The Geste has been included because it gives a lot of detail about Robin Hood and his activities and some of the events and places may tie in with recorded history, for example St. Marys Abbey in York was completed in 1055AD which is the year Siward the Earl of Huntingdon died and that is where he lies. From our history books we know that all the Norman sheriffs were in place by about 1078AD and one of the first things they did was to pillage the Saxon churches giving a possible date. In the Geste mention is made of King Edward who knew Robin Hood and six months before the Conquest King Edward was on the English throne, in fact it was he who converted Siward, and his son Waltheof to Christianity. Both these men were the Earls of Huntingdon in their turn and we know that Robin Hood was a devout man who liked to take communion, so perhaps when he was able he took the sacrament at a little church in Barnsdale, which was a place he loved. We know the Normans were ruthless and committed many atrocities so what would happen if one day Robin Hood went to take communion and when he got to the church he received news that a gang of marauders had stripped his favourite place of worship of all its possessions including the communion cup, they had killed the men who had tried to stop them and the final indignity was that before leaving they had raped the women who were worshiping there. We know that Robin Hood never harmed a woman holding them in high regard, so could this have been the start of the legend and the beginning of Robin Hood’s grievances against the Normans and the sheriffs in particular? If so, then let the legend begin.
Hark and listen gentlemen that are of freeborn blood, you shall hear tell of a good yeoman his name was Robin Hood. Robin was a proud outlaw while he walked upon the ground; so courteous an outlaw as he was never found. Robin stood in Barnesdale, and leaned him on a tree; and by him stood our Little John, a good yeoman was he. And also did good Scarlok, and Much, the miller’s son; there was none inch of his body that was worth a groom. Than spoke Little John unto Robin Hood: “Master, if ye would soon dine it would do you much good.” Than bespoke him good Robin: “to dine have I no desire, till that I have some bold baron, or some uncouth guest. That may pay for the best, or some knight or some squire that dwells here by west. A good manner then had Robin; in land where that he were, every day ere he would dine three masses would he hear. The one in the worship of the Father, and another of the Holy Ghost, the third of our dear Lady, That he loved all most of all. Robin loved Our dear Lady; For fear of deadly sin, would he never do company harm that any woman was in. “Master,” then said Little John, “And we our board shall spread, Tell us whither that we shall go, And what life that we shall lead.” Where we shall take, where we shall leave, where we shall abide behind; where we shall rob, where we shall steal, where we shall beat and bind. “Thereof no force,” then said Robin; “we shall do well enough; but look ye do no husbandman harm, that tilleth with his plough. No more ye shall no good yeoman that walketh by green wood, nor no knight nor no squire that will be a good fellow. “These bishops and these archbishops, ye shall them beat and bind; the high sheriff of Nottingham, Him hold ye in your mind.” “This word shall be hold,” said Little John, “And this lesson we shall learn; it is late in the day; God send us a guest, that we were at our dinner!” “Take thy good bow in thy hand,” said Robin; “Late Much wend with thee; and so shall William Scarlok, And no man abide with me.” “And walk up to the Sayles, And so to Watling Street, And wait after some uncouth guest Up chance ye may them meet. “Be he earl, or any baron, Abbot, or any knight, bring him to lodge to me; His dinner shall be prepared. “They went up to the Saylis These yeoman all three; they looked east, they looked west; they might no man see. But as they looked in to Barnesdale, by a secluded street, than came a knight riding full soon they did him meet. All-dreary was his semblance, and little was his pride; His one foot in the stirrup stood, that other waved beside. His hood hanged in his eyes; He rode in simple array; a sorrier man than he was one rode never in summer day. Little John was full courteous, and set him on his knee: “Welcome be ye, gentle knight, Welcome are ye to me.” “Welcome be thou to green wood, courteous knight and noble; my master hath espied you fasting, Sir, al these hours three.” “Who is thy master?” Said the knight John said, “Robin Hood;” “He is a good yeoman,” said the knight, of him I have heard much good. “I grant,” he said, “with you to wend, “my brethren, all together; my purpose was to have dined to day At Blith or Dancastere.” Forth then went this gentle knight, with a care-filled cheer; the tears out of his eyes ran, and fell down by his face. They brought him to the lodge-door; When Robin him did see, Full courteously did off his hood and set him on his knee. “Welcome, sir knight,” then said Robin, “Welcome art thou to me; I have espied you fasting, sir, All these hours three.” Than answered the gentle knight, with words fair and noble; “God thee save, good Robin, and all thy fair company. “They washed together and wiped both, and set to their dinner; Bread and wine they had right enough, and choice slices of the deer. Swans and pheasants they had full good, and fowls of the river; There failed none so little a bird that ever was bred on briar. “Do gladly, sir knight,” said Robin; “Thank you, sir,” said he;” such a dinner had I not of all these weeks three. “If I come again, Robin, Here by this country, as good a dinner I shall thee make as that thou hast made to me.” “Thank you, knight,” said Robin; “my dinner when that I it have, I was never so greedy, by dear worthy God, My dinner for to crave. “But pay ere ye wend,” said Robin; “me thinketh it is good right; It was never the manner, by dear worthy God, A yeoman to pay for a knight.” “I have nought in my coffers,” said the knight, “that I may proffer for shame:” “Little John, go look,” said Robin, “stop, delay not for no blame. “Tel me truth,” then said Robin, “So God have part of thee.” “I have no more but ten shillings,” said the knight, so God have part of me.” “If thou hast no more,” said Robin, “I will not one penny; and if thou have need of any more, more shall I lend thee. “Go now forth, Little John, The truth tell thou me; If there be no more but ten shillings, No penny that I see.” Little John spread down his mantel full fair upon the ground, and there he found in the knight’s coffer but even ten shillings. Little John let it lie full still, and went to his master full low “What tidings, John?” said Robin; “Sir, the knight is true enough. “Fill of the best wine,” said Robin, “the knight shall begin Much wonder thinketh me Thy clothing is so thin. “Tell me one word,” said Robin, kept secret shall it be; I suppose thou were a knight of force, Or else of yeomanry. “Or else thou hast been a sorry husbandman if lived in stroke and strife; an mocker, or else a lecher,” said Robin, with wrong hast led thy life.” “I am none of those,” said the knight, By God that made me; An hundred winter here before Mine ancestors knights have be. “But oft it hath befall, Robin, A man hath be disgraced; But God that sitteth in heaven above May amend his state. “Within this two years, Robin,” he said, “My neighbours well it know, Four hundred pound of good money Full well then might I spend. “Now have I no good,” said the knight, “God hath shaped such an end, but my children and my wife, Till God it may amend.” “In what manner,” then said Robin, “hast thou lost thy riches? “For My great folly,” he said, “and for my kindness.” I had a son, forsooth, Robin, That should have been mine heir, When he was twenty winter old, in field would joust fall fair. “He slew a knight of Lancaster, And a squire bold, for to save him in his