Robin Hood and Guy of Gisbourne
A LONG TIME passed after the great shooting match, and during
that time Robin followed one part of the advice of Sir Robert Lee,
to wit, that of being less bold in his comings and his goings;
for though mayhap he may not have been more honest (as most folks
regard honesty), he took good care not to travel so far from
Sherwood that he could not reach it both easily and quickly.
Great changes had fallen in this time; for King Henry had died
and King Richard had come to the crown that fitted him so well
through many hard trials, and through adventures as stirring
as any that ever befell Robin Hood. But though great changes came,
they did not reach to Sherwood's shades, for there Robin Hood
and his men dwelled as merrily as they had ever done,
with hunting and feasting and singing and blithe woodland sports;
for it was little the outside striving of the world troubled them.
The dawning of a summer's day was fresh and bright,
and the birds sang sweetly in a great tumult of sound.
So loud was their singing that it awakened Robin Hood where
he lay sleeping, so that he stirred, and turned, and arose.
Up rose Little John also, and all the merry men; then, after they
had broken their fast, they set forth hither and thither upon
the doings of the day.
Robin Hood and Little John walked down a forest path where
all around the leaves danced and twinkled as the breeze
trembled through them and the sunlight came flickering down.
Quoth Robin Hood, "I make my vow, Little John, my blood
tickles my veins as it flows through them this gay morn.
What sayst thou to our seeking adventures, each one upon
his own account?"
"With all my heart," said Little John. "We have had
more than one pleasant doing in that way, good master.
Here are two paths; take thou the one to the right hand,
and I will take the one to the left, and then let us each walk
straight ahead till he tumble into some merry doing or other."
"I like thy plan," quoth Robin, "therefore we will part here.
But look thee, Little John, keep thyself out of mischief,
for I would not have ill befall thee for all the world."
"Marry, come up," quoth Little John, "how thou talkest!
Methinks thou art wont to get thyself into tighter coils than I
am like to do."
At this Robin Hood laughed. "Why, in sooth, Little John,"
said he, "thou hast a blundering hard-headed way that seemeth
to bring thee right side uppermost in all thy troubles;
but let us see who cometh out best this day." So saying,
he clapped his palm to Little John's and each departed upon his way,
the trees quickly shutting the one from the other's sight.
Robin Hood strolled onward till he came to where a broad woodland road
stretched before him. Overhead the branches of the trees laced together
in flickering foliage, all golden where it grew thin to the sunlight;
beneath his feet the ground was soft and moist from the sheltering shade.
Here in this pleasant spot the sharpest adventure that ever befell Robin
came upon him; for, as he walked down the woodland path thinking of nought
but the songs of the birds, he came of a sudden to where a man was seated
upon the mossy roots beneath the shade of a broad-spreading oak tree.
Robin Hood saw that the stranger had not caught sight of him,
so he stopped and stood quite still, looking at the other a long time
before he came forward. And the stranger, I wot, was well worth looking
for never had Robin seen a figure like that sitting beneath the tree.
From his head to his feet he was clad in a horse's hide, dressed with
the hair upon it. Upon his head was a cowl that hid his face
from sight, and which was made of the horse's skin, the ears whereof
stuck up like those of a rabbit. His body was clad in a jacket made
of the hide, and his legs were covered with the hairy skin likewise.
By his side was a heavy broadsword and a sharp, double-edged dagger.
A quiver of smooth round arrows hung across his shoulders, and his stout
bow of yew leaned against the tree beside him.
"Halloa, friend," cried Robin, coming forward at last, "who
that sittest there? And what is that that thou hast upon thy body?
I make my vow I ha' never seen such a sight in all my life before.
Had I done an evil thing, or did my conscience trouble me, I would
be afraid of thee, thinking that thou wast someone from down below
bringing a message bidding me come straightway to King Nicholas."
To this speech the other answered not a word, but he pushed
the cowl back from his head and showed a knit brow, a hooked nose,
and a pair of fierce, restless black eyes, which altogether made
Robin think of a hawk as he looked on his face. But beside this
there was something about the lines on the stranger's face,
and his thin cruel mouth, and the hard glare of his eyes,
that made one's flesh creep to look upon.
