The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood | Page 2

band were outlaws and dwelled
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 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 whosoever 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.
It was at the dawn of day in the merry Maytime, 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 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 sward beneath that fair, spreading tree. Then one
of them, with his mouth full, called out to Robin, "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 shine;
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.
"Ha!" cried Robin, "how likest thou that shot, good fellow? I wot the
wager were mine, an it were three hundred pounds."
Then