The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood - Howard Pyle (free reads TXT) 📗

the wind in distant trees; but no man came forward nor touched the money.

Quoth Robin, “Thou, Will Scarlet, thou, Allan a Dale, and thou, Little John, count it over.”

A long time it took to count all the money, and when it had been duly scored up, Will Scarlet called out that there were fifteen hundred golden pounds in all. But in among the gold they found a paper, and this Will Scarlet read in a loud voice, and all heard that this money was the rental and fines and forfeits from certain estates belonging to the Bishopric of Hereford.

“My Lord Bishop,” said Robin Hood, “I will not strip thee, as Little John said, like a winter hedge, for thou shalt take back one third of thy money. One third of it thou canst well spare to us for thy entertainment and that of thy train, for thou art very rich; one third of it thou canst better spare for charity, for, Bishop, I hear that thou art a hard master to those beneath thee and a close hoarder of gains that thou couldst better and with more credit to thyself give to charity than spend upon thy own likings.”

At this the Bishop looked up, but he could say never a word; yet he was thankful to keep some of his wealth.

Then Robin turned to Sir Richard of the Lea, and quoth he, “Now, Sir Richard, the church seemed like to despoil thee, therefore some of the overplus of church gains may well be used in aiding thee. Thou shalt take that five hundred pounds laid aside for people more in need than the Bishop is, and shalt pay thy debts to Emmet therewith.”

Sir Richard looked at Robin until something arose in his eyes that made all the lights and the faces blur together. At last he said, “I thank thee, friend, from my heart, for what thou doest for me; yet, think not ill if I cannot take thy gift freely. But this I will do: I will take the money and pay my debts, and in a year and a day hence will return it safe either to thee or to the Lord Bishop of Hereford. For this I pledge my most solemn knightly word. I feel free to borrow, for I know no man that should be more bound to aid me than one so high in that church that hath driven such a hard bargain.” “Truly, Sir Knight,” quoth Robin, “I do not understand those fine scruples that weigh with those of thy kind; but, nevertheless, it shall all be as thou dost wish. But thou hadst best bring the money to me at the end of the year, for mayhap I may make better use of it than the Bishop.” Thereupon, turning to those near him, he gave his orders, and five hundred pounds were counted out and tied up in a leathern bag for Sir Richard. The rest of the treasure was divided, and part taken to the treasurehouse of the band, and part put by with the other things for the Bishop.

Then Sir Richard arose. “I cannot stay later, good friends,” said he, “for my lady will wax anxious if I come not home; so I crave leave to depart.”

Then Robin Hood and all his merry men arose, and Robin said, “We cannot let thee go hence unattended, Sir Richard.”

Then up spake Little John, “Good master, let me choose a score of stout fellows from the band, and let us arm ourselves in a seemly manner and so serve as retainers to Sir Richard till he can get others in our stead.”

“Thou hast spoken well, Little John, and it shall be done,” said Robin.

Then up spake Will Scarlet, “Let us give him a golden chain to hang about his neck, such as befits one of his blood, and also golden spurs to wear at his heels.”

Then Robin Hood said, “Thou hast spoken well, Will Scarlet, and it shall be done.”

Then up spake Will Stutely, “Let us give him yon bale of rich velvet and yon roll of cloth of gold to take home to his noble lady wife as a present from Robin Hood and his merry men all.”

At this all clapped their hands for joy, and Robin said: “Thou hast well spoken, Will Stutely, and it shall be done.”

Then Sir Richard of the Lea looked all around and strove to speak, but could scarcely do so for the feelings that choked him; at last he said in a husky, trembling voice, “Ye shall all see, good friends, that Sir Richard o’ the Lea will ever remember your kindness this day. And if ye be at any time in dire need or trouble, come to me and my lady, and the walls of Castle Lea shall be battered down ere harm shall befall you. I—” He could say nothing further, but turned hastily away.

But now Little John and nineteen stout fellows whom he had chosen for his band, came forth all ready for the journey. Each man wore upon his breast a coat of linked mail, and on his head a cap of steel, and at his side a good stout sword. A gallant show they made as they stood all in a row. Then Robin came and threw a chain of gold about Sir Richard’s neck, and Will Scarlet knelt and buckled the golden spurs upon his heel; and now Little John led forward Sir Richard’s horse, and the Knight mounted. He looked down at Robin for a little time, then of a sudden stooped and kissed his cheek. All the forest glades rang with the shout that went up as the Knight and the yeomen marched off through the woodland with glare of torches and gleam of steel, and so were gone.

Then up spake the Bishop of Hereford in a mournful voice, “I, too, must be jogging, good fellow, for the night waxes late.”