"Who art thou, rascal?" said he at last, in a loud, harsh voice.
"Tut, tut," quoth merry Robin, "speak not so sourly, brother.
Hast thou fed upon vinegar and nettles this morning that thy
speech is so stinging?"
"An thou likest not my words," said the other fiercely, "thou
best be jogging, for I tell thee plainly, my deeds match them."
"Nay, but I do like thy words, thou sweet, pretty thing,"
quoth Robin, squatting down upon the grass in front of the other.
"Moreover, I tell thee thy speech is witty and gamesome as any I
ever heard in all my life."
The other said not a word, but he glared upon Robin with a wicked and baleful
look, such as a fierce dog bestows upon a man ere it springs at his throat.
Robin returned the gaze with one of wide-eyed innocence, not a shadow
of a smile twinkling in his eyes or twitching at the corners of his mouth.
So they sat staring at one another for a long time, until the stranger broke
the silence suddenly. "What is thy name, fellow?" said he.
"Now," quoth Robin, "I am right glad to hear thee speak,
for I began to fear the sight of me had stricken thee dumb.
As for my name, it may be this or it may be that; but methinks
it is more meet for thee to tell me thine, seeing that thou art
the greater stranger in these parts. Prythee, tell me, sweet chuck,
why wearest thou that dainty garb upon thy pretty body?"
At these words the other broke into a short, harsh roar of laughter.
"By the bones of the Daemon Odin," said he, "thou art
the boldest-spoken man that ever I have seen in all my life.
I know not why I do not smite thee down where thou sittest,
for only two days ago I skewered a man over back of Nottingham Town
for saying not half so much to me as thou hast done.
I wear this garb, thou fool, to keep my body warm;
likewise it is near as good as a coat of steel against a common
sword-thrust. As for my name, I care not who knoweth it.
It is Guy of Gisbourne, and thou mayst have heard it before.
I come from the woodlands over in Herefordshire, upon the lands
of the Bishop of that ilk. I am an outlaw, and get my living
by hook and by crook in a manner it boots not now to tell of.
Not long since the Bishop sent for me, and said that if I would
do a certain thing that the Sheriff of Nottingham would ask of me,
he would get me a free pardon, and give me tenscore pounds to boot.
So straightway I came to Nottingham Town and found my
sweet Sheriff; and what thinkest thou he wanted of me?
Why, forsooth, to come here to Sherwood to hunt up one
Robin Hood, also an outlaw, and to take him alive or dead.
It seemeth that they have no one here to face that bold fellow,
and so sent all the way to Herefordshire, and to me, for thou
knowest the old saying, `Set a thief to catch a thief.'
As for the slaying of this fellow, it galleth me not a whit,
for I would shed the blood of my own brother for the half
of two hundred pounds."
To all this Robin listened, and as he listened his gorge rose.
Well he knew of this Guy of Gisbourne, and of all the bloody and
murderous deeds that he had done in Herefordshire, for his doings
were famous throughout all the land. Yet, although he loathed
the very presence of the man, he held his peace, for he had an end
to serve. "Truly," quoth he, "I have heard of thy gentle
Methinks there is no one in all the world that Robin Hood would
rather meet than thee."
At this Guy of Gisbourne gave another harsh laugh. "Why," quoth
"it is a merry thing to think of one stout outlaw like Robin Hood
meeting another stout outlaw like Guy of Gisbourne. Only in this
case it will be an ill happening for Robin Hood, for the day he meets
Guy of Gisbourne he shall die."
"But thou gentle, merry spirit," quoth Robin, "dost thou
that mayhap this same Robin Hood may be the better man of the two?
I know him right well, and many think that he is one of the
stoutest men hereabouts."
"He may be the stoutest of men hereabouts," quoth Guy of Gisbourne,
"yet, I tell thee, fellow, this sty of yours is not the wide world.
I lay my life upon it I am the better man of the two.
He an outlaw, forsooth! Why, I hear that he hath never let
blood in all his life, saving when he first came to the forest.