right my goods he hath set and sold. “My lands he hath set to mortgage, Robin, until a certain day, to a rich abbot here beside Of Saint Mary Abbey.” “What is the sum?” said Robin; “Truth then tell thou me;” “Sir,” he said, “four hundred pound; the abbot told it to me.” “Now if thou lose thy land,” said Robin, “what will fall of the?” “Hastily I will me go,” said the knight, Over the salty see, “If see where Christ was quick if dead, on the mount of Calvary, Fare well, friend, if have good day; It may no better be.” Tears fell out of his eyen two He would have gone his way: “Farewell, friend, if have good day; I do not have no more to pay. “Where be thy friends?” said, Robin: “Sir, never one will me know; While I was rich enough at home Great boast then would they blow.” If now they run away from me, as beasts on a row; they take no more heed of me than they had me never saw.” For pity then wept Little John, Scarlok if Much together, “Fill of the best wine,” said Robin, “for here is a simple cheer. “Hast thou any friend,” said Robin “Thy guarantor that would be?” “I have none,” then said the knight, But God that died on tree.” “Do away thy japes,” then said Robin. “Thereof will I right none; Wenest thou I would have God to borrow, suppose; guarantor Peter, Paul, or John?” “Nay, by him that me made, If shaped both sun if moon,” “Find me a better borrow,” said Robin, “Or money getest thou none.” “I have none other,” said the knight, “the sooth for to say, But if it be Our dear Lady; She failed me never ere this day.” “By dear worthy God,” said Robin, “to seek all England through, yet found I never to my pay A much better borrow. “Come now forth, Little John, and go to my treasury, and counted me four hundred pound, and look well told it be.” Forth then went Little John, and Scarlok went before; He told out four hundred pound by eight and twenty score. “Is this well told?” said Little Much; John said, “what grieveth thee? It is alms to help a gentle knight that is fall in poverty. “Master,” then said Little John, “His clothing is full thin; Ye must give the knight a livery, To lap his body therein. “For ye have scarlet and green, master, and many a rich array; there is no merchant in merry England So rich, I dare well say.” “Take him three yards of every colour, and look well met that it be;” Little John took none other measure but his bow-tree. And at every handful that he met He leaped foots three; “What devil’s draper,” said little Much, “Thinkest thou for to be? “Scarlok stood full still and laugh, And said, “By God Almighty, John may give him good measure, for it costeth him but light.” “Master,” then said Little John To gentle Robin Hood, “ye must give the knight a horse, to lead home this good.” “Take him a grey courser,” said Robin, “and a saddle new; He is Our Lady’s messenger; God grant that he be true.” “And a good palfrey,” said little Much, “To maintain him in his right;” “And a pair of boots,” said Scarlock, “for he is a gentle knight.” “What shalt thou give him, Little John?” said Robin; “Sir, a pair of gilt spurs clean, to pray for all this company; God bring him out of pain. “When shall my day be,” said the knight, “Sir, and your will be?” “This day twelve month,” said Robin, “under this green tree. “It were great shame,” said Robin, “A knight alone to ride, without squire, yeoman, or page, to walk by his side. “I shall thee lend Little John, my man, for he shall be thy knave; in a yeoman’s stead he may thee stand, And thou great need have.”
THE SECOND FITTE
Now is the knight gone on his way; this game him thought full good; when he looked on Barnesdale He blessed Robin Hood. And when he thought on Barnesdale, On Scarlok, Much, and John, He blessed them for the best company that ever he in come. Then spoke that gentle knight. To Little John did he say, “To-morrow I must to York town, To Saint Mary abbey. “And to the abbot of that place Four hundred pound I must pay; and unless I be there upon this night my land is lost for ay. The abbot said to his convent, There he stood on ground, “this day twelve month came there a knight And borrowed four hundred pound. “He borrowed four hundred pound, upon all his land free; But he come this same day Disinherit shall he be.” “It is full early,” said the prior, “the day is not yet far gone; I had lever to pay an hundred pound, and lay down anon. “The knight is far beyond the sea, In England is his right, And suffreth hunger and cold, and many a sorry night. “It were great pity,” said the prior, “so to have his land; if ye be so light of your conscience, ye do to him much wrong.” “Thou art ever in my beard,” said the abbot, “By God and Saint Richard;” with that came in a fatheaded monk in charge of provisions. “He is dead or hanged,” said the monk, “By God that bought me dear, and we shall have to spend in this place Four hundred pound by year.” The abbot and the high cellarer start forth full bold; the high justice of England the abbot there did hold. The high justice and many more had taken in to their hand Wholly all the knight’s debt, to put that knight to wrong. They deemed the knight wonder sore, the abbot and his retinue:” But he come this same day Disinherit shall he be.” “He will not come yet,” said the justice, “I dare well undertake;” But in sorrow time for them all the knight came to the gate. Than bespoke that gentle knight until his followers: Now put on your simple weeds that ye brought from the sea. They put on their simple weeds, they came to the gates anon; the porter was ready himself, and welcomed them everyone. “Welcome, sir knight,” said the porter; “My lord to meat is he, and so is many a gentle man, for the love of thee.” The porter swore a full great oath, “By God that made me, Here be the best running horse That ever yet saw I me. “Lead them in to the stable,” he said, “That eased might they be;” “they shall not come therein,” said the knight, By God that died on a tree.” Lords were to meat y-set in that abbot’s hall; the knight went forth and kneeled and saluted them great and small. “Do gladly, sir abbot,” said the knight, “I am come to hold my day:” the first word the abbot spoke, “Hast thou brought my pay?” “Not one penny,” said the knight, “By God that cursed me;” “Thou art a shrewd debtor,” said the abbot;” Sir justice, drink to me. “What dost thou here,” said the abbot, “unless thou haddest brought thy pay?” For God,” then said the knight, “To pray of a longer day.” “Thy day is broke,” said the justice, “Land getest thou none:” “Now, good sir justice, be my friend and defend me of my foes! “I am hold with the abbot,” said the justice. “For grants of cloth as payment: “now, good sir sheriff, be my friend, “Nay, for God,” said he.” Now, good sir abbot, be my friend, for thy courtesy, and hold my lands in thy hand Till I have fulfilled the agreement! “And I will be thy true servant, and truly serve thee, till ye have four hundred pound of money good and free.” The abbot swore a full great oath, “By God that died on a tree, Get the land where thou may, for thou retest none of me.” “By dear worthy God,” then said the knight, “that all this world wrought, but I have my land again, Full dear it shall be bought. “God, that was of a maiden borne, Leave us well to speed! For it is good to assay a friend ere that a man have need.” The abbot loathly on him did look, and villainously him did call; “Out,” he said, “thou false knight, Speed thee out of my hall!” “Thou lyest,” then said the gentle knight, “Abbot, in thy hall; False knight was I never, By God that made us all.” Up then stood that gentle knight, to the abbot said he, “to suffer a knight to kneel so long, know not courtesy. “In jousts and in tournament full far then have I be, and put my self as far in press as any that ever I saw. “What will ye give more,” said the justice, “And the knight shall make a release? And else dare I safely swear ye hold never your land in peace.” “An hundred pound,” said the abbot; the justice said, “Give him two;” “Nay, be