Robin Hood Shoots Before Queen Eleanor
THE HIGHROAD stretched white and dusty in the hot summer
afternoon sun, and the trees stood motionless along the roadside.
All across the meadow lands the hot air danced and quivered,
and in the limpid waters of the lowland brook, spanned by a little
stone bridge, the fish hung motionless above the yellow gravel,
and the dragonfly sat quite still, perched upon the sharp tip
of a spike of the rushes, with its wings glistening in the sun.
Along the road a youth came riding upon a fair milk-white barb,
and the folk that he passed stopped and turned and looked after him,
for never had so lovely a lad or one so gaily clad been seen in
Nottingham before. He could not have been more than sixteen years
of age, and was as fair as any maiden. His long yellow hair flowed
behind him as he rode along, all clad in silk and velvet, with jewels
flashing and dagger jingling against the pommel of the saddle.
Thus came the Queen's Page, young Richard Partington, from famous
London Town down into Nottinghamshire, upon Her Majesty's bidding,
to seek Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest.
The road was hot and dusty and his journey had been long,
for that day he had come all the way from Leicester Town, a good
twenty miles and more; wherefore young Partington was right glad
when he saw before him a sweet little inn, all shady and cool beneath
the trees, in front of the door of which a sign hung pendant,
bearing the picture of a blue boar. Here he drew rein and called
loudly for a pottle of Rhenish wine to be brought him, for stout
country ale was too coarse a drink for this young gentleman.
Five lusty fellows sat upon the bench beneath the pleasant shade
of the wide-spreading oak in front of the inn door, drinking ale
and beer, and all stared amain at this fair and gallant lad.
Two of the stoutest of them were clothed in Lincoln green,
and a great heavy oaken staff leaned against the gnarled oak tree
trunk beside each fellow.
The landlord came and brought a pottle of wine and a long narrow glass
upon a salver, which he held up to the Page as he sat upon his horse.
Young Partington poured forth the bright yellow wine and holding
the glass aloft, cried, "Here is to the health and long happiness
of my royal mistress, the noble Queen Eleanor; and may my journey
and her desirings soon have end, and I find a certain stout yeoman
men call Robin Hood."
At these words all stared, but presently the two stout yeomen
in Lincoln green began whispering together. Then one of the two,
whom Partington thought to be the tallest and stoutest fellow
he had ever beheld, spoke up and said, "What seekest thou of
Robin Hood, Sir Page? And what does our good Queen Eleanor wish of him?
I ask this of thee, not foolishly, but with reason, for I know
somewhat of this stout yeoman."
"An thou knowest aught of him, good fellow," said young Partington,
"thou wilt do great service to him and great pleasure to our royal
Queen by aiding me to find him."
Then up spake the other yeoman, who was a handsome fellow with
sunburned face and nut-brown, curling hair, "Thou hast an honest look,
Sir Page, and our Queen is kind and true to all stout yeomen.
Methinks I and my friend here might safely guide thee to Robin Hood,
for we know where he may be found. Yet I tell thee plainly,
we would not for all merry England have aught of harm befall him."
"Set thy mind at ease; I bring nought of ill with me,"
quoth Richard Partington. "I bring a kind message to him
from our Queen, therefore an ye know where he is to be found,
I pray you to guide me thither."
Then the two yeomen looked at one another again, and the tall man said,
"Surely it were safe to do this thing, Will"; whereat the other
Thereupon both arose, and the tall yeoman said, "We think thou art
Sir Page, and meanest no harm, therefore we will guide thee to Robin Hood
as thou dost wish."
Then Partington paid his score, and the yeomen coming forward,
they all straightway departed upon their way.
Under the greenwood tree, in the cool shade that spread all
around upon the sward, with flickering lights here and there,
Robin Hood and many of his band lay upon the soft green grass,
while Allan a Dale sang and played upon his sweetly sounding harp.
All listened in silence, for young Allan's singing was one of the greatest
joys in all the world to them; but as they so listened there came
of a sudden the sound of a horse's feet, and presently Little John
and Will Stutely came forth from the forest path into the open glade,
young Richard Partington riding between them upon his milk-white horse.
The three came toward where Robin Hood sat, all the band staring with might
and main, for never had they seen so gay a sight as this young Page,
nor one so richly clad in silks and velvets and gold and jewels.
