Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
PREFACE·
PART FIRST.
I. - Robin Hood and the Tinker.
II. - The Shooting-Match at Nottingham Town.
III. - Will Stutely rescued by his Good Companions.
PART SECOND.
I. - Robin Hood turns Butcher.
II. - Little John goes to the Fair at Nottingham Town.
III. - How Little John lived at the Sheriffs House.
PART THIRD.
I. - Little John and the Tanner of Blyth.
II. - Robin Hood and Will Scarlet.
III. - The Merry Adventure with Midge the Miller.
PART FOURTH.
I. - Robin Hood and Allan a Dale.
II. - Robin seeketh the Curtal Friar of the Fountain.
III. - Robin Hood compasseth the Marriage of Two True Lovers.
PART FIFTH.
I. - Robin Hood aideth a Sorrowful Knight.
II. - How Sir Richard of the Lea paid his Debts to Emmet.
PART SIXTH.
I. - Little John turns Barefoot Friar.
II. - Robin Hood turns Beggar.
PART SEVENTH.
I. - Robin and Three of his Merry Men shoot before Queen Eleanor in Finsbury Fields.
II. - The Chase of Robin Hood.
PART EIGHTH.
I. - Robin Hood and Guy of Gisbourne.
II. - King Richard cometh to Sherwood Forest.
AFTERWORD
SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
From the time he was a very small boy, Howard Pyle (1853-1911) loved pictures, especially the pictures in storybooks. At the age of twenty-one, Pyle began to contribute illustrations and fables to St. Nicholas magazine and later went on to write and illustrate books for children. His first successful title was The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood (1883). Many more books followed, including Pepper and Salt; or, Seasoning for Young Folk, Otto of the Silver Hand, Howard Pyle’s Book of Pirates, and The Story of King Arthur and His Knights. He also taught illustration at the Drexel Institute in Philadelphia and later set up his own art school in Wilmington, Delaware.
Stephen Knight is Distinguished Research Professor in English Literature at Cardiff University, Wales. Educated at the University of Oxford and the University of Sydney, he has written widely on medieval and modern literature, especially on the tradition of Robin Hood. His most recent book is Robin Hood: A Mythical Biography.
SIGNET CLASSICS
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,
Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2,
Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124,
Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park,
New Delhi - 110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), cnr Airborne and Rosedale Roads, Albany,
Auckland 1310, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue,
Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:
80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Published by Signet Classics, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Signet Classics Printing, January 1985
First Signet Classics Printing (Knight Afterword), September 2006
Afterword copyright © Stephen Knight, 2006
All rights reserved
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
eISBN : 978-1-101-12706-3
http://us.penguingroup.com
PREFACE·
From the Author to the Reader.
YOU who so plod amid serious things that you feel it shame to give yourself up even for a few short moments to mirth and joyousness in the land of Fancy; you who think that life hath nought to do with innocent laughter that can harm no one; these pages are not for you. Clap to the leaves and go no farther than this, for I tell you plainly that if you go farther you will be scandalized by seeing good, sober folks of real history so frisk and caper in gay colors and motley, that you would not know them but for the names tagged to them. Here is a stout, lusty fellow with a quick temper, yet none so ill for all that, who goes by the name of Henry II. Here is a fair, gentle lady before whom all the others 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 call my Lord Bishop of Hereford. Here is a certain fellow with a sour temper and a grim look—the worshipful, the Sheriff of Nottingham. And here, above all, is a great, tall, merry fellow that roams the greenwood and joins in homely sports, and sits beside the Sheriff at merry feast, which same beareth the name of the proudest of the Plantagenets—Richard of the Lion’s Heart. Beside these there are a whole host of knights, priests, nobles, burghers, yeomen, pages, ladies, lasses, landlords, beggars, pedlers, and what not, all living the merriest of merry lives, and all bound by nothing but a few odd strands of certain old ballads (snipped and clipped and tied together again in a score of knots) which draw these jocund fellows here and there, singing as they go.
Here you will find a hundred dull, sober, jogging places, all tricked out with flowers and what not, till no one would know them in their fanciful dress. And here is a country bearing a well-known name, wherein no chill mists press upon our spirits, and no rain falls but what rolls off our backs like April showers off the backs of sleek drakes; where flowers bloom forever and birds are always singing; where every fellow hath 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 Fairy-land. What is it? ‘Tis the land of Fancy, and is of that pleasant kind that, when you tire of it,—whisk!—you clap the leaves of this book together and ’tis gone, and you are ready for every-day 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.
