I much wonder who he can be." Thus said Sir Richard in a
thoughtful voice.
For a time the Knight stood talking to those about him,
but at last he arose and made ready to depart, so he called
his men about him and, tightening the girths of his saddle,
he mounted his horse once more.
Meanwhile the young stranger had made his way through the crowd,
but, as he passed, he heard all around him such words muttered
as "Look at the cockerel!" "Behold how he plumeth himself!"
"I dare swear he cast good William unfairly!" "Yea, truly,
saw ye not birdlime upon his hands?" "It would be well to cut
his cock's comb!" To all this the stranger paid no heed,
but
strodeproudly about as though he heard it not.
So he walked slowly across the green to where the booth stood wherein
was dancing, and
standing at the door he looked in on the sport.
As he stood thus, a stone struck his arm of a sudden with a sharp
jar, and, turning, he saw that an angry crowd of men had followed
him from the wrestling ring. Then, when they saw him turn so,
a great hooting and yelling arose from all, so that the folk
came
running out from the dancing booth to see what was to do.
At last a tall, broad-shouldered, burly
blacksmithstrode forward
from the crowd swinging a
mighty blackthorn club in his hand.
"Wouldst thou come here to our fair town of Denby, thou Jack in
the Box, to
overcome a good honest lad with vile, juggling tricks?"
growled he in a deep voice like the
bellow of an angry bull.
"Take that, then!" And of a sudden he struck a blow at the youth
that might have felled an ox. But the other turned the blow
deftly aside, and gave back another so terrible that the Denby man
went down with a groan, as though he had been
smitten by lightning.
When they saw their leader fall, the crowd gave another angry shout;
but the stranger placed his back against the tent near which he stood,
swinging his terrible staff, and so fell had been the blow that he struck
the stout smith that none dared to come within the
measure of his cudgel,
so the press
crowded back, like a pack of dogs from a bear at bay.
But now some
coward hand from behind threw a sharp jagged stone that
smote the stranger on the crown, so that he staggered back, and the red
blood gushed from the cut and ran down his face and over his jerkin.
Then,
seeing him dazed with this vile blow, the crowd rushed upon him,
so that they overbore him and he fell beneath their feet.
Now it might have gone ill with the youth, even to the losing
of his young life, had not Sir Richard come to this fair;
for of a sudden, shouts were heard, and steel flashed in the air,
and blows were given with the flat of swords, while through the midst
of the crowd Sir Richard of the Lea came spurring on his white horse.
Then the crowd,
seeing the steel-clad
knight and the armed men,
melted away like snow on the warm
hearth, leaving the young man
all
bloody and dusty upon the ground.
Finding himself free, the youth arose and, wiping the blood
from his face, looked up. Quoth he, "Sir Richard of the Lea,
mayhap thou hast saved my life this day."
"Who art thou that knowest Sir Richard of the Lea so well?"
quoth the Knight. "Methinks I have seen thy face before, young man."
"Yea, thou hast," said the youth, "for men call me David of Doncaster."
"Ha!" said Sir Richard, "I wonder that I knew thee not, David;
but thy beard hath grown longer, and thou thyself art more
set in
manhood since this day twelvemonth. Come hither
into the tent, David, and wash the blood from thy face.
And thou, Ralph, bring him
straightway a clean jerkin.
Now I am
sorry for thee, yet I am right glad that I have had a chance to pay
a part of my debt of kindness to thy good master Robin Hood,
for it might have gone ill with thee had I not come, young man."
So
saying, the Knight led David into the tent, and there the youth washed
the blood from his face and put on the clean jerkin.
In the
meantime a
whisper had gone around from those that stood
nearest that this was none other than the great David of Doncaster,
the best wrestler in all the mid-country, who only last spring
had cast stout Adam o' Lincoln in the ring at Selby, in Yorkshire,
and now held the mid-country
champion belt, Thus it happened that
when young David came forth from the tent along with Sir Richard,
the blood all washed from his face, and his soiled jerkin changed
for a clean one, no sounds of anger were heard, but all pressed
forward to see the young man, feeling proud that one of the great
wrestlers of England should have entered the ring at Denby fair.
For thus
fickle is a mass of men.
Then Sir Richard called aloud, "Friends, this is David of Doncaster;
so think it no shame that your Denby man was cast by such a wrestler.
He beareth you no ill will for what hath passed, but let it be a warning
to you how ye treat strangers
henceforth. Had ye slain him it would
have been an ill day for you, for Robin Hood would have harried your
town as the kestrel harries the dovecote. I have bought the pipe
of wine from him, and now I give it
freely to you to drink as ye list.
But never hereafterward fall upon a man for being a stout
yeoman."
At this all shouted amain; but in truth they thought more of the wine
than of the Knight's words. Then Sir Richard, with David beside him
and his men-at-arms around, turned about and left the fair.
But in after days, when the men that saw that wrestling bout were bent
with age, they would shake their heads when they heard of any stalwart game,
and say, "Ay, ay; but thou shouldst have seen the great David of Doncaster
cast stout William of the Scar at Denby fair."
Robin Hood stood in the merry
greenwood with Little John and most
of his stout yeomen around him, awaiting Sir Richard's coming.
At last a glint of steel was seen through the brown forest leaves, and forth
from the
covert into the open rode Sir Richard at the head of his men.
He came straight forward to Robin Hood and leaping from off his horse,
clasped the
yeoman in his arms.
"Why, how now," said Robin, after a time,
holding Sir Richard off
and looking at him from top to toe, "
methinks thou art a gayer bird
than when I saw thee last."