Then Robin arose and stepped forth to meet him, and Partington leaped from
his horse and doffing his cap of crimson velvet, met Robin as he came.
"Now, welcome!" cried Robin. "Now, welcome, fair youth, and
I prythee, what bringeth one of so fair a presence and clad in such
noble garb to our poor forest of Sherwood?"
Then young Partington said, "If I err not, thou art the famous
Robin Hood, and these thy stout band of outlawed yeomen.
To thee I bring greetings from our noble Queen Eleanor. Oft hath
she heard thee spoken of and thy merry doings hereabouts,
and fain would she behold thy face; therefore she bids me
tell thee that if thou wilt presently come to London Town,
she will do all in her power to guard thee against harm,
and will send thee back safe to Sherwood Forest again.
Four days hence, in Finsbury Fields, our good King Henry,
of great renown, holdeth a grand shooting match, and all
the most famous archers of merry England will be thereat.
Our Queen would fain see thee strive with these, knowing that if thou
wilt come thou wilt, with little doubt, carry off the prize.
Therefore she hath sent me with this greeting, and furthermore
sends thee, as a sign of great good will, this golden ring from
off her own fair thumb, which I give herewith into thy hands."
Then Robin Hood bowed his head and taking the ring, kissed it
right loyally, and then slipped it upon his little finger.
Quoth he, "Sooner would I lose my life than this ring; and ere
it departs from me, my hand shall be cold in death or stricken
off at the wrist. Fair Sir Page, I will do our Queen's bidding,
and will presently hie with thee to London; but, ere we go,
I will feast thee here in the woodlands with the very best we have."
"It may not be," said the Page; "we have no time to tarry,
therefore get thyself ready straightway; and if there be any
of thy band that thou wouldst take with thee, our Queen bids
me say that she will make them right welcome likewise."
"Truly, thou art right," quoth Robin, "and we have but short
time to stay; therefore I will get me ready presently.
I will choose three of my men, only, to go with me, and these
three shall be Little John, mine own true right-hand man,
Will Scarlet, my cousin, and Allan a Dale, my minstrel.
Go, lads, and get ye ready straightway, and we will presently
off with all speed that we may. Thou, Will Stutely, shall be
the chief of the band while I am gone."
Then Little John and Will Scarlet and Allan a Dale ran leaping, full of
to make themselves ready, while Robin also prepared himself for the journey.
After a while they all four came forth, and a right fair sight they made,
for Robin was clad in blue from head to foot, and Little John and
Will Scarlet in good Lincoln green, and as for Allan a Dale, he was dressed
in scarlet from the crown of his head to the toes of his pointed shoes.
Each man wore beneath his cap a little head covering of burnished steel
set with rivets of gold, and underneath his jerkin a coat of linked mail,
as fine as carded wool, yet so tough that no arrow could pierce it.
Then, seeing all were ready, young Partington mounted his horse again,
and the yeomen having shaken hands all around, the five departed
upon their way.
That night they took up their inn in Melton Mowbray, in Leicestershire,
and the next night they lodged at Kettering, in Northamptonshire;
and the next at Bedford Town; and the next at St. Albans,
in Hertfordshire. This place they left not long after the middle
of the night, and traveling fast through the tender dawning of
the summer day, when the dews lay shining on the meadows and faint
mists hung in the dales, when the birds sang their sweetest and
the cobwebs beneath the hedges glimmered like fairy cloth of silver,
they came at last to the towers and walls of famous London Town,
while the morn was still young and all golden toward the east.
Queen Eleanor sat in her royal bower, through the open casements of
which poured the sweet yellow sunshine in great floods of golden light.
All about her stood her ladies-in-waiting chatting in low voices,
while she herself sat dreamily where the mild air came softly
drifting into the room laden with the fresh perfumes of the sweet
red roses that bloomed in the great garden beneath the wall.
To her came one who said that her page, Richard Partington,
and four stout yeomen waited her pleasure in the court below.
Then Queen Eleanor arose joyously and bade them be straightway
shown into her presence.
Thus Robin Hood and Little John and Will Scarlet and Allan a Dale came
before the Queen into her own royal bower. Then Robin kneeled before
the Queen with his hands folded upon his breast, saying in simple phrase,
"Here am I, Robin Hood. Thou didst bid me come, and lo, I do thy bidding.