Some call him a great archer; marry, I would not be afraid to stand
against him all the days of the year with a bow in my hand."
"Why, truly, some folk do call him a great archer," said Robin
"but we of Nottinghamshire are famous hands with the longbow.
Even I, though but a simple hand at the craft, would not fear to try
a bout with thee."
At these words Guy of Gisbourne looked upon Robin with wondering eyes,
and then gave another roar of laughter till the woods rang.
"Now," quoth he, "thou art a bold fellow to talk to me in
I like thy spirit in so speaking up to me, for few men have dared to do
Put up a garland, lad, and I will try a bout with thee."
"Tut, tut," quoth Robin, "only babes shoot at garlands hereabouts.
I will put up a good Nottingham mark for thee."
So saying, he arose, and going to a hazel thicket not far off,
he cut a wand about twice the thickness of a man's thumb.
From this he peeled the bark, and, sharpening the point,
stuck it up in the ground in front of a great oak tree.
Thence he measured off fourscore paces, which brought him
beside the tree where the other sat. "There," quoth he,
"is the kind of mark that Nottingham yeomen shoot at.
Now let me see thee split that wand if thou art an archer."
Then Guy of Gisbourne arose. "Now out upon it!" cried he.
"The Devil himself could not hit such a mark as that."
"Mayhap he could and mayhap he could not," quoth merry Robin,
"but that we shall never know till thou hast shot thereat."
At these words Guy of Gisbourne looked upon Robin with knit brows,
but, as the yeoman still looked innocent of any ill meaning,
he bottled his words and strung his bow in silence. Twice he shot,
but neither time did he hit the wand, missing it the first time by a span
and the second time by a good palm's-breadth. Robin laughed and laughed.
"I see now," quoth he, "that the Devil himself could not
hit that mark.
Good fellow, if thou art no better with the broadsword than thou art
with the bow and arrow, thou wilt never overcome Robin Hood."
At these words Guy of Gisbourne glared savagely upon Robin. Quoth he,
"Thou hast a merry tongue, thou villain; but take care that thou makest
not too free with it, or I may cut it out from thy throat for thee."
Robin Hood strung his bow and took his place with never a word,
albeit his heartstrings quivered with anger and loathing.
Twice he shot, the first time hitting within an inch of
the wand, the second time splitting it fairly in the middle.
Then, without giving the other a chance for speech, he flung his bow
upon the ground. "There, thou bloody villain!" cried he fiercely,
"let that show thee how little thou knowest of manly sports.
And now look thy last upon the daylight, for the good earth
hath been befouled long enough by thee, thou vile beast!
This day, Our Lady willing, thou diest--I am Robin Hood." So saying,
he flashed forth his bright sword in the sunlight.
For a time Guy of Gisbourne stared upon Robin as though bereft of wits;
but his wonder quickly passed to a wild rage. "Art thou indeed Robin
cried he. "Now I am glad to meet thee, thou poor wretch! Shrive thyself,
for thou wilt have no time for shriving when I am done with thee."
So saying, he also drew his sword.
And now came the fiercest fight that ever Sherwood saw;
for each man knew that either he or the other must die,
and that no mercy was to be had in this battle.
Up and down they fought, till all the sweet green grass was
crushed and ground beneath the trampling of their heels.
More than once the point of Robin Hood's sword felt the softness
of flesh, and presently the ground began to be sprinkled with bright
red drops, albeit not one of them came from Robin's veins.
At last Guy of Gisbourne made a fierce and deadly thrust at
Robin Hood, from which he leaped back lightly, but in so leaping
he caught his heel in a root and fell heavily upon his back.
"Now, Holy Mary aid me!" muttered he, as the other leaped at him,
with a grin of rage upon his face. Fiercely Guy of Gisbourne
stabbed at the other with his great sword, but Robin caught
the blade in his naked hand, and, though it cut his palm,
he turned the point away so that it plunged deep into the ground
close beside him; then, ere a blow could be struck again,
he leaped to his feet, with his good sword in his hand.