"Yes, thanks to thee, Robin," said the Knight, laying his hand upon
the
yeoman's shoulder. "But for thee I would have been wandering in
misery in a far country by this time. But I have kept my word, Robin,
and have brought back the money that thou didst lend me, and which I
have doubled four times over again, and so become rich once more.
Along with this money I have brought a little gift to thee and thy
brave men from my dear lady and myself." Then, turning to his men,
he called aloud, "Bring forth the pack horses."
But Robin stopped him. "Nay, Sir Richard," said he, "think it not bold
of me to cross thy bidding, but we of Sherwood do no business till after
we have eaten and drunk." Whereupon,
taking Sir Richard by the hand,
he led him to the seat beneath the
greenwood tree, while others
of the chief men of the band came and seated themselves around.
Then quoth Robin, "How cometh it that I saw young David of Doncaster
with thee and thy men, Sir Knight?"
Then
straightway the Knight told all about his stay at Denby
and of the
happening at the fair, and how it was like to go
hard with young David; so he told his tale, and quoth he,
"It was this, good Robin, that kept me so late on the way,
otherwise I would have been here an hour agone."
Then, when he had done
speaking, Robin stretched out his hand
and grasped the Knight's palm. Quoth he in a trembling voice,
"I owe thee a debt I can never hope to repay, Sir Richard,
for let me tell thee, I would rather lose my right hand than have
such ill
befall young David of Doncaster as seemed like to come
upon him at Denby."
So they talked until after a while one came forward to say
that the feast was spread;
whereupon all arose and went thereto.
When at last it was done, the Knight called upon his men to bring
the pack horses forward, which they did according to his bidding.
Then one of the men brought the Knight a strongbox, which he opened
and took from it a bag and counted out five hundred pounds,
the sum he had
gotten from Robin.
"Sir Richard," quoth Robin, "thou wilt pleasure us all if thou wilt keep
that money as a gift from us of Sherwood. Is it not so, my lads?"
Then all shouted "Ay" with a
mighty voice.
"I thank you all deeply," said the Knight
earnestly, "but think it
not ill of me if I cannot take it. Gladly have I borrowed it from you,
but it may not be that I can take it as a gift."
Then Robin Hood said no more but gave the money to Little John to put away
in the treasury, for he had shrewdness enough to know that
nought breeds
ill will and heart
bitterness like gifts forced upon one that cannot choose
but take them.
Then Sir Richard had the packs laid upon the ground and opened,
whereupon a great shout went up that made the forest ring again, for lo,
there were tenscore bows of finest Spanish yew, all burnished till
they shone again, and each bow inlaid with fanciful figures in silver,
yet not inlaid so as to mar their strength. Beside these were tenscore
quivers of leather embroidered with golden thread, and in each
quiverwere a score of shafts with burnished heads that shone like silver;
each shaft was
feathered with peacock's plumes, innocked with silver.
Sir Richard gave to each
yeoman a bow and a
quiver of arrows, but to Robin
he gave a stout bow inlaid with the cunningest
workmanship in gold,
while each arrow in his
quiver was innocked with gold.
Then all shouted again for joy of the fair gift, and all swore
among themselves that they would die if need be for Sir Richard
and his lady.
At last the time came when Sir Richard must go,
whereupon Robin Hood
called his band around him, and each man of the yeomen took
a torch in his hand to light the way through the
woodlands.
So they came to the edge of Sherwood, and there the Knight kissed
Robin upon the cheeks and left him and was gone.
Thus Robin Hood helped a noble
knight out of his dire misfortunes,
that else would have smothered the happiness from his life.
Little John Turns Barefoot Friar
COLD WINTER had passed and spring had come. No leafy thickness
had yet clad the
woodlands, but the budding leaves hung like a
tender mist about the trees. In the open country the meadow
lands lay a sheeny green, the cornfields a dark velvety color,
for they were thick and soft with the growing blades.
The plowboy shouted in the sun, and in the
purple new-turned
furrows flocks of birds hunted for fat worms. All the broad
moist earth smiled in the warm light, and each little green
hill clapped its hand for joy.
On a deer's hide, stretched on the ground in the open in front of the
greenwood tree, sat Robin Hood basking in the sun like an old dog fox.
Leaning back with his hands clasped about his knees, he
lazily watched
Little John rolling a stout bowstring from long strands of hempen thread,
wetting the palms of his hands ever and anon, and rolling the cord upon
his thigh. Near by sat Allan a Dale
fitting a new string to his harp.
Quoth Robin at last, "Methinks I would rather roam this forest in
the gentle
springtime than be King of all merry England. What palace
in the broad world is as fair as this sweet
woodland just now,
and what king in all the world hath such
appetite for plover's
eggs and lampreys as I for juicy
venison and sparkling ale?
Gaffer Swanthold speaks truly when he saith, `Better a crust
with content than honey with a sour heart.' "
"Yea," quoth Little John, as he rubbed his new-made bowstring
with yellow beeswax, "the life we lead is the life for me.
Thou speakest of the
springtime, but
methinks even the winter
hath its own joys. Thou and I, good master, have had more than
one merry day, this winter past, at the Blue Boar. Dost thou
not remember that night thou and Will Stutely and Friar Tuck
and I passed at that same hostelry with the two beggars and
the strolling friar?"
"Yea," quoth merry Robin, laughing, "that was the night that
Will Stutely must needs
snatch a kiss from the stout hostess,
and got a canakin of ale emptied over his head for his pains."
"Truly, it was the same," said Little John, laughing also.
"Methinks that was a
goodly song that the strolling friar sang.
Friar Tuck, thou hast a quick ear for a tune, dost thou
not remember it?"
"I did have the catch of it one time," said Tuck. "Let me see,"