PROLOGUE
Giving an account of Robin Hood and his adventure with the King’s foresters. Also telling how his Band gathered around him; and of the merry adventure that gained him his good right-hand man, the famous Little John.
IN merry England in the time of old, when good King Henry the Second ruled the land, there lived within the green glades of Sherwood Forest, near Nottingham Town, a famous outlaw whose name was Robin Hood. No archer ever lived that could speed a gray goose shaft with such skill and cunning as his, nor were there ever such yeomen as the sevenscore merry men that roamed with him through the greenwood shades. Right merrily they dwelt within the depths of Sherwood Forest, suffering neither care nor want, but passing the time in merry games of archery or bouts of cudgel play, living upon the King’s venison, washed down with draugh
ts of ale of October brewing.
Not only Robin himself but all the band were outlaws and dwelt apart from 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 went away again with an empty fist.
And now I will tell how it first came about that Robin Hood fell afoul of the law.
When Robin was a youth of eighteen, stout of sinew and bold of heart, the Sheriff of Nottingham proclaimed a shooting-match and offered a prize of a butt of ale to whomsoever should shoot the best shaft in Nottinghamshire. “Now,” quoth Robin, “will I go too, for fain would I draw a string for the bright eyes of my lass, and a butt of good October brewing.” So up he got and took his good stout yew bow and a score or more of broad clothyard arrows, and started off from Locksley Town through Sherwood Forest to Nottingham.
The Sheriff proclaimed a shooting-match, and Robin Hood goeth with his bow.
It was at the dawn of day in the merry May-time, when hedgerows are green and flowers bedeck the meadows; daisies pied and yellow cuckoo buds and fair primroses all along the briery hedges; when apple buds blossom and sweet birds sing, the lark at dawn of day, the throstle cock and cuckoo; when the lads and lasses look upon each other with sweet thoughts; when busy housewives spread their linen to bleach upon the bright green grass. Sweet was the greenwood as he walked along its paths, and bright the green and rustling leaves, amid which the little birds sang with might and main: and blithely Robin whistled as he trudged along, thinking of Maid Marian and her bright eyes, for at such times a youth’s thoughts are 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 came suddenly upon some foresters seated beneath a great oak tree. Fifteen there were in all, making themselves merry with feasting and drinking as they sat around a huge pasty, to which each man helped himself, thrusting his hands into the pie, and washing down that which they ate with great horns of ale which they drew all foaming from a barrel that stood nigh. Each man was clad in Lincoln green, and a fine show they made, seated upon the sword beneath that fair, spreading tree. Then one of them, with his mouth full, called out to Robin,—
He meeteth the
King’s foresters
in the greenwood.
“Hulloa, where goest thou, little lad, with thy one penny bow and thy farthing shafts?”
Then Robin grew angry, for no stripling likes to be taunted with his green years.
“Now,” quoth he, “my bow and eke mine arrows are as good as thine; and moreover, I go to the shooting-match at Nottingham Town, which same has been proclaimed by our good Sheriff of Nottinghamshire; there I will shoot with other stout yeomen, for a prize has been offered of a fine butt of ale.”
Then one who held a horn of ale in his hand, said, “Ho! listen to the lad! Why, boy, thy mother’s milk is yet scarce dry upon thy lips, and yet 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 hit the clout at threescore rods, by the good help of Our Lady fair.”
At this all laughed aloud, and one said, “Well boasted, thou fair infant, well boasted! and well thou knowest that no target is nigh to make 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 the glade’s end, I see a herd of deer, even more than threescore rods distant. I’ll hold you twenty marks that, by leave of Our Lady, I cause the best hart among them to die.”
“Now done!” cried he who had spoken first. “And here are twenty marks. I wager that thou causest no beast to die, with or without the aid of Our Lady.”
Then Robin took his good yew bow in his hand, and placing the tip at his instep, he strung it right deftly; then he nocked a broad clothyard arrow, and, raising the bow, drew the gray goose-feather to his ear; the next moment the bowstring rang and the arrow sped down the glade as a sparrowhawk skims in a northern wind. High leaped the noblest hart of all the herd, only to fall dead, reddening the green path with his heart’s blood.
Robin killeth a
hart of the herd.
“Ha!” cried Robin, “how likest thou that shot, good fellow? I wot the wager were mine, an it were three hundred pounds.”
Then all the foresters were filled with rage, and he who had spoken the first and had lost the wager was more angry than all.
“Nay,” cried he, “the wager is none of thine, and get thee gone, straightway, or, by all the saints of heaven, I’ll baste thy sides until thou wilt ne’er be able to walk again.”