But Robin laid his hand upon the Bishop’s arm and stayed him. “Be not so hasty, Lord Bishop,” said he. “Three days hence Sir Richard must pay his debts to Emmet; until that time thou must be content to abide with me lest thou breed trouble for the Knight. I promise thee that thou shalt have great sport, for I know that thou art fond of hunting the dun deer. Lay by thy mantle of melancholy, and strive to lead a joyous yeoman life for three stout days. I promise thee thou shalt be sorry to go when the time has come.”

So the Bishop and his train abided with Robin for three days, and much sport his lordship had in that time, so that, as Robin had said, when the time had come for him to go he was sorry to leave the greenwood. At the end of three days Robin set him free, and sent him forth from the forest with a guard of yeomen to keep freebooters from taking what was left of the packs and bundles.

But, as the Bishop rode away, he vowed within himself that he would sometime make Robin rue the day that he stopped him in Sherwood.

But now we shall follow Sir Richard; so listen, and you shall hear what befell him, and how he paid his debts at Emmet Priory, and likewise in due season to Robin Hood.

 

How Sir Richard of the Lea Paid His Debts

THE LONG HIGHWAY stretched straight on, gray and dusty in the sun. On either side were dikes full of water bordered by osiers, and far away in the distance stood the towers of Emmet Priory with tall poplar trees around.

Along the causeway rode a knight with a score of stout men-at-arms behind him. The Knight was clad in a plain, long robe of gray serge, gathered in at the waist with a broad leathern belt, from which hung a long dagger and a stout sword. But though he was so plainly dressed himself, the horse he rode was a noble barb, and its trappings were rich with silk and silver bells.

So thus the band journeyed along the causeway between the dikes, till at last they reached the great gate of Emmet Priory. There the Knight called to one of his men and bade him knock at the porter’s lodge with the heft of his sword.

The porter was drowsing on his bench within the lodge, but at the knock he roused himself and, opening the wicket, came hobbling forth and greeted the Knight, while a tame starling that hung in a wicker cage within piped out, “In coelo quies! In coelo quies!” such being the words that the poor old lame porter had taught him to speak.

“Where is thy prior?” asked the Knight of the old porter.

“He is at meat, good knight, and he looketh for thy coming,” quoth the porter, “for, if I mistake not, thou art Sir Richard of the Lea.”

“I am Sir Richard of the Lea; then I will go seek him forthwith,” said the Knight.

“But shall I not send thy horse to stable?” said the porter. “By Our Lady, it is the noblest nag, and the best harnessed, that e’er I saw in all my life before.” And he stroked the horse’s flank with his palm.

“Nay,” quoth Sir Richard, “the stables of this place are not for me, so make way, I prythee.” So saying, he pushed forward, and, the gates being opened, he entered the stony courtyard of the Priory, his men behind him. In they came with rattle of steel and clashing of swords, and ring of horses’ feet on cobblestones, whereat a flock of pigeons that strutted in the sun flew with flapping wings to the high eaves of the round towers.

 

While the Knight was riding along the causeway to Emmet, a merry feast was toward in the refectory there. The afternoon sun streamed in through the great arched windows and lay in broad squares of light upon the stone floor and across the board covered with a snowy linen cloth, whereon was spread a princely feast. At the head of the table sat Prior Vincent of Emmet all clad in soft robes of fine cloth and silk; on his head was a black velvet cap picked out with gold, and around his neck hung a heavy chain of gold, with a great locket pendant therefrom. Beside him, on the arm of his great chair, roosted his favorite falcon, for the Prior was fond of the gentle craft of hawking. On his right hand sat the Sheriff of Nottingham in rich robes of purple all trimmed about with fur, and on his left a famous doctor of law in dark and sober garb. Below these sat the high cellarer of Emmet, and others chief among the brethren.

Jest and laughter passed around, and all was as merry as merry could be. The wizened face of the man of law was twisted into a wrinkled smile, for in his pouch were fourscore golden angels that the Prior had paid him in fee for the case betwixt him and Sir Richard of the Lea. The learned doctor had been paid beforehand, for he had not overmuch trust in the holy Vincent of Emmet.

Quoth the Sheriff of Nottingham, “But art thou sure, Sir Prior, that thou hast the lands so safe?”

“Ay, marry,” said Prior Vincent, smacking his lips after a deep draught of wine, “I have kept a close watch upon him, albeit he was unawares of the same, and I know right well that he hath no money to pay me withal.”

“Ay, true,” said the man of law in a dry, husky voice, “his land is surely forfeit if he cometh not to pay; but, Sir Prior, thou must get a release beneath his sign