The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood, Howard Pyle [e book reader pc txt] 📗

“Drink, man, drink,” cried Robin, only wetting his own lips meanwhile. “Ho, landlord! Bring my friend another pot of the same. And now for a song, my jolly blade.”

“Ay, that will I give thee a song, my lovely fellow,” quoth the Tinker, “for I never tasted such ale in all my days before. By Our Lady, it doth make my head hum even now! Hey, Dame Hostess, come listen, an thou wouldst hear a song, and thou too, thou bonny lass, for never sing I so well as when bright eyes do look upon me the while.”

Then he sang an ancient ballad of the time of good King Arthur, called “The Marriage of Sir Gawaine,” which you may some time read yourself, in stout English of early times; and as he sang, all listened to that noble tale of noble knight and his sacrifice to his king. But long before the Tinker came to the last verse his tongue began to trip and his head to spin, because of the strong waters mixed with the ale. First his tongue tripped, then it grew thick of sound; then his head wagged from side to side, until at last he fell asleep as though he never would waken again.

Then Robin Hood laughed aloud and quickly took the warrant from out the Tinker’s pouch with his deft fingers. “Sly art thou, Tinker,” quoth he, “but not yet, I bow, art thou as sly as that same sly thief Robin Hood.”

Then he called the host to him and said, “Here, good man, are ten broad shillings for the entertainment thou hast given us this day. See that thou takest good care of thy fair guest there, and when he wakes thou mayst again charge him ten shillings also, and if he hath it not, thou mayst take his bag and hammer, and even his coat, in payment. Thus do I punish those that come into the greenwood to deal dole to me. As for thine own self, never knew I landlord yet that would not charge twice an he could.”

At this the host smiled slyly, as though saying to himself the rustic saw, “Teach a magpie to suck eggs.”

The Tinker slept until the afternoon drew to a close and the shadows grew long beside the woodland edge, then he awoke. First he looked up, then he looked down, then he

looked east, then he looked west, for he was gathering his wits together, like barley straws blown apart by the wind. First he thought of his merry companion, but he was gone. Then he thought of his stout crabstaff, and that he had within his hand. Then of his warrant, and of the fourscore angels he was to gain for serving it upon Robin Hood. He thrust his hand into his pouch, but not a scrap nor a farthing was there. Then he sprang to his feet in a rage.

“Ho, landlord!” cried he, “whither hath that knave gone that was with me but now?”

“What knave meaneth Your Worship?” quoth the landlord, calling the Tinker Worship to soothe him, as a man would pour oil upon angry water. “I saw no knave with Your Worship, for I swear no man would dare call that man knave so nigh to Sherwood Forest. A right stout yeoman I saw with Your Worship, but I thought that Your Worship knew him, for few there be about here that pass him by and know him not.”

“Now, how should I, that ne’er have squealed in your sty, know all the swine therein? Who was he, then, an thou knowest him so well?”

“Why, yon same is a right stout fellow whom men hereabouts do call Robin Hood, which same—”

“Now, by’r Lady!” cried the Tinker hastily, and in a deep voice like an angry bull, “thou didst see me come into thine inn, I, a staunch, honest craftsman, and never told me who my company was, well knowing thine own self who he was. Now, I have a right round piece of a mind to crack thy knave’s pate for thee!” Then he took up his cudgel and looked at the landlord as though he would smite him where he stood.

“Nay,” cried the host, throwing up his elbow, for he feared the blow, “how knew I that thou knewest him not?”

“Well and truly thankful mayst thou be,” quoth the Tinker, “that I be a patient man and so do spare thy bald crown, else wouldst thou ne’er cheat customer again. But as for this same knave Robin Hood, I go straightway to seek him, and if I do not score his knave’s pate, cut my staff into fagots and call me woman.” So saying, he gathered himself together to depart.

“Nay,” quoth the landlord, standing in front of him and holding out his arms like a gooseherd driving his flock, for money made him bold, “thou goest not till thou hast paid me my score.”

“But did not he pay thee?”

“Not so much as one farthing; and ten good shillings’ worth of ale have ye drunk this day. Nay, I say, thou goest not away without paying me, else shall our good Sheriff know of it.”

“But nought have I to pay thee with, good fellow,” quoth the Tinker.

” `Good fellow’ not me,” said the landlord. “Good fellow am I not when it cometh to lose ten shillings! Pay me that thou owest me in broad money, or else leave thy coat and bag and hammer; yet, I wot they are not worth ten shillings, and I shall lose thereby. Nay, an thou stirrest, I have a great dog within and I will loose him upon thee. Maken, open thou the door and let forth Brian if this fellow stirs one step.”