God,” said the knight, “yet get ye it not so. “Though ye would give a thousand more, yet were ye never the nearer; shall there never be mine heir Abbot, justice, nor friar. “He start him to a board anon, till a table round, And there he shook out of a bag even four hundred pound. “Have here thy gold, sir abbot,” said the knight, “which that thou lentest me; had thou been courteous at my coming, Rewarded shouldest thou have be.” The abbot sat still, and ate no more, for all his royal fare; He cast his heed on his shoulder, and fast began to stare. “Give me my gold again,” said the abbot,” Sir justice, that I took thee:” “Not a penny,” said the justice, “By God, that died on tree.” “Sir abbot, and ye men of law, Now have I hold my day; Now shall I have my land again, for ought that you can say.” The knight start out of the door, Away was all his care, and on he put his good clothing, the other he left there. He went him forth full merry singing, as men have told in tale; His lady met him at the gate, at home in Barnesdale. “Welcome, my lord,” said his lady; “Sir, lost is all your good?” “Be merry, dame,” said the knight, “and pray for Robin Hood, “That ever his soul; be in bliss He helped me out of pain; great had been his kindliness, Beggars had we been. “The abbot and I accorded been, He is served of his pay; the good yeoman lent it me, as I came by the way.” This knight then dwelled fair at home, the sooth for to say, till he had got four hundred pound, All ready for to pay. He prepared him an hundred bows, the strings well prepared, An hundred sheaves of arrows good, the heads burnished full bright, And every arrow 45 inches long, with peacock well prepared, all notched with white silver; it was a seemly sight. He prepared him an hundred men, well harnessed in that stead, And himself in that same suit, And clothed in white and red. He bare a launce gay in his hand, And a man led his packhorse, and rode with a light song Unto Barnesdale. But he went at a bridge there was a wrestling, and there tarried was he, and there was all the best yeomen of all the West Country. A full fair game there was set, a white bull was placed, a great courser, with saddle and bridle, with gold burnished full bright. A pair of gloves, a red gold ring, A pipe of wine, in faith; What man that bereth him best indeed the prize shall bear away. There was a yeoman in that place, and best worthy was he, and for he was far and set upon by strangers, Slain he should have be. The knight had ruth of this yeoman, in place where he stood; He said that yeoman should have no harm, for love of Robin Hood. The knight pressed in to the place, An hundred followed him free, with bows bent and arrows sharp, for to destroy that company. They shouldered all and made him room, to wit what he would say; He took the yeoman by the hand, and gave him all the play. He gave him five mark for his wine, There it lay on the ground, and bade it should be opened, Drink who so would. Thus long tarried this gentle knight, till that play was done; So long abode Robin fasting, Three hours after the noon.
THE THIRD FITTE
Harken and listen, gentleman all that now be here; Of Little John that was the knight’s man, Good mirth ye shall here. It was upon a merry day that young men would go shoot; Little John fetched his bow anon, And said he would them meet. Three times Little John shot about, and always he slit the wand; the proud sheriff of Nottingham By the mark did stand. The sheriff swore a full great oath: “by him that died on a tree, this man is the best archer that ever yet saw I me. “Say me now, strong young man, what is now thy name? In what country were thou born, And where is thy normal dwelling? “In Holderness, sir, I was born, indeed all of my dame; Men call me Reynolde Green When I am at home.” “Say me, ReynoIde Greenleaf, Would thou dwell with me? And every year I will thee give twenty mark to thy fee.” “I have a master,” said Little John, “A courteous knight is he; May ye leave get of him, the better may it be.” The sheriff got Little John Twelve months of the knight; Therefore he gave him right anon A good horse and strong. Now is Little John the sheriff’s man, God lends us well to speed! But always thought Little John To avenge himself well. “Now so God me help,” said Little John, And by my true loyalty, I shall be the worst servant to him that ever yet had he.” It fell upon a Wednesday the sheriff on hunting was gone, And Little John lay in his bed, and was forgot at home. Therefore he was fasting Till it was past the noon; “Good sir steward, I pray to thee, Give me my dinner,” said Little John. “It is long for Greenleaf Fasting thus for to be; Therefore I pray thee, sir steward, my dinner give me.” “Shalt thou never eat nor drink,” said the steward, “Till my lord be come to town:” “I make mine avow to God,” said Little John, “I would rather crack thy crown. “The butler was full uncourageous; there he stood on floor He start to the buttery and shut fast the door. Little John gave the butler such a tap His back went nearer in two; though he lived an hundred year, the worse should he go. He kicked the door with his foot; it went open well and fine; and there he made a generous provision, both of ale and of wine. “Since ye will not dine,” said Little John, “I shall give you to drink; and though ye live an hundred winter, On Little John ye shall think.” Little John ate, and Little John drank, the while that he would; the sheriff had in his kitchen a cook, A stout man and a bold. “I make mine avow to God,” said the cook, Thou art a cursed servant in any house for to dwell, for to ask thus to dine.” And there he lent Little John Good strokes three; “I make mine avow to God,” said Little John, “these strokes liked well me. “Thou art a bold man and hardy, and so thinketh me; and ere I pass from this place tested better shall thou be. “Little John drew a full good sword, The cook took another in hand; They thought no thing for to flee, But stiffly for to stand. There they fought sore together Twenty minutes and well more, might neither other harm do, the amount of an hour. “I make mine avow to God,” said Little John, And by my true loyalty, Thou art one of the best sword-men that ever yet saw I me. “Couldest thou shoot as well in a bow, to green wood thou shouldest with me, And two times in the year thy clothing Changed should be; “And every year of Robin Hood Twenty mark to thy fee:” “Put up thy sword,” said the cook, And fellows will we be.” Than he fetched to Little John the fillets of a doe, Good bread, and full good wine, they ate and drank thereto. And when they had drunken well, their troth together they plight that they would be with Robin That very same night. They did them to the treasure house, as fast as they might go; the locks, that were of full good steel, they broke them everyone. They took away the silver vessel, and all that they might get; precious, drinking cup, no spoons, would they not forget. Also they took the good pence, Three hundred pound and more, and did them straight to Robin Hood, under the green wood here. “God thee save, my dear master, And Christ thee save and see!” And then said Robin to Little John, “Welcome might thou be. “Also be that fair yeoman Thou bringest there with thee, what tidings from Nottingham? Little John, tell thou me.” “Well thee greeteth the proud sheriff, and sendeth thee here by me His cook and his silver vessel, and three hundred pound and three.” “I make mine avow to God,” said Robin, “And to the Trinity, It was never by his good will this good is come to me.” Little John there him bethought on a shrewd wile; five miles in the forest he ran, befell exactly as he wished. Than he met the proud sheriff, hunting with hounds and horn, Little John could of courtesy, and knew him before. “God thee save, my dear master, And Christ thee save and see!” “Reynolde Greenleaf,” said the sheriff, where hast thou now been? “I have be in this forest; A fair sight did I see; It was one