I give myself to thee as thy true servant, and will do thy commanding,
even if it be to the shedding of the last drop of my life's blood."
But good Queen Eleanor smiled pleasantly upon him, bidding him to arise.
Then she made them all be seated to rest themselves after their long journey.
Rich food was brought them and noble wines, and she had her own pages
to wait upon the wants of the yeomen. At last, after they had eaten
all they could, she began questioning them of their merry adventures.
Then they told her all of the lusty doings herein spoken of, and among
others that concerning the Bishop of Hereford and Sir Richard of the Lea,
and how the Bishop had abided three days in Sherwood Forest. At this,
the Queen and the ladies about her laughed again and again, for they
pictured to themselves the stout Bishop abiding in the forest and ranging
the woods in lusty sport with Robin and his band. Then, when they had
told all that they could bring to mind, the Queen asked Allan to sing
to her, for his fame as a minstrel had reached even to the court at
London Town. So straightway Allan took up his harp in his hand, and,
without more asking, touched the strings lightly till they all rang sweetly,
then he sang thus:
"_Gentle river, gentle river,
Bright thy crystal waters flow,
Sliding where the aspens shiver,
Gliding where the lilies blow,
"Singing over pebbled shallows,
Kissing blossoms bending low,
Breaking 'neath the dipping swallows,
Purpling where the breezes blow.
"Floating on thy breast forever
Down thy current I could glide;
Grief and pain should reach me never
On thy bright and gentle tide.
"So my aching heart seeks thine, love,
There to find its rest and peace,
For, through loving, bliss is mine, love,
And my many troubles cease_."
Thus Allan sang, and as he sang all eyes dwelled upon him and not
a sound broke the stillness, and even after he had done the silence
hung for a short space. So the time passed till the hour drew nigh
for the holding of the great archery match in Finsbury Fields.
A gay sight were famous Finsbury Fields on that bright and sunny
morning of lusty summertime. Along the end of the meadow stood
the booths for the different bands of archers, for the King's yeomen
were divided into companies of fourscore men, and each company
had a captain over it; so on the bright greensward stood ten booths
of striped canvas, a booth for each band of the royal archers,
and at the peak of each fluttered a flag in the mellow air,
and the flag was the color that belonged to the captain of each band.
From the center booth hung the yellow flag of Tepus, the famous
bow bearer of the King; next to it, on one hand, was the blue
flag of Gilbert of the White Hand, and on the other the blood-red
pennant of stout young Clifton of Buckinghamshire. The seven
other archer captains were also men of great renown; among them
were Egbert of Kent and William of Southampton; but those first
named were most famous of all. The noise of many voices in talk
and laughter came from within the booths, and in and out ran
the attendants like ants about an ant-hill. Some bore ale
and beer, and some bundles of bowstrings or sheaves of arrows.
On each side of the archery range were rows upon rows of seats
reaching high aloft, and in the center of the north side was a raised
dais for the King and Queen, shaded by canvas of gay colors,
and hung about with streaming silken pennants of red and blue
and green and white. As yet the King and Queen had not come,
but all the other benches were full of people, rising head above
head high aloft till it made the eye dizzy to look upon them.
Eightscore yards distant from the mark from which the archers
were to shoot stood ten fair targets, each target marked by a flag
of the color belonging to the band that was to shoot thereat.
So all was ready for the coming of the King and Queen.
At last a great blast of bugles sounded, and into the meadow came
riding six trumpeters with silver trumpets, from which hung velvet
banners heavy with rich workings of silver and gold thread.
Behind these came stout King Henry upon a dapple-gray stallion,
with his Queen beside him upon a milk-white palfrey.
On either side of them walked the yeomen of the guard, the bright
sunlight flashing from the polished blades of the steel halberds
they carried. Behind these came the Court in a great crowd,
so that presently all the lawn was alive with bright colors,
with silk and velvet, with waving plumes and gleaming gold,
with flashing jewels and sword hilts; a gallant sight on that
bright summer day.
Then all the people arose and shouted, so that their voices
sounded like the storm upon the Cornish coast, when the dark
waves run upon the shore and leap and break, surging amid
the rocks; so, amid the roaring and the surging of the people,
and the waving of scarfs and kerchiefs, the King and Queen
came to their place, and, getting down from their horses,
mounted the broad stairs that led to the raised platform,
and there took their seats on two thrones bedecked with purple
silks and cloths of silver and of gold.