And now despair fell upon Guy of Gisbourne's heart in a black cloud,
and he looked around him wildly, like a wounded hawk.
Seeing that his strength was going from him, Robin leaped forward, and,
quick as a flash, struck a back-handed blow beneath the sword arm.
Down fell the sword from Guy of Gisbourne's grasp, and back
he staggered at the stroke, and, ere he could regain himself,
Robin's sword passed through and through his body. Round he spun
upon his heel, and, flinging his hands aloft with a shrill,
wild cry, fell prone upon his face upon the green sod.
Then Robin Hood wiped his sword and thrust it back into
the scabbard, and, coming to where Guy of Gisbourne lay,
he stood over him with folded arms, talking to himself the while.
"This is the first man I have slain since I shot the Kings
forester in the hot days of my youth. I ofttimes think bitterly,
even yet, of that first life I took, but of this I am as glad
as though I had slain a wild boar that laid waste a fair country.
Since the Sheriff of Nottingham hath sent such a one as this
against me, I will put on the fellow's garb and go forth to see
whether I may not find his worship, and perchance pay him back
some of the debt I owe him upon this score."
So saying, Robin Hood stripped the hairy garments from off
the dead man, and put them on himself, all bloody as they were.
Then, strapping the other's sword and dagger around his body
and carrying his own in his hand, together with the two bows
of yew, he drew the cowl of horse's hide over his face, so that none
could tell who he was, and set forth from the forest, turning his
steps toward the eastward and Nottingham Town. As he strode along
the country roads, men, women, and children hid away from him,
for the terror of Guy of Gisbourne's name and of his doings had
spread far and near.
And now let us see what befell Little John while these things were happening.
Little John walked on his way through the forest paths until he had
come to the outskirts of the woodlands, where, here and there,
fields of barley, corn, or green meadow lands lay smiling in the sun.
So he came to the highroad and to where a little thatched
cottage stood back of a cluster of twisted crab trees,
with flowers in front of it. Here he stopped of a sudden,
for he thought that he heard the sound of someone in sorrow.
He listened, and found that it came from the cottage; so, turning his
footsteps thither, he pushed open the wicket and entered the place.
There he saw a gray-haired dame sitting beside a cold hearthstone,
rocking herself to and fro and weeping bitterly.
Now Little John had a tender heart for the sorrows of other folk, so,
coming to the old woman and patting her kindly upon the shoulder,
he spoke comforting words to her, bidding her cheer up and tell him
her troubles, for that mayhap he might do something to ease them.
At all this the good dame shook her head; but all the same his kind
words did soothe her somewhat, so after a while she told him all
that bore upon her mind. That that morning she had three as fair,
tall sons beside her as one could find in all Nottinghamshire, but that
they were now taken from her, and were like to be hanged straightway;
that, want having come upon them, her eldest boy had gone out,
the night before, into the forest, and had slain a hind in the moonlight;
that the King's rangers had followed the blood upon the grass
until they had come to her cottage, and had there found the deer's
meat in the cupboard; that, as neither of the younger sons would
betray their brother, the foresters had taken all three away,
in spite of the oldest saying that he alone had slain the deer;
that, as they went, she had heard the rangers talking among themselves,
saying that the Sheriff had sworn that he would put a check upon
the great slaughter of deer that had been going on of late by
hanging the very first rogue caught thereat upon the nearest tree,
and that they would take the three youths to the King's Head Inn,
near Nottingham Town, where the Sheriff was abiding that day,
there to await the return of a certain fellow he had sent into
Sherwood to seek for Robin Hood.
To all this Little John listened, shaking his head sadly now and then.
"Alas," quoth he, when the good dame had finished her speech,
"this is indeed an ill case. But who is this that goeth into
Sherwood after Robin Hood, and why doth he go to seek him?
But no matter for that now; only that I would that Robin Hood were
here to advise us. Nevertheless, no time may be lost in sending
for him at this hour, if we would save the lives of thy three sons.
Tell me, hast thou any clothes hereabouts that I may put on in place
of these of Lincoln green? Marry, if our stout Sheriff catcheth me
without disguise, I am like to be run up more quickly than thy sons,
let me tell thee, dame."
