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

the thickness of a goose quill, tied near to its head. The Sheriff opened the scroll and glanced at it, while the veins upon his forehead swelled and his cheeks grew ruddy with rage as he read, for this was what he saw:

“Now Heaven bless Thy Grace this day Say all in sweet Sherwood For thou didst give the prize away To merry Robin Hood.”

 

“Whence came this?” cried the Sheriff in a mighty voice.

“Even through the window, Your Worship,” quoth the man who had handed the shaft to him.

 

Will Stutely Rescued by His Companions

NOW WHEN THE SHERIFF found that neither law nor guile could overcome Robin Hood, he was much perplexed, and said to himself, “Fool that I am! Had I not told our King of Robin Hood, I would not have gotten myself into such a coil; but now I must either take him captive or have wrath visited upon my head from his most gracious Majesty. I have tried law, and I have tried guile, and I have failed in both; so I will try what may be done with might.”

Thus communing within himself, he called his constables together and told them what was in his mind. “Now take ye each four men, all armed in proof,” said he, “and get ye gone to the forest, at different points, and lie in wait for this same Robin Hood. But if any constable finds too many men against him, let him sound a horn, and then let each band within hearing come with all speed and join the party that calls them. Thus, I think, shall we take this green-clad knave. Furthermore, to him that first meeteth with Robin Hood shall one hundred pounds of silver money be given, if he be brought to me dead or alive; and to him that meeteth with any of his band shall twoscore pounds be given, if such be brought to me dead or alive. So, be ye bold and be ye crafty.”

So thus they went in threescore companies of five to Sherwood Forest, to take Robin Hood, each constable wishing that he might be the one to find the bold outlaw, or at least one of his band. For seven days and nights they hunted through the forest glades, but never saw so much as a single man in Lincoln green; for tidings of all this had been brought to Robin Hood by trusty Eadom o’ the Blue Boar.

When he first heard the news, Robin said, “If the Sheriff dare send force to meet force, woe will it be for him and many a better man besides, for blood will flow and there will be great trouble for all. But fain would I shun blood and battle, and fain would I not deal sorrow to womenfolk and wives because good stout yeomen lose their lives. Once I slew a man, and never do I wish to slay a man again, for it is bitter for the soul to think thereon. So now we will abide silently in Sherwood Forest, so that it may be well for all, but should we be forced to defend ourselves, or any of our band, then let each man draw bow and brand with might and main.”

At this speech many of the band shook their heads, and said to themselves, “Now the Sheriff will think that we are cowards, and folk will scoff throughout the countryside, saying that we fear to meet these men.” But they said nothing aloud, swallowing their words and doing as Robin bade them.

Thus they hid in the depths of Sherwood Forest for seven days and seven nights and never showed their faces abroad in all that time; but early in the morning of the eighth day Robin Hood called the band together and said, “Now who will go and find what the Sheriff’s men are at by this time? For I know right well they will not bide forever within Sherwood shades.”

At this a great shout arose, and each man waved his bow aloft and cried that he might be the one to go. Then Robin Hood’s heart was proud when he looked around on his stout, brave fellows, and he said, “Brave and true are ye all, my merry men, and a right stout band of good fellows are ye, but ye cannot all go, so I will choose one from among you, and it shall be good Will Stutely, for he is as sly as e’er an old dog fox in Sherwood Forest.”

Then Will Stutely leaped high aloft and laughed loudly, clapping his hands for pure joy that he should have been chosen from among them all. “Now thanks, good master,” quoth he, “and if I bring not news of those knaves to thee, call me no more thy sly Will Stutely.”

Then he clad himself in a friar’s gown, and underneath the robe he hung a good broadsword in such a place that he could easily lay hands upon it. Thus clad, he set forth upon his quest, until he came to the verge of the forest, and so to the highway. He saw two bands of the Sheriff’s men, yet he turned neither to the right nor the left, but only drew his cowl the closer over his face, folding his hands as if in meditation. So at last he came to the Sign of the Blue Boar. “For,” quoth he to himself, “our good friend Eadom will tell me all the news.”