When all was quiet a bugle sounded, and straightway the archers came
marching in order from their tents. Fortyscore they were in all,
as stalwart a band of yeomen as could be found in all the wide world.
So they came in orderly fashion and stood in front of the dais where
King Henry and his Queen sat. King Henry looked up and down their
ranks right proudly, for his heart warmed within him at the sight
of such a gallant band of yeomen. Then he bade his herald Sir Hugh
de Mowbray stand forth and proclaim the rules governing the game.
So Sir Hugh stepped to the edge of the platform and spoke in a loud
clear voice, and thus he said:
That each man should shoot seven arrows at the target that belonged
to his band, and, of the fourscore yeomen of each band, the three
that shot the best should be chosen. These three should shoot three
arrows apiece, and the one that shot the best should again be chosen.
Then each of these should again shoot three arrows apiece,
and the one that shot the best should have the first prize,
the one that shot the next best should have the second,
and the one that shot the next best should have the third prize.
Each of the others should have fourscore silver pennies for his shooting.
The first prize was to be twoscore and ten golden pounds, a silver
bugle horn inlaid with gold, and a quiver with ten white arrows
tipped with gold and feathered with the white swan's-wing therein.
The second prize was to be fivescore of the fattest bucks that run
on Dallen Lea, to be shot when the yeoman that won them chose.
The third prize was to be two tuns of good Rhenish wine.
So Sir Hugh spoke, and when he had done all the archers waved
their bows aloft and shouted. Then each band turned and marched
in order back to its place.
And now the shooting began, the captains first taking stand and speeding
their shafts and then making room for the men who shot, each in turn,
after them. Two hundred and eighty score shafts were shot in all,
and so deftly were they sped that when the shooting was done each target
looked like the back of a hedgehog when the farm dog snuffs at it.
A long time was taken in this shooting, and when it was over the judges
came forward, looked carefully at the targets, and proclaimed in a
loud voice which three had shot the best from the separate bands.
Then a great hubbub of voices arose, each man among the crowd that
looked on calling for his favorite archer. Then ten fresh targets
were brought forward, and every sound was hushed as the archers took
their places once more.
This time the shooting was more speedily done, for only nine
shafts were shot by each band. Not an arrow missed the targets,
but in that of Gilbert of the White Hand five arrows were in the small
white spot that marked the center; of these five three were sped
by Gilbert. Then the judges came forward again, and looking at
the targets, called aloud the names of the archer chosen as the best
bowman of each band. Of these Gilbert of the White Hand led,
for six of the ten arrows he had shot had lodged in the center;
but stout Tepus and young Clifton trod close upon his heels;
yet the others stood a fair chance for the second or third place.
And now, amid the roaring of the crowd, those ten stout fellows that were
went back to their tents to rest for a while and change their bowstrings,
for nought must fail at this next round, and no hand must tremble or eye
dim because of weariness.
Then while the deep buzz and hum of talking sounded all around
like the noise of the wind in the leafy forest, Queen Eleanor
turned to the King, and quoth she, "Thinkest thou that these yeomen
so chosen are the very best archers in all merry England?"
"Yea, truly," said the King, smiling, for he was well
pleased with the sport that he had seen; "and I tell thee,
that not only are they the best archers in all merry England,
but in all the wide world beside."
"But what wouldst thou say," quoth Queen Eleanor, "if I were
three archers to match the best three yeomen of all thy guard?"
"I would say thou hast done what I could not do," said the King,
"for I tell thee there lives not in all the world three archers to
Tepus and Gilbert and Clifton of Buckinghamshire."
"Now," said the Queen, "I know of three yeomen, and in truth
have seen them not long since, that I would not fear to match
against any three that thou canst choose from among all thy
fortyscore archers; and, moreover, I will match them here this very day.
But I will only match them with thy archers providing that thou
wilt grant a free pardon to all that may come in my behalf."
At this, the King laughed loud and long. "Truly," said he,
"thou art taking up with strange matters for a queen.
If thou wilt bring those three fellows that thou speakest of,
I will promise faithfully to give them free pardon for forty days,
to come or to go wheresoever they please, nor will I harm a hair
of their heads in all that time. Moreover, if these that thou
bringest shoot better than my yeomen, man for man, they shall
have the prizes for themselves according to their shooting.