of the fairest sights that ever yet saw I me. Yonder I saw a right fair hart, His colour is of green; Seven score of deer upon a herd be with him all together. “Their tines are so sharp, master, of sixty, and well more, That I durst not shoot for dread, lest they would me slay.” “I make mine avow to God,” said the sheriff, “That sight would I fain see:” “busk you thitherward, my dear master, anon, and go with me.” The sheriff rode, and Little John Of foot he was full smart, and when they came before Robin, “Lo, sir, here is the master-hart.” Still stood the proud sheriff, a sorry man was he; “may woe come to you, Reynolde Greenleaf, Thou hast betrayed now me.” “I make mine avow to God,” said Little John, “Master, ye be to blame; I was mis-served of my dinner when I was with you at home.” Soon he was to supper set, and served well with silver white, and when the sheriff saw his vessel, for sorrow he might not eat. “Make glad cheer,” said Robin Hood, “Sheriff, for charity, And for the love of Little John Thy life I grant to thee.” When they had supped well, the day was all gone; Robin commanded Little John To draw off his hose and his shoes; His tunic, and his coat of woollen cloth, That was furred well and fine, And took him a green mantel, To lap his body therein. Robin commanded his strong young men, Under the green tree, They should lie in that same suit, That the sheriff might them see. All night lay the proud sheriff in his breech and in his shirt; No wonder it was, in green wood, though his sides began to ache. “Make glad cheer,” said Robin Hood, “Sheriff, for charity; for this is our order indeed, under the greenwood tree.” “This is harder order,” said the sheriff, “Than any anchorite or friar; for all the gold in merry England I would not long dwell here.” “All this twelve months,” said Robin, “Thou shalt dwell with me; I shall thee teach, proud sheriff, an outlaw for to be.” “Ere I be here another night,” said the sheriff, “Robin, now pray I thee, Smite off mine head rather to-morrow, and I forgive it thee. “Let me go,” then said the sheriff, “for saint Charity, And I will be the best friend that ever yet had ye.” “Thou shalt swear me an oath,” said Robin, “on my bright brand; Shalt thou never intend me harm, by water nor by land. “And if thou find any of my men, by night or by day, upon thine oath thou shalt swear to help them that thou may.” Now hath the sheriff sworn his oath, and home he began to go; He was as full of green wood as ever was heap of stone.
THE FOURTH FITTE
The sheriff dwelled in Nottingham; He was happy he was agone; And Robin and his merry men went to wood anon. “Go we to dinner,” said Little John; Robin Hood said, “Nay; for I dread Our Lady is wroth with me, for she sent me not my pay.” “Have no doubt, master,” said Little John; “Yet is not the sun at rest; for I dare say, and safely swear, the knight is true and trusty.” “Take thy bow in thy hand,” said Robin, “Let Much wend with thee, and so shall William Scarlok, And no man abide with me. “And walk up under the Sayles, And to Watling-Street, And wait after some uncouth guest; Up chance ye may them meet. “Whether he be messenger, or a man that mirthes knows, of my good he shall have some, If he be a poor man.” Forth then start Little John, Half in grief and pain, and gird him with a full good sword, under a mantel of green. They went up to the Sayles, These yeomen all three; they looked east, they looked west, they might no man see. But as they looked in Barnesdale, by the high way, than were they ware of two black monks, each on a good palfrey. Then bespoke Little John, To Much he did say, “I dare lay my life as a pledge, that these monks have brought our pay. “Make glad cheer,” said Little John, “and grasp your bows of ewe, And look your hearts be sure and determined, your strings trusty and true. “The monk hath two and fifty men, And seven packhorses full strong; there rideth no bishop in this land so royally, I understand. “Brethren,” said Little John, “here ask no more but we three; but we bring them to dinner, our master dare we not see. “Bend your bows,” said Little John, “Make all yon press to stand; the foremost monk, his life and his death is closed in my hand. “Abide, churl monk,” said Little John, “No farther that thou go; If thou dost, by dear worthy God, Thy death is in my hand. “And evil thrift on thy heed,” said Little John, “Right under thy hat’s band; For thou hast made our master wroth, He is fasting so long.” “Who is your master?” said the monk; Little John said, “Robin Hood;” “He is a strong thief,” said the monk, of him heard I never good.” “Thou lyest,” then said Little John, “and that shall rue thee; He is a yeoman of the forest, to dine he hath asked thee. “Much was ready with an arrow, readily and anon; He set the monk to fore the breast, to the ground that he did go. Of two and fifty strong young yeomen there abode not one, save a little page and a groom, to lead the packhorses with Little John. They brought the monk to the lodge-door, whether he liked it or not, for to speak with Robin Hood, curses on their teeth. Robin did adown his hood, the monk when that he see; the monk was not so courteous, His hood then let he be. “He is a churl, master, by dear worthy God,” than said Little John: “Thereof no force,” said Robin, “for courtesy knows he none. “How many men,” said Robin, “Had this monk, John?” Fifty and two when that we met, but many of them be gone.” “Let blow a horn,” said Robin, “that fellowship may us know;” Seven score of strong yeomen Came pricking on a row. And everyone of them a good mantle of scarlet and striped cloth; all they came to good Robin, to wit what he would say. They made the monk to wash and wipe, and sit at his dinner, Robin Hood and Little John They served him both together. “Do gladly, monk,” said Robin. “Thank you, sir,” said he. “Where is your abbey, when ye are at home, and who is your avow?” “Saint Mary abbey,” said the monk, “Though I be simple here.” “In what office?” Said Robin: “Sir, the monk in charge of provisions. “Ye be the more welcome,” said Robin, “So as I ever prosper; Fill of the best wine,” said Robin, “this monk shall drink to me. “But I have great marvel,” said Robin, “of all this long day; I dread Our Lady be wroth with me, She sent me not my pay.” “Have no doubt, master,” said Little John, “Ye have no need, I say; This monk it hath brought, I dare well swear, For he is of her abbey.” “And she was a borrow,” said Robin, “between a knight and me, of a little money that I him lent, under the green tree. “And if thou hast that silver y-brought, I pray thee let me see; and I shall help thee eftsoons, if thou have need to me.” The monk swore a full great oath, with a sorry cheer, Of the borrow-hood thou speakest to me, Heard I never guarantee.” “I make mine avow to God,” said Robin, “Monk, thou art to blame; For God is hold a righteous man, And so is his mother. “Thou toldest with thine own tongue, Thou may not say nay, How thou art her servant, and servest her every day. “And thou art made her messenger, my money for to pay; Therefore I can the more thank Thou art come at thy day. “What is in your coffers?” said Robin, “True then tell thou me:” “Sir,” he said, “twenty marks, as l may prosper. “If there be no more,” said Robin, “I will not one penny; If thou hast need of any more, Sir, more I shall lend to thee. “And if I find more,” said Robin, “indeed thou shalt it forgo; for of thy spending-silver, monk, Thereof will I right none. “Go now forth, Little John, “And the truth tell thou me; If there be no more but twenty mark, No penny that I see.” Little John spread his mantle down, as he had done before, and he counted out of the monk’s baggage Eight hundred pound and more. Little John let it lie full still, and went to his master in haste; “Sir,” he said, “the monk is true enough; Our Lady hath doubled your cast.” “I make mine avow to God,” said Robin-”Monk, what told I thee? - - Our Lady is the truest woman that ever yet