Pyle - The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood

You who so plod amid serious things that you feel it shame to giveyourself up even for a few short moments to mirth and joyousness in theland of Fancy; you who think that life hath nought to do with innocentlaughter that can harm no one; these pages are not for you. Clap to theleaves and go no farther than this, for I tell you plainly that if yougo farther you will be scandalized by seeing good, sober folks of realhistory so frisk and caper in gay colors and motley that you would notknow them but for the names tagged to them. Here is a stout, lustyfellow with a quick temper, yet none so ill for all that, who goes bythe name of Henry II. Here is a fair, gentle lady before whom all theothers bow and call her Queen Eleanor. Here is a fat rogue of a fellow,dressed up in rich robes of a clerical kind, that all the good folk callmy Lord Bishop of Hereford. Here is a certain fellow with a sour temperand a grim lookthe worshipful, the Sheriff of Nottingham. And here,above all, is a great, tall, merry fellow that roams the greenwood andjoins in homely sports, and sits beside the Sheriff at merry feast,which same beareth the name of the proudest of the PlantagenetsRichardof the Lion's Heart. Beside these are a whole host of knights, priests,nobles, burghers, yeomen, pages, ladies, lasses, landlords, beggars,peddlers, and what not, all living the merriest of merry lives, and allbound by nothing but a few odd strands of certain old ballads (snippedand clipped and tied together again in a score of knots) which drawthese jocund fellows here and there, singing as they go.

Here you will find a hundred dull, sober, jogging places, all trickedout with flowers and what not, till no one would know them in theirfanciful dress. And here is a country bearing a well-known name, whereinno chill mists press upon our spirits, and no rain falls but what rollsoff our backs like April showers off the backs of sleek drakes; whereflowers bloom forever and birds are always singing; where every fellowhath a merry catch as he travels the roads, and ale and beer and wine(such as muddle no wits) flow like water in a brook.

This country is not Fairyland. What is it? 'Tis the land of Fancy, andis of that pleasant kind that, when you tire of itwhisk!you clap theleaves of this book together and 'tis gone, and you are ready foreveryday life, with no harm done.

And now I lift the curtain that hangs between here and No-man's-land.Will you come with me, sweet Reader? I thank you. Give me your hand.

Giving an account of Robin Hood and his adventure with the King'sForesters. Also telling how his band gathered around him, and of themerry adventure that gained him his good right hand man, the famousLittle John.

IN MERRY ENGLAND in the time of old, when good King Henry the Secondruled the land, there lived within the green glades of Sherwood Forest,near Nottingham Town, a famous outlaw whose name was Robin Hood. Noarcher ever lived that could speed a gray goose shaft with such skilland cunning as his, nor were there ever such yeomen as the sevenscoremerry men that roamed with him through the greenwood shades. Rightmerrily they dwelled within the depths of Sherwood Forest, sufferingneither care nor want, but passing the time in merry games of archery orbouts of cudgel play, living upon the King's venison, washed down withdraughts of ale of October brewing.

Not only Robin himself but all the band were outlaws and dwelled apartfrom other men, yet they were beloved by the country people round about,for no one ever came to jolly Robin for help in time of need and wentaway again with an empty fist.

And now I will tell how it came about that Robin Hood fell afoul of thelaw.

When Robin was a youth of eighteen, stout of sinew and bold of heart,the Sheriff of Nottingham proclaimed a shooting match and offered aprize of a butt of ale to whosoever should shoot the best shaft inNottinghamshire. "Now," quoth Robin, "will I go too, for fain would Idraw a string for the bright eyes of my lass and a butt of good Octoberbrewing." So up he got and took his good stout yew bow and a score ormore of broad clothyard arrows, and started off from Locksley Townthrough Sherwood Forest to Nottingham.

It was at the dawn of day in the merry Maytime, when hedgerows are greenand flowers bedeck the meadows; daisies pied and yellow cuckoo buds andfair primroses all along the briery hedges; when apple buds blossom andsweet birds sing, the lark at dawn of day, the throstle cock and cuckoo;when lads and lasses look upon each other with sweet thoughts; when busyhousewives spread their linen to bleach upon the bright green grass.Sweet was the greenwood as he walked along its paths, and bright thegreen and rustling leaves, amid which the little birds sang with mightand main: and blithely Robin whistled as he trudged along, thinking ofMaid Marian and her bright eyes, for at such times a youth's thoughtsare wont to turn pleasantly upon the lass that he loves the best.

As thus he walked along with a brisk step and a merry whistle, he camesuddenly upon some foresters seated beneath a great oak tree. Fifteenthere were in all, making themselves merry with feasting and drinking asthey sat around a huge pasty, to which each man helped himself,thrusting his hands into the pie, and washing down that which they atewith great horns of ale which they drew all foaming from a barrel thatstood nigh. Each man was clad in Lincoln green, and a fine show theymade, seated upon the sward beneath that fair, spreading tree. Then oneof them, with his mouth full, called out to Robin, "Hulloa, where goestthou, little lad, with thy one-penny bow and thy farthing shafts?"

Then Robin grew angry, for no stripling likes to be taunted with hisgreen years.

"Now," quoth he, "my bow and eke mine arrows are as good as shine; andmoreover, I go to the shooting match at Nottingham Town, which same hasbeen proclaimed by our good Sheriff of Nottinghamshire; there I willshoot with other stout yeomen, for a prize has been offered of a finebutt of ale."

Then one who held a horn of ale in his hand said, "Ho! listen to thelad! Why, boy, thy mother's milk is yet scarce dry upon thy lips, andyet thou pratest of standing up with good stout men at Nottingham butts,thou who art scarce able to draw one string of a two-stone bow."

"I'll hold the best of you twenty marks," quoth bold Robin, "that I hitthe clout at threescore rods, by the good help of Our Lady fair."

At this all laughed aloud, and one said, "Well boasted, thou fairinfant, well boasted! And well thou knowest that no target is nigh tomake good thy wager."

And another cried, "He will be taking ale with his milk next."

At this Robin grew right mad. "Hark ye," said he, "yonder, at theglade's end, I see a herd of deer, even more than threescore rodsdistant. I'll hold you twenty marks that, by leave of Our Lady, I causethe best hart among them to die."