But as thou hast so taken up of a sudden with sports of this kind,
hast thou a mind for a wager?"
"Why, in sooth," said Queen Eleanor, laughing, "I know nought
of such matters, but if thou hast a mind to do somewhat in that way,
I will strive to pleasure thee. What wilt thou wager upon thy men?"
Then the merry King laughed again, for he dearly loved goodly jest;
so he said, amidst his laughter, "I will wager thee ten tuns of Rhenish
ten tuns of the stoutest ale, and tenscore bows of tempered Spanish yew,
with quivers and arrows to match."
All that stood around smiled at this, for it seemed a merry wager for
a king to give to a queen; but Queen Eleanor bowed her head quietly.
"I will take thy wager," said she, "for I know right well
where to place
those things that thou hast spoken of. Now, who will be on my side
in this matter?" And she looked around upon them that stood about;
but no one spake or cared to wager upon the Queen's side against
such archers as Tepus and Gilbert and Clifton. Then the Queen
spoke again, "Now, who will back me in this wager? Wilt thou,
my Lord Bishop of Hereford?"
"Nay," quoth the Bishop hastily, "it ill befits one of my
cloth to deal
in such matters. Moreover, there are no such archers as His Majesty's
in all the world; therefore I would but lose my money.
"Methinks the thought of thy gold weigheth more heavily
with thee than the wrong to thy cloth," said the Queen,
smiling, and at this a ripple of laughter went around,
for everyone knew how fond the Bishop was of his money.
Then the Queen turned to a knight who stood near, whose name was
Sir Robert Lee. "Wilt thou back me in this manner?" said she.
"Thou art surely rich enough to risk so much for the sake of a lady."
"To pleasure my Queen I will do it," said Sir Robert Lee,
"but for the sake of no other in all the world would I wager a groat,
for no man can stand against Tepus and Gilbert and Clifton."
Then turning to the King, Queen Eleanor said, "I want no such aid
as Sir Robert giveth me; but against thy wine and beer and stout bows
of yew I wager this girdle all set with jewels from around my waist;
and surely that is worth more than thine."
"Now, I take thy wager," quoth the King. "Send for thy archers
But here come forth the others; let them shoot, and then I will match
those that win against all the world."
"So be it," said the Queen. Thereupon, beckoning to young
Richard Partington, she whispered something in his ear, and straightway
the Page bowed and left the place, crossing the meadow to the other
side of the range, where he was presently lost in the crowd.
At this, all that stood around whispered to one another,
wondering what it all meant, and what three men the Queen was
about to set against those famous archers of the King's guard.
And now the ten archers of the King's guard took their stand again,
and all the great crowd was hushed to the stillness of death.
Slowly and carefully each man shot his shafts, and so deep was
the silence that you could hear every arrow rap against the target
as it struck it. Then, when the last shaft had sped, a great roar
went up; and the shooting, I wot, was well worthy of the sound.
Once again Gilbert had lodged three arrows in the white; Tepus came
second with two in the white and one in the black ring next to it;
but stout Clifton had gone down and Hubert of Suffolk had taken
the third place, for, while both those two good yeomen had lodged
two in the white, Clifton had lost one shot upon the fourth ring,
and Hubert came in with one in the third.
All the archers around Gilbert's booth shouted for joy till their throats
were hoarse, tossing their caps aloft, and shaking hands with one another.
In the midst of all the noise and hubbub five men came walking across
the lawn toward the King's pavilion. The first was Richard Partington,
and was known to most folk there, but the others were strange to everybody.
Beside young Partington walked a yeoman clad in blue, and behind
came three others, two in Lincoln green and one in scarlet.
This last yeoman carried three stout bows of yew tree, two fancifully
inlaid with silver and one with gold. While these five men came
walking across the meadow, a messenger came running from the King's
booth and summoned Gilbert and Tepus and Hubert to go with him.
And now the shouting quickly ceased, for all saw that something
unwonted was toward, so the folk stood up in their places and leaned
forward to see what was the ado.
When Partington and the others came before the spot where the King and
Queen sat, the four yeomen bent their knees and doffed their caps unto her.
