Robin Hood, J. Walker McSpadden [book recommendations for teens .TXT] 📗
- Author: J. Walker McSpadden
Book online «Robin Hood, J. Walker McSpadden [book recommendations for teens .TXT] 📗». Author J. Walker McSpadden
This was a poser for Robin, since he liked not the idea of staying over night at the Sheriff’s house. He had hoped to appoint a meeting-place for the other, but now saw that this might excite doubt. He looked around at the company. By this time, you must know, the feast had progressed far, and the butchers were deep in their cups. The Sheriff and Robin had talked in a low voice, and my lord Bishop was almost asleep.
“Agreed,” said Robin presently, and the words were no sooner out of his mouth than the door opened and a serving-man entered bearing tray of mulled wine. At sight of the fellow’s face, Robin gave an involuntary start of surprise which was instantly checked. The other also saw him, stood still a moment, and as if forgetting something turned about and left the hall.
It was Little John.
A dozen questions flashed across Robin’s mind, and he could find answer for none of them. What was Little John doing in the Sheriff’s house? Why had he not told the band? Was he true to them? Would he betray him?
But these questions of distrust were dismissed from Robin’s open mind as soon as they had entered. He knew that Little John was faithful and true.
He recovered his spirits and began again upon a vein of foolish banter, for the amusement of the Sheriff and his guests, all being now merry with wine.
“A song!” one of them shouted, and the cry was taken up round the table. Robin mounted his chair and trolled forth:
“A lass and a butcher of Nottingham Agreed ‘twixt them for to wed. Says he, ‘I’ll give ye the meat, fair dame, And ye will give me the bread.”Then they joined in the chorus amid a pounding of cups upon the board:
“With a hey and a ho And a hey nonny no, A butcher of Nottingham!”While the song was at its height, Little John reappeared, with other servants, and refilled the cups. He came up to Robin and, as if asking him if he would have more wine, said softly, “Meet me in the pantry to-night.”
Robin nodded, and sang loudly. The day was already far spent, and presently the company broke up with many hiccupy bows of the Sheriff and little notice of the drowsy Bishop.
When the company was dispersed, the Sheriff bade a servant show Robin to his room, and promised to see him at breakfast the next day.
Robin kept his word and met Little John that night, and the sheriff next day; but Little John has been doing so much in the meantime that he must be allowed a chapter to himself.
So let us turn to another story that was sung of, in the ballads of olden time, and find out how Little John entered the Sheriff’s service.
CHAPTER IV HOW LITTLE JOHN ENTERED THE SHERIFF’S SERVICE List and hearken, gentlemen, All ye that now be here, Of Little John, that was Knight’s-man, Good mirth ye now shall hear.
It had come around another Fair day at Nottingham town, and folk crowded there by all the gates. Goods of many kinds were displayed in gaily colored booths, and at every cross-street a free show was in progress. Here and there, stages had been erected for the play at quarter-staff, a highly popular sport.
There was a fellow, one Eric of Lincoln, who was thought to be the finest man with the staff for miles around. His feats were sung about in ballads through all the shire. A great boaster was he withal, and to-day he strutted about on one of these corner stages, and vaunted of his prowess, and offered to crack any man’s crown for a shilling. Several had tried their skill with Eric, but he had soon sent them spinning in no gentle manner, amid the jeers and laughter of the onlookers.
A beggar-man sat over against Eric’s stage and grinned every time a pate was cracked. He was an uncouth fellow, ragged and dirty and unshaven. Eric caught sight of his leering face at one of his boasts—for there was a lull in the game, because no man else wanted to come within reach of Eric’s blows. Eric, I say, noticed the beggar-man grinning at him rather impudently, and turned toward him sharply.
“How now, you dirty villain!” quoth he, “mend your manners to your betters, or, by our Lady, I’ll dust your rags for you.”
The beggar-man still grinned. “I am always ready to mend my manners to my betters,” said he, “but I am afraid you cannot teach me any better than you can dust my jacket.”
“Come up! Come up!” roared the other, flourishing his staff.
“That will I,” said the beggar, getting up slowly and with difficulty. “It will pleasure me hugely to take a braggart down a notch, an some good man will lend me a stout quarter-staff.”
At this a score of idlers reached him their staves—being ready enough to see another man have his head cracked, even if they wished to save their own—and he took the stoutest and heaviest of all. He made a sorry enough figure as he climbed awkwardly upon the stage, but when he had gained it, he towered full half a head above the other, for all his awkwardness. Nathless, he held his stick so clumsily that the crowd laughed in great glee.
Now each man took his place and looked the other up and down, watching warily for an opening. Only a moment stood they thus, for Eric, intent on teaching this rash beggar a lesson and sweeping him speedily off the stage, launched forth boldly and gave the other a sounding crack on the shoulder. The beggar danced about, and made as though he would drop his staff from very pain, while the crowd roared and Eric raised himself for another crushing blow. But just then the awkward beggar came to life. Straightening himself like a flash, he dealt Eric a back-handed blow, the like of which he had never before seen. Down went the boaster to the floor with a sounding thump, and the fickle people yelled and laughed themselves purple; for it was a new sight to see Eric of Lincoln eating dust.
But he was up again almost as soon as he had fallen, and right quickly retreated to his own ringside to gather his wits and watch for an opening. He saw instantly that he had no easy antagonist, and he came in cautiously this time.
And now those who stood around saw the merriest game of quarter-staff that was ever played inside the walls of Nottingham town. Both men were on their guard and fenced with fine skill, being well matched in prowess. Again and again did Eric seek to force an opening under the other’s guard, and just as often were his blows parried. The beggar stood sturdily in his tracks contenting himself with beating off the attack. For a long time
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