“Nay,” quoth the Tinker—for, by roaming the country, he had learned what dogs were—“take thou what thou wilt have, and let me depart in peace, and may a murrain go with thee. But oh, landlord! An I catch yon scurvy varlet, I swear he shall pay full with usury for that he hath had!”

So saying, he strode away toward the forest, talking to himself, while the landlord and his worthy dame and Maken stood looking after him, and laughed when he had fairly gone.

“Robin and I stripped yon ass of his pack main neatly,” quoth the landlord.

Now it happened about this time that Robin Hood was going through the forest to Fosse Way, to see what was to be seen there, for the moon was full and the night gave promise of being bright. In his hand he carried his stout oaken staff, and at his side hung his bugle horn. As thus he walked up a forest path, whistling, down another path came the Tinker, muttering to himself and shaking his head like an angry bull; and so, at a sudden bend, they met sharply face to face. Each stood still for a time, and then Robin spoke:

“Halloa, my sweet bird,” said he, laughing merrily, “how likest thou thine ale? Wilt not sing to me another song?”

The Tinker said nothing at first but stood looking at Robin with a grim face. “Now,” quoth he at last, “I am right glad I have met thee, and if I do not rattle thy bones within thy hide this day, I give thee leave to put thy foot upon my neck.”

“With all my heart,” cried merry Robin. “Rattle my bones, an thou canst.” So saying, he gripped his staff and threw himself upon his guard. Then the Tinker spat upon his hands and, grasping his staff, came straight at the other. He struck two or three blows, but soon found that he had met his match, for Robin warded and parried all of them, and, before the Tinker thought, he gave him a rap upon the ribs in return. At this Robin laughed aloud, and the Tinker grew more angry than ever, and smote again with all his might and main. Again Robin warded two of the strokes, but at the third, his staff broke beneath the mighty blows of the Tinker. “Now, ill betide thee, traitor staff,” cried Robin, as it fell from his hands; “a foul stick art thou to serve me thus in mine hour of need.”

“Now yield thee,” quoth the Tinker, “for thou art my captive; and if thou do not, I will beat thy pate to a pudding.”

To this Robin Hood made no answer, but, clapping his horn to his lips, he blew three blasts, loud and clear.

“Ay,” quoth the Tinker, “blow thou mayest, but go thou must with me to Nottingham Town, for the Sheriff would fain see thee there. Now wilt thou yield thee, or shall I have to break thy pretty head?”

“An I must drink sour ale, I must,” quoth Robin, “but never have I yielded me to man before, and that without wound or mark upon my body. Nor, when I bethink me, will I yield now. Ho, my merry men! Come quickly!”

Then from out the forest leaped Little John and six stout yeomen clad in Lincoln green.

“How now, good master,” cried Little John, “what need hast thou that thou dost wind thy horn so loudly?”

“There stands a tinker,” quoth Robin, “that would fain take me to Nottingham, there to hang upon the gallows tree.”

“Then shall he himself hang forthwith,” cried Little John, and he and the others made at the Tinker, to seize him.

“Nay, touch him not,” said Robin, “for a right stout man is he. A metal man he is by trade, and a mettled man by nature; moreover, he doth sing a lovely ballad. Say, good fellow, wilt thou join my merry men all? Three suits of Lincoln green shalt thou have a year, besides forty marks in fee; thou shalt share all with us and lead a right merry life in the greenwood; for cares have we not, and misfortune cometh not upon us within the sweet shades of Sherwood, where we shoot the dun deer and feed upon venison and sweet oaten cakes, and curds and honey. Wilt thou come with me?”

“Ay, marry, will I join with you all,” quoth the Tinker, “for I love a merry life, and I love thee, good master, though thou didst thwack my ribs and cheat me into the bargain. Fain am I to own thou art both a stouter and a slyer man than I; so I will obey thee and be thine own true servant.”

So all turned their steps to the forest depths, where the Tinker was to live henceforth. For many a day he sang ballads to the band, until the famous Allan a Dale joined them, before whose sweet voice all others seemed as harsh as a raven’s; but of him we will learn hereafter.

The Shooting Match at Nottingham Town

THEN THE SHERIFF was very wroth because of this failure to take jolly Robin, for it came to his ears, as ill news always does, that the people laughed at him and made a jest of his thinking to serve a warrant upon such a one as the bold outlaw. And a man hates nothing so much as being made a jest of; so he said: “Our gracious lord and sovereign King himself shall know of this, and how his laws are perverted and despised by this band of rebel outlaws. As for yon traitor Tinker, him will I hang, if I catch him, upon the very highest gallows tree in all Nottinghamshire.”

Then he bade all his servants and retainers to make ready to go to London Town, to see and speak with the King.

At this there was bustling at the Sheriff’s castle, and men ran hither and thither upon this business and upon