Then the old woman told him that she had in the house some of the
clothes of her good husband, who had died only two years before.
These she brought to Little John, who, doffing his garb of Lincoln green,
put them on in its stead. Then, making a wig and false beard
of uncarded wool, he covered his own brown hair and beard, and,
putting on a great, tall hat that had belonged to the old peasant,
he took his staff in one hand and his bow in the other, and set
forth with all speed to where the Sheriff had taken up his inn.
A mile or more from Nottingham Town, and not far from the southern
borders of Sherwood Forest, stood the cosy inn bearing the sign
of the King's Head. Here was a great bustle and stir on this
bright morning, for the Sheriff and a score of his men had come
to stop there and await Guy of Gisbourne's return from the forest.
Great hiss and fuss of cooking was going on in the kitchen,
and great rapping and tapping of wine kegs and beer barrels was
going on in the cellar. The Sheriff sat within, feasting merrily
of the best the place afforded, and the Sheriff's men sat upon
the bench before the door, quaffing ale, or lay beneath the shade
of the broad-spreading oak trees, talking and jesting and laughing.
All around stood the horses of the band, with a great noise
of stamping feet and a great switching of tails. To this inn came
the King's rangers, driving the widow's three sons before them.
The hands of the three youths were tied tightly behind their backs,
and a cord from neck to neck fastened them all together.
So they were marched to the room where the Sheriff sat at meat,
and stood trembling before him as he scowled sternly upon them.
"So," quoth he, in a great, loud, angry voice, "ye have been
the King's deer, have you? Now I will make short work of you this day,
for I will hang up all three of you as a farmer would hang up three crows
to scare others of the kind from the field. Our fair county of Nottingham
hath been too long a breeding place for such naughty knaves as ye are.
I have put up with these things for many years, but now I will stamp them
out once for all, and with you I will begin."
Then one of the poor fellows opened his mouth to speak,
but the Sheriff roared at him in a loud voice to be silent,
and bade the rangers to take them away till he had done
his eating and could attend to the matters concerning them.
So the three poor youths were marched outside, where they stood
with bowed heads and despairing hearts, till after a while
the Sheriff came forth. Then he called his men about him,
and quoth he, "These three villains shall be hanged straightway,
but not here, lest they breed ill luck to this goodly inn.
We will take them over yonder to that belt of woodlands, for I
would fain hang them upon the very trees of Sherwood itself,
to show those vile outlaws therein what they may expect of me
if I ever have the good luck to lay hands upon them." So saying,
he mounted his horse, as did his men-at-arms likewise, and all
together they set forth for the belt of woodlands he had spoken of,
the poor youths walking in their midst guarded by the rangers.
So they came at last to the spot, and here nooses were fastened
around the necks of the three, and the ends of the cords
flung over the branch of a great oak tree that stood there.
Then the three youths fell upon their knees and loudly besought mercy
of the Sheriff; but the Sheriff of Nottingham laughed scornfully.
"Now," quoth he, "I would that I had a priest here to shrive
but, as none is nigh, you must e'en travel your road with all
your sins packed upon your backs, and trust to Saint Peter
to let you in through the gates of Paradise like three peddlers
into the town."
In the meantime, while all this had been going forward, an old
man had drawn near and stood leaning on his staff, looking on.
His hair and beard were all curly and white, and across his back
was a bow of yew that looked much too strong for him to draw.
As the Sheriff looked around ere he ordered his men to string
the three youths up to the oak tree, his eyes fell upon this
strange old man. Then his worship beckoned to him, saying,
"Come hither, father, I have a few words to say to thee."
So Little John, for it was none other than he, came forward,
and the Sheriff looked upon him, thinking that there
was something strangely familiar in the face before him.
"How, now," said he, "methinks I have seen thee before.
What may thy name be, father?"
"Please Your Worship," said Little John, in a cracked voice like
of an old man, "my name is Giles Hobble, at Your Worship's service."
"Giles Hobble, Giles Hobble," muttered the Sheriff to himself,
the names that he had in his mind to try to find one to fit to this.