King Henry leaned far forward and stared at them closely, but the Bishop
of Hereford, when he saw their faces, started as though stung by a wasp.
He opened his mouth as though about to speak, but, looking up, he saw
the Queen gazing at him with a smile upon her lips, so he said nothing,
but bit his nether lip, while his face was as red as a cherry.
Then the Queen leaned forward and spake in a clear voice.
"Locksley," said she, "I have made a wager with the King
and two of thy men can outshoot any three that he can send against you.
Wilt thou do thy best for my sake?"
"Yea," quoth Robin Hood, to whom she spake, "I will do my
best for thy sake,
and, if I fail, I make my vow never to finger bowstring more."
Now, although Little John had been somewhat abashed in the Queen's bower,
he felt himself the sturdy fellow he was when the soles of his feet pressed
green grass again; so he said boldly, "Now, blessings on thy sweet
say I. An there lived a man that would not do his best for thee--I will
say nought, only I would like to have the cracking of his knave's pate!
"Peace, Little John!" said Robin Hood hastily, in a low voice;
but good Queen Eleanor laughed aloud, and a ripple of merriment
sounded all over the booth.
The Bishop of Hereford did not laugh, neither did the King,
but he turned to the Queen, and quoth he, "Who are these men
that thou hast brought before us?"
Then up spoke the Bishop hastily, for he could hold his peace no longer:
"Your Majesty," quoth he, "yon fellow in blue is a certain
thief of the mid-country, named Robin Hood; yon tall, strapping villain
goeth by the name of Little John; the other fellow in green is a certain
backsliding gentleman, known as Will Scarlet; the man in red is a rogue
of a northern minstrel, named Allan a Dale."
At this speech the King's brows drew together blackly, and he turned
to the Queen. "Is this true?" said he sternly.
"Yea," said the Queen, smiling, "the Bishop hath told the
and truly he should know them well, for he and two of his friars spent
three days in merry sport with Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest. I did
little think that the good Bishop would so betray his friends.
But bear in mind that thou hast pledged thy promise for the safety
of these good yeomen for forty days."
"I will keep my promise," said the King, in a deep voice
that showed the anger in his heart, "but when these forty
days are gone let this outlaw look to himself, for mayhap
things will not go so smoothly with him as he would like."
Then he turned to his archers, who stood near the Sherwood yeomen,
listening and wondering at all that passed. Quoth he,
"Gilbert, and thou, Tepus, and thou, Hubert, I have pledged
myself that ye shall shoot against these three fellows.
If ye outshoot the knaves I will fill your caps with silver pennies;
if ye fail ye shall lose your prizes that ye have won so fairly,
and they go to them that shoot against you, man to man.
Do your best, lads, and if ye win this bout ye shall be glad
of it to the last days of your life. Go, now, and get you gone
to the butts."
Then the three archers of the King turned and went back to their booths,
and Robin and his men went to their places at the mark from which they
were to shoot. Then they strung their bows and made themselves ready,
looking over their quivers of arrows, and picking out the roundest
and the best feathered.
But when the King's archers went to their tents, they told
their friends all that had passed, and how that these four
men were the famous Robin Hood and three of his band, to wit,
Little John, Will Scarlet, and Allan a Dale. The news of this
buzzed around among the archers in the booths, for there was not
a man there that had not heard of these great mid-country yeomen.
From the archers the news was taken up by the crowd that looked
on at the shooting, so that at last everybody stood up,
craning their necks to catch sight of the famous outlaws.
Six fresh targets were now set up, one for each man that was to shoot;
whereupon Gilbert and Tepus and Hubert came straightway forth
from the booths. Then Robin Hood and Gilbert of the White Hand
tossed a farthing aloft to see who should lead in the shooting,
and the lot fell to Gilbert's side; thereupon he called upon Hubert
of Suffolk to lead.
Hubert took his place, planted his foot firmly, and fitted a fair,
smooth arrow; then, breathing upon his fingertips, he drew the string
slowly and carefully. The arrow sped true, and lodged in the white;
again he shot, and again he hit the clout; a third shaft he sped,
but this time failed of the center, and but struck the black,
yet not more than a finger's-breadth from the white.
At this a shout went up, for it was the best shooting that Hubert
had yet done that day.
Merry Robin laughed, and quoth he, "Thou wilt have an ill
time bettering that round, Will, for it is thy turn next.