At the Sign of the Blue Boar he found a band of the Sheriffs men drinking right lustily; so, without speaking to anyone, he sat down upon a distant bench, his staff in his hand, and his head bowed forward as though he were meditating. Thus he sat waiting until he might see the landlord apart, and Eadom did not know him, but thought him to be some poor tired friar, so he let him sit without saying a word to him or molesting him, though he liked not the cloth. “For,” said he to himself, “it is a hard heart that kicks the lame dog from off the sill.” As Stutely sat thus, there came a great house cat and rubbed against his knee, raising his robe a palm’s-breadth high. Stutely pushed his robe quickly down again, but the constable who commanded the Sheriffs men saw what had passed, and saw also fair Lincoln green beneath the friar’s robe. He said nothing at the time, but communed within himself in this wise: “Yon is no friar of orders gray, and also, I wot, no honest yeoman goeth about in priest’s garb, nor doth a thief go so for nought. Now I think in good sooth that is one of Robin Hood’s own men.” So, presently, he said aloud, “O holy father, wilt thou not take a good pot of March beer to slake thy thirsty soul withal?”

But Stutely shook his head silently, for he said to himself, “Maybe there be those here who know my voice.”

Then the constable said again, “Whither goest thou, holy friar, upon this hot summer’s day?”

“I go a pilgrim to Canterbury Town,” answered Will Stutely, speaking gruffly, so that none might know his voice.

Then the constable said, for the third time, “Now tell me, holy father, do pilgrims to Canterbury wear good Lincoln green beneath their robes? Ha! By my faith, I take thee to be some lusty thief, and perhaps one of Robin Hood’s own band! Now, by Our Lady’s grace, if thou movest hand or foot, I will run thee through the body with my sword!”

Then he flashed forth his bright sword and leaped upon Will Stutely, thinking he would take him unaware; but Stutely had his own sword tightly held in his hand, beneath his robe, so he drew it forth before the constable came upon him. Then the stout constable struck a mighty blow; but he struck no more in all that fight, for Stutely, parrying the blow right deftly, smote the constable back again with all his might. Then he would have escaped, but could not, for the other, all dizzy with the wound and with the flowing blood, seized him by the knees with his arms even as he reeled and fell. Then the others rushed upon him, and Stutely struck again at another of the Sheriff’s men, but the steel cap glanced the blow, and though the blade bit deep, it did not kill. Meanwhile, the constable, fainting as he was, drew Stutely downward, and the others, seeing the yeoman hampered so, rushed upon him again, and one smote him a blow upon the crown so that the blood ran down his face and blinded him. Then, staggering, he fell, and all sprang upon him, though he struggled so manfully that they could hardly hold him fast. Then they bound him with stout hempen cords so that he could not move either hand or foot, and thus they overcame him.

Robin Hood stood under the greenwood tree, thinking of Will Stutely and how he might be faring, when suddenly he saw two of his stout yeomen come running down the forest path, and betwixt them ran buxom Maken of the Blue Boar. Then Robin’s heart fell, for he knew they were the bearers of ill tidings.

“Will Stutely hath been taken,” cried they, when they had come to where he stood.

“And is it thou that hast brought such doleful news?” said Robin to the lass.

“Ay, marry, for I saw it all,” cried she, panting as the hare pants when it has escaped the hounds, “and I fear he is wounded sore, for one smote him main shrewdly i’ the crown. They have bound him and taken him to Nottingham Town, and ere I left the Blue Boar I heard that he should be hanged tomorrow day.”

“He shall not be hanged tomorrow day,” cried Robin; “or, if he be, full many a one shall gnaw the sod, and many shall have cause to cry Alack-a-day!”

Then he clapped his horn to his lips and blew three blasts right loudly, and presently his good yeomen came running through the greenwood until sevenscore bold blades were gathered around him.

“Now hark you all!” cried Robin. “Our dear companion Will Stutely hath been taken by that vile Sheriff’s men, therefore doth it behoove us to take bow and brand in hand to bring him off again; for I wot that we ought to risk life and limb for him, as he hath risked life and limb for us. Is it not so, my merry men all?” Then all cried, “Ay!” with a great voice.

So the next day they all wended their way from Sherwood Forest, but by different paths, for it behooved them to be very crafty; so the band separated into parties of twos and threes, which were all to meet again in a tangled dell that lay near to Nottingham Town. Then, when they had all gathered together at the place of meeting, Robin spoke to them thus:

“Now we will lie here in ambush until we can get news, for it doth behoove us to be cunning and wary if we would bring our friend Will Stutely off from the Sheriff’s clutches.”

So they lay hidden a long time, until the sun stood high in the sky. The day was warm and the dusty road was bare of travelers, except an aged palmer who walked slowly along the highroad that led close beside the gray castle wall of Nottingham Town. When Robin saw that no other wayfarer was within sight, he called young David of Doncaster, who was a shrewd man for his years, and said to him, “Now get thee forth, young David, and speak to yonder palmer that walks beside the town wall, for he hath come