"I remember not thy name," said he at last, "but it matters
Hast thou a mind to earn sixpence this bright morn?"
"Ay, marry," quoth Little John, "for money is not so plenty
that I should cast sixpence away an I could earn it by an honest turn.
What is it Your Worship would have me do?"
"Why, this," said the Sheriff. "Here are three men that need
hanging as badly
as any e'er I saw. If thou wilt string them up I will pay thee twopence
apiece for them. I like not that my men-at-arms should turn hangmen.
Wilt thou try thy hand?"
"In sooth," said Little John, still in the old man's voice, "I
never done such a thing before; but an a sixpence is to be earned
so easily I might as well ha' it as anybody. But, Your Worship,
are these naughty fellows shrived?"
"Nay," said the Sheriff, laughing, "never a whit; but thou
mayst turn thy hand to that also if thou art so minded.
But hasten, I prythee, for I would get back to mine inn betimes."
So Little John came to where the three youths stood trembling,
and, putting his face to the first fellow's cheek as though
he were listening to him, he whispered softly into his ear,
"Stand still, brother, when thou feelest thy bonds cut, but when thou
seest me throw my woolen wig and beard from my head and face,
cast the noose from thy neck and run for the woodlands."
Then he slyly cut the cord that bound the youth's hands;
who, upon his part, stood still as though he were yet bound.
Then he went to the second fellow, and spoke to him in the same way,
and also cut his bonds. This he did to the third likewise,
but all so slyly that the Sheriff, who sat upon his horse laughing,
wotted not what was being done, nor his men either.
Then Little John turned to the Sheriff. "Please Your Worship,"
said he, "will you give me leave to string my bow?
For I would fain help these fellows along the way, when they
are swinging, with an arrow beneath the ribs."
"With all my heart," said the Sheriff, "only, as I said before,
make thou haste in thy doings."
Little John put the tip of his bow to his instep, and strung
the weapon so deftly that all wondered to see an old man so strong.
Next he drew a good smooth arrow from his quiver and fitted it
to the string; then, looking all around to see that the way was clear
behind him, he suddenly cast away the wool from his head and face,
shouting in a mighty voice, "Run!" Quick as a flash the three
youths flung the nooses from their necks and sped across the open
to the woodlands as the arrow speeds from the bow. Little John also
flew toward the covert like a greyhound, while the Sheriff
and his men gazed after him all bewildered with the sudden doing.
But ere the yeoman had gone far the Sheriff roused himself.
"After him!" he roared in a mighty voice; for he knew now who
was with whom he had been talking, and wondered that he had
not known him before.
Little John heard the Sheriff's words, and seeing that he could
not hope to reach the woodlands before they would be upon him,
he stopped and turned suddenly, holding his bow as though
he were about to shoot. "Stand back!" cried he fiercely.
"The first man that cometh a foot forward, or toucheth finger
to bowstring, dieth!"
At these words the Sheriff's men stood as still as stocks, for they
knew right well that Little John would be as good as his word,
and that to disobey him meant death. In vain the Sheriff roared at them,
calling them cowards, and urging them forward in a body; they would
not budge an inch, but stood and watched Little John as he moved
slowly away toward the forest, keeping his gaze fixed upon them.
But when the Sheriff saw his enemy thus slipping betwixt his fingers he
mad with his rage, so that his head swam and he knew not what he did.
Then of a sudden he turned his horse's head, and plunging his spurs
into its sides he gave a great shout, and, rising in his stirrups,
came down upon Little John like the wind. Then Little John raised
his deadly bow and drew the gray goose feather to his cheek.
But alas for him! For, ere he could loose the shaft, the good bow
that had served him so long, split in his hands, and the arrow fell
harmless at his feet. Seeing what had happened, the Sheriff's
men raised a shout, and, following their master, came rushing
down upon Little John. But the Sheriff was ahead of the others,
and so caught up with the yeoman before he reached the shelter
of the woodlands, then leaning forward he struck a mighty blow.
Little John ducked and the Sheriff's sword turned in his hand,
but the flat of the blade struck the other upon the head and smote
him down, stunned and senseless.