Brace thy thews, lad, and bring not shame upon Sherwood."
Then Will Scarlet took his place; but, because of overcaution,
he spoiled his target with the very first arrow that he sped,
for he hit the next ring to the black, the second from the center.
At this Robin bit his lips. "Lad, lad," quoth he, "hold not
so long! Have I not often told thee what Gaffer Swanthold sayeth,
that `overcaution spilleth the milk'?" To this Will Scarlet took heed,
so the next arrow he shot lodged fairly in the center ring;
again he shot, and again he smote the center; but, for all that,
stout Hubert had outshot him, and showed the better target.
Then all those that looked on clapped their hands for joy because
that Hubert had overcome the stranger.
Quoth the King grimly, to the Queen, "If thy archers shoot
no better than that, thou art like to lose thy wager, lady."
But Queen Eleanor smiled, for she looked for better things
from Robin Hood and Little John.
And now Tepus took his place to shoot. He, also, took overheed
to what he was about, and so he fell into Will Scarlet's error.
The first arrow he struck into the center ring, but the second missed
its mark, and smote the black; the last arrow was tipped with luck, for
smote the very center of the clout, upon the black spot that marked it.
Quoth Robin Hood, "That is the sweetest shot that hath been sped
this day; but, nevertheless, friend Tepus, thy cake is burned, methinks.
Little John, it is thy turn next."
So Little John took his place as bidden, and shot his three arrows quickly.
He never lowered his bow arm in all the shooting, but fitted each shaft
with his longbow raised; yet all three of his arrows smote the center
within easy distance of the black. At this no sound of shouting was heard,
for, although it was the best shooting that had been done that day,
the folk of London Town did not like to see the stout Tepus overcome
by a fellow from the countryside, even were he as famous as Little John.
And now stout Gilbert of the White Hand took his place and shot
with the greatest care; and again, for the third time in one day,
he struck all three shafts into the clout.
"Well done, Gilbert!" quoth Robin Hood, smiting him upon the shoulder.
"I make my vow, thou art one of the best archers that ever mine eyes
Thou shouldst be a free and merry ranger like us, lad, for thou art
better fitted for the greenwood than for the cobblestones and gray
walls of London Town." So saying, he took his place, and drew a fair,
round arrow from his quiver, which he turned over and over ere he fitted
it to his bowstring.
Then the King muttered in his beard, "Now, blessed Saint Hubert, if
but jog that rogue's elbow so as to make him smite even the second ring,
I will give eightscore waxen candles three fingers'-breadth in thickness
to thy chapel nigh Matching." But it may be Saint Hubert's ears were
with tow, for he seemed not to hear the King's prayer this day.
Having gotten three shafts to his liking, merry Robin looked
carefully to his bowstring ere he shot. "Yea," quoth he to Gilbert,
who stood nigh him to watch his shooting, "thou shouldst pay us
a visit at merry Sherwood." Here he drew the bowstring to his ear.
"In London"--here he loosed his shaft--"thou canst find nought
to shoot at but rooks and daws; there one can tickle the ribs
of the noblest stags in England." So he shot even while he talked,
yet the shaft lodged not more than half an inch from the very center.
"By my soul!" cried Gilbert. "Art thou the devil in blue,
to shoot in that wise?"
"Nay," quoth Robin, laughing, "not quite so ill as that,
And he took up another shaft and fitted it to the string.
Again he shot, and again he smote his arrow close beside
the center; a third time he loosed his bowstring and dropped
his arrow just betwixt the other two and into the very center,
so that the feathers of all three were ruffled together,
seeming from a distance to be one thick shaft.
And now a low murmur ran all among that great crowd,
for never before had London seen such shooting as this;
and never again would it see it after Robin Hood's day had gone.
All saw that the King's archers were fairly beaten, and stout Gilbert
clapped his palm to Robin's, owning that he could never hope to draw
such a bowstring as Robin Hood or Little John. But the King,
full of wrath, would not have it so, though he knew in his
mind that his men could not stand against those fellows.
"Nay!" cried he, clenching his hands upon the arms of his seat,
"Gilbert is not yet beaten! Did he not strike the clout thrice?
Although I have lost my wager, he hath not yet lost the first prize.