“Knowest thou not,” said another, “that thou hast killed the King’s deer, and, by the laws of our gracious lord and sovereign, King Harry, thine ears should be shaven close to thy head?”
“Catch him!” cried a third.
“Nay,” said a fourth, “let him e’en go because of his tender years.”
Never a word said Robin Hood, but he looked at the foresters with a grim face; then, turning on his heel, strode away from them down the forest glade. But his heart was bitterly angry, for his blood was hot and youthful and prone to boil.
Now, well would it have been for him who had first spoken had he left Robin Hood alone; but his anger was hot, both because the youth had gotten the better of him and because of the deep draughts of ale that he had been quaffing. So, of a sudden, without any warning, he sprang to his feet, and seized upon his bow and fitted it to a shift. “Ay,” cried he, “and I’ll hurry thee anon;” and he sent the arrow whistling after Robin.
It was well for Robin Hood that the same forester’s head was spinning with ale, or else he would never have taken another step; as it was, the arrow whistled within three inches of his head. Then he turned around and quickly drew his own bow, and sent an arrow back in return.
A forester shooteth at Robin Hood, and is by Robin slain therefor.
“Ye said I was no archer,” cried he aloud, “but say so now again!”
The shaft flew straight; the archer fell forward with a cry, and lay on his face upon the ground, his arrows rattling about him from out of his quiver, the gray goose shaft wet with his heart’s blood. Then, before the others could gather their wits about them, Robin Hood was gone into the depths of the greenwood. Some started after him, but not with much heart, for each feared to suffer the death of his fellow; so presently they all came and lifted the dead man up and bore him away to Nottingham Town.
Meanwhile Robin Hood ran through the greenwood. Gone was all the joy and brightness from everything, for his heart was sick within him, and it was borne in upon his soul that he had slain a man.
“Alas!” cried he, “thou hast found me an archer that will make thy wife to wring! I would that thou hadst ne‘er said one word to me, or that I had never passed thy way, or e’en that my right forefinger had been stricken off ere that this had happened! In haste I smote, but grieve I sore at leisure!” And then, even in his trouble, he remembered the old saw that “What is done is done; and the egg cracked cannot be cured.”
For all this Robin Hood becometh an outlaw.
And so he came to dwell in the greenwood that was to be his home for many a year to come, never again to see the happy days with the lads and lasses of sweet Locksley Town; for he was outlawed, not only because he had killed a man, but also because he had poached upon the King’s deer, and two hundred pounds were set upon his head, as a reward for whoever would bring him to the court of the King.
Now the Sheriff of Nottingham swore that he himself would bring this knave, Robin Hood, to justice, and for two reasons: first, because he wanted the two hundred pounds, and next, because the forester that Robin Hood had killed was of kin to him.
But Robin Hood lay hidden in Sherwood Forest for one year, and in that time there gathered around him many others like himself, cas
t out from other folk for this cause and for that. Some had shot deer in hungry winter time, when they could get no other food, and had been seen in the act by the foresters, but had escaped, thus saving their ears; some had been turned out of their inheritance, that their farms might be added to the King’s lands in Sherwood Forest; some had been despoiled by a great baron or a rich abbot or a powerful esquire,—all, for one cause or another, had come to Sherwood to escape wrong and oppression.
So, in all that year, fivescore or more good stout yeomen gathered about Robin Hood, and chose him to be their leader and chief. Then they vowed that even as they themselves had been despoiled they would despoil their oppressors, whether baron, abbot, knight, or squire, and that from each they would take that which had been wrung from the poor by unjust taxes, or land rents, or in wrongful fines; but to the poor folk they would give a helping hand in need and trouble, and would return to them that which had been unjustly taken from them. Beside this, they swore never to harm a child nor to wrong a woman, be she maid, wife, or widow; so that, after a while, when the people began to find that no harm was meant to them, but that money or food came in time of want to many a poor family, they came to praise Robin and his merry men, and to tell many tales of him and of his doings in Sherwood Forest, for they felt him to be one of themselves.
Robin Hood, finding himself outlawed, doth gather a band about him.
Up rose Robin Hood one merry morn when all the birds were singing blithely among the leaves, and up rose all his merry men, each fellow washing his head and hands in the cold brown brook that leaped laughing from stone to stone. Then said Robin: “For fourteen days have we seen no sport, so now I will go abroad to seek adventures forthwith. But tarry ye, my merry men all, here in the greenwood; only see that ye mind well my call. Three blasts upon the bugle horn I will blow in my hour of need; then come quickly, for I shall want your aid.”