"Now, I am right glad," said the Sheriff, when the men came up
that Little John was not dead, "that I have not slain this man in my
I would rather lose five hundred pounds than have him die thus instead
of hanging, as such a vile thief should do. Go, get some water from
yonder fountain, William, and pour it over his head."
The man did as he was bidden, and presently Little John opened his eyes
and looked around him, all dazed and bewildered with the stun of the blow.
Then they tied his hands behind him, and lifting him up set him
upon the back of one of the horses, with his face to its tail
and his feet strapped beneath its belly. So they took him back
to the King's Head Inn, laughing and rejoicing as they went along.
But in the meantime the widow's three sons had gotten safely away,
and were hidden in the woodlands.
Once more the Sheriff of Nottingham sat within the King's Head Inn.
His heart rejoiced within him, for he had at last done that which
he had sought to do for years, taken Little John prisoner.
Quoth he to himself, "This time tomorrow the rogue shall hang upon
the gallows tree in front of the great gate of Nottingham Town,
and thus shall I make my long score with him even." So saying,
he took a deep draught of Canary. But it seemed as if the Sheriff
had swallowed a thought with his wine, for he shook his head
and put the cup down hastily. "Now," he muttered to himself,
"I would not for a thousand pounds have this fellow slip through
my fingers; yet, should his master escape that foul Guy of Gisbourne,
there is no knowing what he may do, for he is the cunningest knave
in all the world--this same Robin Hood. Belike I had better not wait
until tomorrow to hang the fellow." So saying, he pushed his chair
back hastily, and going forth from the inn called his men together.
Quoth he, "I will wait no longer for the hanging of this rogue, but
shall be done forthwith, and that from the very tree whence he saved
those three young villains by stepping betwixt them and the law.
So get ye ready straightway."
Then once more they sat Little John upon the horse, with his
face to the tail, and so, one leading the horse whereon he sat
and the others riding around him, they went forward to that tree
from the branches of which they had thought to hang the poachers.
On they went, rattling and jingling along the road till they came
to the tree. Here one of the men spake to the Sheriff of a sudden.
"Your Worship," cried he, "is not yon fellow coming along
us that same Guy of Gisbourne whom thou didst send into the forest
to seek Robin Hood?" At these words the Sheriff shaded his eyes
and looked eagerly. "Why, certes," quoth he, "yon fellow
the same. Now, Heaven send that he hath slain the master thief,
as we will presently slay the man!"
When Little John heard this speech he looked up, and straightway
his heart crumbled away within him, for not only were the man's
garments all covered with blood, but he wore Robin Hood's bugle
horn and carried his bow and broadsword.
"How now!" cried the Sheriff, when Robin Hood, in Guy of Gisbourne's
had come nigh to them. "What luck hath befallen thee in the forest?
Why, man, thy clothes are all over blood!"
"An thou likest not my clothes," said Robin in a harsh voice
like that of Guy of Gisbourne, "thou mayst shut thine eyes.
Marry, the blood upon me is that of the vilest outlaw that ever
trod the woodlands, and one whom I have slain this day,
albeit not without wound to myself."
Then out spake Little John, for the first time since he had
fallen into the Sheriff's hands. "O thou vile, bloody wretch!
I know thee, Guy of Gisbourne, for who is there that hath not heard
of thee and cursed thee for thy vile deeds of blood and rapine?
Is it by such a hand as thine that the gentlest heart that ever
beat is stilled in death? Truly, thou art a fit tool for this
coward Sheriff of Nottingham. Now I die joyfully, nor do I care
how I die, for life is nought to me!" So spake Little John,
the salt tears rolling down his brown cheeks.
But the Sheriff of Nottingham clapped his hands for joy.
"Now, Guy of Gisbourne," cried he, "if what thou tellest
me is true,
it will be the best day's doings for thee that ever thou hast
done in all thy life."
"What I have told thee is sooth, and I lie not," said Robin, still
Guy of Gisbourne's voice. "Look, is not this Robin Hood's sword,
and is not this his good bow of yew, and is not this his bugle horn?