found I me. “By dear worthy God,” said Robin, “to seek all England through, yet found I never to my pay A much better guarantor. “Fill of the best wine, and do him drink,” said Robin, “And greet well thy lady courteous, And if she have need to Robin Hood, A friend she shall him find. “And if she needed any more silver, Come thou again to me, And, by this token she hath me sent, She shall have such three.” -The monk was going to London ward, there to hold great court, the knight that rode so high on horse, to bring him under foot. “Whether be ye away?” said Robin: “Sir, to manors in this land, to reckon with our estate managers, that have done much wrong.” “Come now forth, Little John, and hearken to my tale; A better yeomen I know none, to seek a monk’s baggage. “How much is in yonder other courser?” said Robin, “the sooth must we see: By Our Lady,” then said the monk, “that were no courtesy, “To bid a man to dinner, And sith him beat and bind.” “It is our old; manner,” said Robin, to leave but little behind.” The monk took the hors with spur, No longer would he abide: “Ask to drink,” then said Robin, “ere that ye further ride.” “Nay, for God,” then said the monk, “I am sorry I came so near; at a better price I might have dined in Blythe or in Doncaster.” “Greet well your abbot,” said Robin, “And your priory I you pray, and bid him send me such a monk to dinner every day.” Now let we that monk be still, And speak we of that knight: Yet he came to hold his day, while that it was light. He did him straight to Barnesdale, under the green tree, and he found there Robin Hood, and all his merry company. The knight light down of his good palfrey; Robin when he did see, So courteously he did adown his hood, And set him on his knee. “God thee save, Robin Hood, and all this company:” “Welcome be thou, gentle knight, and right welcome to me.” Than bespoke him Robin Hood, to that knight so free: “what need driveth thee to green wood? I pray thee, sir knight, tell me. “And welcome be thou, gentle knight, why hast thou be so long?” “For the abbot and the high justice would have had my land.” “Hast thou thy land again?” said Robin; “Truth then tell thou me:” “Yee, for God,” said the knight, “and that thank I God and thee. “But take not a grief,” said the knight, “that I have be so long; I came by a wrestling, And there I helped a poor yeoman, with wrong was put behind.” “Nay, for God,” said Robin, “Sir knight, that thank I thee; what man that helpeth a good yeoman, His friend then will I be.” “Have here four hundred pound,” then said the knight, “the which ye lent to me; and here is also twenty mark for your courtesy.” “Nay, for God,” then said Robin, “Thou enjoy for ever; For Our Lady, by her high cellarer, Hath sent to me my pay. “And if I took it twice, A shame it were to me; But truly, gentle knight, Welcome art thou to me.” When Robin had told his tale, He laughed and bade good cheer: “By my troth,” then said the knight, “your money is ready here.” “Brook it well,” said Robin, “Thou gentle knight so free And welcome be thou, gentle knight, under my meeting tree. “But what shall these bows do?” said Robin, and these arrows y-feathered free?” “By God,” then said the knight, “A poor present to thee.” “Come now forth, Little John, and go to my treasury, and bring me there four hundred pound; the monk counted it out. “Have here four hundred pound, Thou gentle knight and true, And buy horse and harness good, and gild thy spurs all new. “And if thou fail any spending, Come to Robin Hood, And by my truth thou shalt none fail, the whiles I have any good. “And brook well thy four hundred pound, which I lent to thee, and make thy self no more so bare, by the counsel of me.” Thus then helped him good Robin, The knight all of his care: God that sit in heaven high, Grant us well to fare!
THE FIFTH FITTE.
Now hath the knight his leave y-take, and went him on his way, Robin Hood, and his merry men Dwelled still full many a day. Harken and listen, gentle men, and hearken what I shall say, How the proud sheriff of Nottingham Did cry a full fair play; That all the best archers of the north should come upon a day, and he that shooteth best of all the game shall bear away. He that shooteth allther best, furthest fair, and low, at a pair of finely butts, under the green wood, A right good arrow he shall have, the shaft of silver white, the head and the feathers of rich red gold, In England is none like. This then heard good Robin, under his meeting-tree: “Make you ready, ye strong young men; that shooting will I see. “Prepare you, my merry young men, ye shall go with me; and I will know the sheriff’s faith, true if he be. “When they had their bows y-bent, their tackles feathered free, Seven score of strong young men Stood by Robin’s knee. When they came to Nottingham, The butts were fair and long; many was the bold archer that shooted with bow strong. “There shall but six shoot with me; the other shall guard my head, and stand with good bows bent, that I be not deceived.” The fourth outlaw his bow did bend, and that was Robin Hood, and that beheld the proud sheriff, all by the butt as he stood. Thrice Robin shot about, and always he slit the wand, and so did good Gylbert With the white hand. Little John and good Scarlock were archers good and free; Little Much and good Reynolde, The worst would they not be. When they had shot about, these archers fair and good, evermore was the best, for sooth, Robin Hood. Him was delivered the good arrow, for best worthy was he; He took the gift so courteously, to green wood would he. They cried out on Robin Hood, And great horns did they blow “Woe worth thee, treason!” said Robin, “Full evil thou art to know. “And woe be thou, thou proud sheriff, Thus gladding thy guest, other wise thou promised me in yonder wild forest. “But had I thee in green wood, under my trystell-tree, Thou shouldest leave me a better pledge than thy true loyalty.” Full many a bow there was bent, and arrows let they glide; Many a kirtell there was rent, and hurt many a side. The outlaws” shot was so strong that no man might them drive, and the proud sheriff’s men, they fled away very quickly. Robin saw the ambush break out, in green wood he would have been; many an arrow there was shot among that company. Little John was hurt full sore, with an arrow in his knee that he might neither neither go nor ride; It was full great pity. “Master,” then said Little John, “If ever thou lovedest me, and for that same lord’s love that died upon a tree, “And for the rewards of my service, that I have served thee, Let never the proud sheriff Alive now find me. “But take out thy brown sword, and smite all off my head, and give me wounds deep and wide; No life on me be left.” “I would not that,” said Robin, “John, that thou were slain, for all the gold in merry England, though it lay now on a row.” “God forbid,” said Little Much, “that died on a tree, that thou shouldest, Little John, Part our company.” Up he took him on his back, and bare him well a mile; many a time he laid him down, and shot another while. Then was there a fair castle, A little within the wood, Double-ditched it was about, and walled, by the cross. And there dwelled that gentle knight, Sir Richard at the Lee; That Robin had lent his good, under the greenwood tree. In he took good Robin, and all his company: “Welcome be thou, Robin Hood, Welcome art thou to me; “and much I thank thee of thy comfort, and of thy courtesy, and of thy great kindness, under the greenwood tree. “I love no man in all this world So much as I do thee; For all the proud sheriff of Nottingham, Right here shalt thou be. “Shut the gates, and draw the bridge, and let no man come in, And arm you well, and make you ready, And to the walls go win. “For one thing, Robin, I thee promise; I swear by Saint Quintine, These forty days thou dwell with me, to sup, eat, and dine.” Boards were laid, and clothes were spread, Readily and anon; Robin Hood and his merry men to meat did they go.