They shall shoot again, and still again, till either he or that knave
Robin Hood cometh off the best. Go thou, Sir Hugh, and bid them shoot
another round, and another, until one or the other is overcome."
Then Sir Hugh, seeing how wroth the King was, said never a word,
but went straightway to do his bidding; so he came to where Robin Hood
and the other stood, and told them what the King had said.
"With all my heart," quoth merry Robin, "I will shoot from
time till tomorrow day if it can pleasure my most gracious lord
and King. Take thy place, Gilbert lad, and shoot."
So Gilbert took his place once more, but this time he failed, for,
a sudden little wind arising, his shaft missed the center ring,
but by not more than the breadth of a barley straw.
"Thy eggs are cracked, Gilbert," quoth Robin, laughing; and straightway
he loosed a shaft, and once more smote the white circle of the center.
Then the King arose from his place, and not a word said he,
but he looked around with a baleful look, and it would have been an ill
day for anyone that he saw with a joyous or a merry look upon his face.
Then he and his Queen and all the court left the place, but the King's
heart was brimming full of wrath.
After the King had gone, all the yeomen of the archer guard came
crowding around Robin, and Little John, and Will, and Allan,
to snatch a look at these famous fellows from the mid-country;
and with them came many that had been onlookers at the sport,
for the same purpose. Thus it happened presently that the yeomen,
to whom Gilbert stood talking, were all surrounded by a crowd
of people that formed a ring about them.
After a while the three judges that had the giving away of the prizes
came forward, and the chief of them all spake to Robin and said,
"According to agreement, the first prize belongeth rightly to thee;
so here I give thee the silver bugle, here the quiver of ten golden arrows,
and here a purse of twoscore and ten golden pounds." And as he spake
he handed those things to Robin, and then turned to Little John. "To
he said, "belongeth the second prize, to wit, fivescore of the finest
that run on Dallen Lea. Thou mayest shoot them whensoever thou dost list."
Last of all he turned to stout Hubert. "Thou," said he, "hast
thine own against the yeomen with whom thou didst shoot, and so thou
hast kept the prize duly thine, to wit, two tuns of good Rhenish wine.
These shall be delivered to thee whensoever thou dost list."
Then he called upon the other seven of the King's archers who had last shot,
and gave each fourscore silver pennies.
Then up spake Robin, and quoth he, "This silver bugle I keep in honor
of this shooting match; but thou, Gilbert, art the best archer of all
the King's guard, and to thee I freely give this purse of gold.
Take it, man, and would it were ten times as much, for thou art
a right yeoman, good and true. Furthermore, to each of the ten
that last shot I give one of these golden shafts apiece.
Keep them always by you, so that ye may tell your grandchildren,
an ye are ever blessed with them, that ye are the very stoutest
yeomen in all the wide world."
At this all shouted aloud, for it pleased them to hear Robin
speak so of them.
Then up spake Little John. "Good friend Tepus," said he, "I
not those harts of Dallen Lea that yon stout judge spoke of but now,
for in truth we have enow and more than enow in our own country.
Twoscore and ten I give to thee for thine own shooting, and five
I give to each band for their pleasure.
At this another great shout went up, and many tossed their caps aloft,
and swore among themselves that no better fellows ever walked the sod
than Robin Hood and his stout yeomen.
While they so shouted with loud voices, a tall burly yeoman
of the King's guard came forward and plucked Robin by the sleeve.
"Good master," quoth he, "I have somewhat to tell thee in
a silly thing, God wot, for one stout yeoman to tell another;
but a young peacock of a page, one Richard Partington, was seeking thee
without avail in the crowd, and, not being able to find thee, told me
that he bore a message to thee from a certain lady that thou wottest of.
This message he bade me tell thee privily, word for word, and thus it was.
Let me see--I trust I have forgot it not--yea, thus it was:
`The lion growls. Beware thy head.' "
"Is it so?" quoth Robin, starting; for he knew right well that
the Queen sent the message, and that she spake of the King's wrath.
"Now, I thank thee, good fellow, for thou hast done me greater service
than thou knowest of this day." Then he called his three yeomen together
and told them privately that they had best be jogging, as it was like to
be ill for them so nigh merry London Town. So, without tarrying longer,
they made their way through the crowd until they had come out from the press.
Then, without stopping, they left London Town and started away northward.
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Room | The
Merry Adventures of Robin Hood