Thinkest thou he would have given them to Guy of Gisbourne of his
own free will?"
Then the Sheriff laughed aloud for joy. "This is a good day!"
"The great outlaw dead and his right-hand man in my hands!
Ask what thou wilt of me, Guy of Gisbourne, and it is thine!"
"Then this I ask of thee," said Robin. "As I have slain the
master I would
now kill the man. Give this fellow's life into my hands, Sir Sheriff."
"Now thou art a fool!" cried the Sheriff. "Thou mightst have
money enough for a knight's ransom if thou hadst asked for it.
I like ill to let this fellow pass from my hands, but as I have promised,
thou shalt have him."
"I thank thee right heartily for thy gift," cried Robin. "Take
down from the horse, men, and lean him against yonder tree, while I show
you how we stick a porker whence I come!"
At these words some of the Sheriff's men shook their heads;
for, though they cared not a whit whether Little John were
hanged or not, they hated to see him butchered in cold blood.
But the Sheriff called to them in a loud voice, ordering them
to take the yeoman down from the horse and lean him against
the tree, as the other bade.
While they were doing this Robin Hood strung both his bow
and that of Guy of Gisbourne, albeit none of them took notice
of his doing so. Then, when Little John stood against the tree,
he drew Guy of Gisbourne's sharp, double-edged dagger.
"Fall back! fall back!" cried he. "Would ye crowd so on
my pleasure, ye unmannerly knaves? Back, I say! Farther yet!"
So they crowded back, as he ordered, many of them turning their
faces away, that they might not see what was about to happen.
"Come!" cried Little John. "Here is my breast. It is meet
the same hand that slew my dear master should butcher me also!
I know thee, Guy of Gisbourne!"
"Peace, Little John!" said Robin in a low voice. "Twice thou
hast said thou knowest me, and yet thou knowest me not at all.
Couldst thou not tell me beneath this wild beast's hide? Yonder, just in
front of thee, lie my bow and arrows, likewise my broadsword.
Take them when I cut thy bonds. Now! Get them quickly!"
So saying, he cut the bonds, and Little John, quick as a wink,
leaped forward and caught up the bow and arrows and the broadsword.
At the same time Robin Hood threw back the cowl of horse's hide
from his face and bent Guy of Gisbourne's bow, with a keen,
barbed arrow fitted to the string. "Stand back!" cried he sternly.
"The first man that toucheth finger to bowstring dieth!
I have slain thy man, Sheriff; take heed that it is not thy
turn next." Then, seeing that Little John had armed himself,
he clapped his bugle horn to his lips and blew three blasts
both loud and shrill.
Now when the Sheriff of Nottingham saw whose face it was
beneath Guy of Gisbourne's hood, and when he heard those bugle
notes ring in his ear, he felt as if his hour had come.
"Robin Hood!" roared he, and without another word he wheeled
his horse in the road and went off in a cloud of dust.
The Sheriff's men, seeing their master thus fleeing for his life,
thought that it was not their business to tarry longer, so,
clapping spurs to their horses, they also dashed away after him.
But though the Sheriff of Nottingham went fast, he could not
outstrip a clothyard arrow. Little John twanged his bowstring
with a shout, and when the Sheriff dashed in through the gates
of Nottingham Town at full speed, a gray goose shaft stuck out
behind him like a moulting sparrow with one feather in its tail.
For a month afterward the poor Sheriff could sit upon nought
but the softest cushions that could be gotten for him.
Thus the Sheriff and a score of men ran away from Robin Hood and Little
so that when Will Stutely and a dozen or more of stout yeomen burst
from out the covert, they saw nought of their master's enemies,
for the Sheriff and his men were scurrying away in the distance,
hidden within a cloud of dust like a little thunderstorm.
Then they all went back into the forest once more, where they found
the widow's three sons, who ran to Little John and kissed his hands.
But it would not do for them to roam the forest at large any more;
so they promised that, after they had gone and told their mother
of their escape, they would come that night to the greenwood tree,
and thenceforth become men of the band.
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Room | The
Merry Adventures of Robin Hood