THE VI. FITTE.
Harken and listen, gentlemen, and hearken to your song How the proud sheriff of Nottingham, and men of arms strong, Full fast came to the High Sheriff, The country up to rout, and they beset the knight’s castle, the walls all about. The proud sheriff loud did cry, and said, “Thou traitor knight, Thou keenest here the king’s enemies, against the law and right.” “Sir, I will avow that I have done, the deeds that here be performed, upon all the lands that I have, as I am a true knight. “Wend forth, sirs, on your way, and do no more to me till ye wit our king’s will, what he will say to thee.” The sheriff thus had his answer, without any lie; forth he went to London town, all for to tell our king. There he told him of that knight, and also of Robin Hood, And also of the bold archers, that were so noble and good. “He will avow that he hath done, to maintain the outlaws strong; He will be lord, and set you at nought, in all the north land.” “I will be at Nottingham,” said our king, “within this fourteen night, and take I will Robin Hood, and so I will that knight. “Go now home, sheriff,” said our king, “and do as I bid thee; and ordain good archers enough, of all the wide country;” The sheriff had his leave I-take, and went him on his way, And Robin Hood to greenwood, upon a certain day. And Little John was whole of the arrow that shot was in his knee, and did him straight to Robin Hood, under the greenwood tree. Robin Hood walked in the forest, under the leaves green; the proud sheriff of Nottingham Thereof he had great sorrow. The sheriff there failed of Robin Hood; He might not have his prey, than he awaited this gentle knight, both by night and day. Ever he waited the gentle knight, Sir Richard at the Lee, as he went on hawking by the riverside, and let his hawks fly. Took he there this gentle knight, with men of arms stronger, And led him to Nottingham ward, Bound both foot and hand. The sheriff swore a full great oath, by him that died on rood; He would rather have an hundred pound that he had Robin Hood. This heard the knight’s wife, a fair lady, and a free; She set her on a good palfrey, to greenwood anon rode she. When she came in the forest, under the green-wood tree, Found she there Robin Hood, And al his fair company. “God thee save, good Robin, And all thy company; For Our dear Lady’s sake, A boon grant thou me. “Let never my wedded lord shamefully slain be; He is fast bound to Nottingham ward, for the love of thee.” Anon then said good Robin To that lady so free, “what man hath your lord I-take? “For sooth as I thee say; He is not yet three miles Passed on his way.” Up then start good Robin, as man that had been crazy: “prepare yourselves, my merry men, for him that died on rood. And he that this sorrow forsaketh, by him that died on tree, Shall he never in green-wood No longer dwell with me.” Soon there were good bows bent, More than seven score; Hedge ne ditch spared they none that was them before. “I make mine avow to God,” said Robin, “the sheriff would I fain see; and if I may him take, I-revenged shall it be. “And when they came to Nottingham, They walked in the street; and with the proud sheriff soon did they meet. “Abide, thou proud sheriff,” he said, “Abide, and speak with me; of some tidings of our king I would fain hear of thee. “This seven year, by dear worthy God, I went this fast on foot; I make mine avow to God, thou proud sheriff, It is not for thy good.” Robin bent a full good bow, an arrow he drew at will; He hit so the proud sheriff upon the ground he lay full still. And ere he might up arise, on his feet to stand, He smote off the sheriff’s head with his bright brand. “Lie thou there, thou proud sheriff, Evil may you achieve! There might no man to thee trust the whiles thou were a-live.” His men drew out their bright swords, that were so sharp and keen, and laid on the sheriff’s men, and drived them down quickly. Robin start to that knight, And cut in two his bond, And took him in his hand a bow, And bade him by him stand. “Leave thy horse thee behind, and learn for to run; Thou shalt with me to greenwood, through mire, moss, and fen. “Thou shalt with me to green-wood, without any lie, Till that I have got us grace Of Edward, our comely king.”
THE VII. FITTE
The king came to Nottingham, with knights in great array, for to take that gentle knight And Robin Hood, and if he may. He asked men of that country; After Robin Hood, And after that gentle knight, that was so bold and stout. When they had told him the case our king understood their tale, and seized in his hand the knight’s lands all. All the pass of Lancashire He went both far and near, till he came to Plomton Park; He lacked many of his deer. There our king was wont to see Herds many one, He could hardly find one deer that bore any good horn. The king was wonder wroth withal, and swore by the Trinity, “I would I had Robin Hood, with eyes I might him see. “And he that would smite off the knight’s head, and bring it to me, He shall have the knight’s lands, Sir Richard at the Lee. “I give it him with my charter, and seal it with my hand, to have and hold for ever more, in all merry England.” Than bespoke a fair old knight that was true in his faith: “A, my liege lord the king, one word I shall you say. “There is no man in this country; May have the knight’s lands, While Robin Hood may ride or go, And bear a bow in his hands, “That he shall not lose his head that is the best ball in his hood: Give it no man, my lord the king, to whom you wish any good. “Half a year dwelled our comely king In Nottingham, and well more; could he not hear of Robin Hood, in what country that he were. But always went good Robin By hill recess and hiding place, and always slew the king’s deer, and wielded them at his will. Than bespoke a proud forester, that stood by our king’s knee: “If ye will see good Robin, Ye must do as I advice. “Take five of the best knights that be in your company, and walk down by yon abbey, and get you monk’s weed. “And I will be your lead-man, and lead you the way, And ere ye come to Nottingham, Mine head then dare I lay, “That ye shall meet with good Robin, on life if that he be; ere ye come to Nottingham, with eyen ye shall him see.” Full hastily our king was prepared, so were his knights five, every one of them in monk’s weed, And hasted them thither quickly. Our king was great above his cowl, a broad hat on his crown, Right as he were abbot-like; they rode up in-to the town. Stiff boots our king had on, Forsooth as I you say; He rode singing to a group of monks; the convent was clothed in grey. His large packhorse followed our king behind, till they came to greenwood, a mile under the forest. There they met with good Robin, Standing on the way, and so did many a bold archer, for sooth as I you say. Robin took the king’s horse, Hastily in that stead, and said, “Sir abbot, by your leave, A while ye must abide. “We be yeomen of this forest, under the greenwood tree; we live by our king’s deer, other shift have not we. “And ye have churches and rents both, and gold full great plenty; give us some of your spending, For Saint Charity.” Than bespoke our comely king, Anon then said he; “I brought no more to greenwood But forty pound with me. “I have lain at Nottingham This fortnight with our king, and spent I have full much good, on many a great lording. “And I have but forty pound, No more than have I me; But if I had an hundred pound, I would grant it to thee. “Robin took the forty-pound, and divided it in half; half he gave his merry men, and bade them merry to be. Full courteously Robin did say “Sir, have this for your spending; we shall mete another day;” “Gramercy,” then said our king. “But well thee greeteth Edward, our king, and sends to thee his seal, and biddeth thee come to Nottingham, Both to meat and meal.” He took out the broad target, and soon he let him see; Robin knew his courtesy, and set him on his knee. “I love no man in all the world so well as I do my king; Welcome is my lord’s seal; and, monk, for thy tiding, “Sir abbot, for thy tidings, to day thou shalt dine with me, for the love of my king, under my meeting tree. “Forth he lad our comely king, Full fair by the hand; many a deer there was slain, And full fast being killed. Robin took a full great horn, and loud he did blow; Seven score of strong young men came ready on a row. All they keeled on their knee, Full fair before Robin: The king said him self until, and swore by Saint Austin, “Here is a wonder seemly sight; me thinketh, by God’s pain, His men are more at his bidding then my men be at mine.” Full hastily was their dinner prepared, and thereto did they go; they served our king with all their might, Both Robin and Little John. Anon before our king was set The fat venison, The good white bread, the good red wine, And thereto the fine ale and brown. “Make good cheer,” said Robin, “Abbot, for charity; And for this like tiding, blessed may thou be. “Now shalt thou see what life we lead, or thou hence wend; Then thou may inform our king, When ye together meet. “Up they start all in hast, their bows were smartly bent; our king was never so sore aghast, He weened to have been destroyed. Two yards there were up set, Thereto did they go; by fifty paces, our king said, the marks were too long. On every side a rose-garland, They shot under the trees: “Who so faileth of the rose-garland,” said Robin, His tackle he shall lose, “And yield it to his master, Be it never so fine; For no man will I spare, So drink I ale or wine: “And here a buffet on his head, indeed right all bare:” and all that fell in Robin’s lot, He smote them wonder sore. Twice Robin shot about, and ever he cleaved the wand, and so did good Gylberte With the White hand. Little John and good Scarlocke, for nothing would they spare; When they failed of the garland, Robin smote them full sore. At the last shot that Robin shot, for all his friend’s fare, yet he failed of the garland three fingers and more. Than bespoke good Gylberte, and thus he did say; “Master,” he said, “your tackle is lost, Stand forth and take your pay.” “If it be so,” said Robin, “that may no better be, Sir abbot, I deliver thee mine arrow, I pray thee, sir, serve thou me.” “It falleth not for mine order,” said our king, “Robin, by thy leave, For to smite no good yeoman, for doubt I should him grieve.” “Smite on boldly,” said Robin, “I give the large leave:” Anon our king, with that word, He folded up his sleeve, And such a buffet he gave Robin, to ground he went full near: “I make mine avow to God,” said Robin, “Thou art a stalwart friar. “There is pith in thine arm,” said Robin, “I trowe thou canst well shoot:” Thus our king and Robin Hood Together did they meet. Robin beheld our comely king carefully in the face, so did Sir Richard at the Lee, and kneeled down in that place. And so did all the wild outlaws, when they see them kneel: “My lord the king of England, now I know you well.” “Mercy then, Robin,” said our king, “Under your meeting tree, of thy goodness and thy grace, for my men and me!” “Yes, for God,” said Robin, “and as God me save, I ask, mercy, my lord the king, and for my men I crave.” “Yes, for God,” then said our king, “And thereto sent I me, providing that thou leave the green-wood, and all thy company; “And come home, sir, to my court, and there dwell with me.” “I make mine avow to God,” said Robin, “And right so shall it be. “I will come to your court, your service for to see, and bring with me of my men Seven score and three. “Unless I like well your service, I will come again full soon, and shot at the dun deer, as I am wont to do.”
THE VIII. FITTE.
Hast thou any green cloth,” said our king, “That thou wilt sell now to me?” “Ye, for God,” said Robin, “Thirty yards and three.” “Robin,” said our king, “Now pray I thee, Sell me some of that cloth, to me and my company. “Yes, for God,” then said Robin, “Or else I were a fool; another day ye will me clothe, I trowel, against the Yule.” The king cast of his cowl then, A green garment he did on, and every knight also, indeed, another had full soon. When they were clothed in Lincoln green, they cast away their grey; “Now we shall to Nottingham,” All thus our king did say. They bent their bows, and forth they went, shooting all together, toward the town of Nottingham, Outlaws as they were. Our king and Robin rode together, for sooth as I you say, and they shot pluck-buffet as they went by the way. (Game of trading blows)And many a buffet our king won Of Robin Hood that day, and nothing spared good Robin Our king in his pay. “So God me help,” said our king, “Thy game is nought to learn; I should not get a shot of thee, though I shot all this year.” All the people of Nottingham They stood and beheld; they saw nothing but mantels of green that covered all the field. Than every man to other did say, “I dread our king be slain; Come Robin Hood to the town, indeed, on life he left never one. Full hastily they began to flee, both yeomen and knaves, and old wives that might evil go, They moved with difficulty on their staves. The king laughed full fast, and commanded them again; when they see our comely king, indeed they were so happy. They ate and drank, and made them glad, and sang with notes high, than bespoke our comely king To Sir Richard at the Lee. He gave him there his land again, A good man he bade him be; Robin thanked our comely king, and set him on his knee. Had Robin dwelled in the king’s court But twelve months and three, That he had spent an hundred pound, And all his men’s fee. In every place where Robin came ever more money he paid out, both for knights and for squires, to get him great renown. By then the year was all agone He had no man but twain, Little John and good Scarlocke, with him all for to go. Robin saw young men shoot Full fair upon a day; “Alas!” then said good Robin, “My wealth is went away. “Sometime I was an archer good, a stiff and eek a strong; I was counted the best archer that was in merry England. “Alas!” then said good Robin, “Alas and well a woo! If I dwell longer with the king, Sorrow will me slay.” Forth then went Robin Hood Till he came to our king; “my lord the king of England, Grant me mine asking. “I made a chapel in Barnesdale, That seemly is to see, It is of Mary Magdeleyne, And thereto would I be. “I might never in this seven night No time to sleep nor wink, Neither all these seven days, Neither ate nor drink. “Me longeth sore to Barnesdale, I may not be therefro; Barefoot and clothed in coarse wool I have promised thither for to go.” “If it be so,” then said our king, “It may no better be, Seven night I give the leave, No longer, to dwell fro me.” “Gramercy, lord,” then said Robin, and set him on his knee; He took his leave full courteously, to greenwood then went he. When he came to greenwood, in a merry morning, there he heard the notes small of bird’s merry singing. “It is far gone,” said Robin, “That I was last here; it would please me a little for to shoot at the dun deer.” Robin slew a full great hart His horn then did he blow, that all the outlaws of that forest that horn could they know, And gathered them together, in a short time, seven score of strong young men came ready in a row. “Welcome,” they said, “our master dear, under this green-wood tree,” and there it was that Robin made his home.
Then Robin Hood and little John went over yon bank of broom, said Robin Hood to Little John we shot for many a pound. But now I cannot shoot at all my arrows will not flee, my cousin lives down below, and please to God she will bleed me. Tomorrow I to Kirklees go to skilfully have blood let. I cannot drink or eat my meat for it makes me most unwell, till I have been to merry Church Lees my vein for blood to let. Then said Will Scarlet “I won’t let you go, for bad Red Roger lives close to the route, he loves so to fight he won’t let you pass, without a good guard a challenge he’ll make. To gain my consent, fifty bowmen take, for you my good friend my love knows no end. “Said Robin to Will, “And thou be off home, young Scarlett I say, I wish thee be off. “As soon as he heard what Robin Hood said, William Scarlett for home he did head, “if thou be so angry my master dear, then not one thing more shall you from me hear.” Farewell my good friend said Robin to Scarlet, Little John I say true together we go, with you by my side for to bear my bent bow, cantering together to Kirklees we go.” Yet Robin said John, “You bear your own bow, and shoot an arrow, before we both go.” Said Robin to John, “To that I assent.” Riding together, to Kirklees they went. And on the way, as Scarlett feared, bad Red Roger, he did appear. His sword he thrust, poor Robin’s side, “twas wounded deep, how could he ride. Robin now was nimble of yore, his pride he sought now to restore, He struck a blow with all his might, it hit Red Roger on neck right. And there upon the ground it lay, Red Roger’s head, “twas such a sight, lie there, you rogue you lump of meat, for food the birds and dogs to eat. He said a prayer for Roger Red, and then to Little John he said, I trust to God in heav'n so high, I feel so weak that I may die. Give me the sacraments with your hand, my sacraments so I won’t be dammed, so feeling very feeble and ill, they went as fast as Robin could go. To Kirklees Priory Robin’s near gone, in the saddle sat down very low, the two bold men they both rode in rank, until they came to deep water black. And over brook was laid a plank, upon it kneeled a woman old, and she was cursing Robin bold. Why do you curse bold Robin Hood half a page missing. Continues: - Then on they go together the pair, and happen across two ladies fair, who wait to warn him of danger there, and weeping sadly relate their woe. Friend Robin true has a deadly foe, his weakened body is near its end, his blood to let by relative near, but would she be a relative dear? Said Robin its true but do not fear, for close relatives we are and near, the dame prioress my cousin she is, this day no harm will she do to me. She wouldn’t harm me the world to win, So hurrying forth they quickly went, and never did stop till there in sight, came merry Churchlees, merry Churchlee. Sir Roger of Doncaster, by the wicked prioress lay, and there they betrayed Robin, with their dastardly false play. With bad, foul, and evil thoughts, plots the prioress of Kirklees, who for love of a black knight, betrayed Robin “twas not right. Together for their false love, full evil must now be done, for good Robin how to slay, plotting in bed where they lay. And when they came to merry Church Lees, they knocked upon the ring one two three, none was so ready as his cousin, she rose herself Robin to let in. Now will you sit please cousin dear, this day and drink some beer with me? No, I will not I promise you, till my blood you have letted be. Then Robin gave to dame prioress, full twenty pounds in gold no less. He bade her spend upon herself, when that was gone she would have more. I have a room cousin Robin she said, which you before this day did never see, and if it pleases you to walk therein, then on this day your blood shall letted be. And down she came the dame prioress, and in her hands all wrapped in silk, a pair of blood irons she did hold, with which to do her dirty work. Her hand it was so lily-white, She led him to a private room, She laid the blood-irons on his vein, and pressing hard she pierced it through. She saw the blood so bright so red, she left the room and locked the door, The blood it flowed so bright and red, the blood it flowed so thick and fast. At first it flowed the thick, thick blood, and then the blood began to thin, it bled all day and through the night, till noon next day, it was not right. Good Robin Hood he felt so weak, and in his heart he knew the worst, what could he do to help himself, the ill within it was so deep. Then he beheld a casement door, but weak he was he could not leap, if down then up he could not rise, so death was the unwanted prize. He then thought of his bugle horn, which to his knee was hung down low; he set his horn unto his mouth, and blew three times the sound was poor. The notes were weak but Little John, beneath a tree had heard the song, he rushed towards the sound I fear, my master Robin’s end is near. Little John to Kirklees has gone, running, his master to be near, when he to Kirkley-Hall arrived, his master for to see alive. He broke the locks one two or three, his master thinking to set free, when Robin he himself did find, upon his knees he sadly fell. Good friend he cried good friend, I beg thee master mine, what is that my good friend, quoth Robin Hood to him. What do you beg of me, It is cried Little John, to burn the Kirkley-Hall, and all their nunnery. I never hurt a maid, in all my life so fair, nor at my end will I, they are a treasure rare. Put bow within my hand, an arrow I’ll let flee, where ere my arrow falls, then there my grave shall be. Lay me a green sod under my head another at my feet, my best bow beside me place for truly t’was my music sweet, and make my grave of gravel and green which is most right and meet, give me length and breadth to lie so they will say when I am dead,
HERE LIES BOLD ROBIN HOOD MY FRIEND HERE LIES BOLD ROBIN HOOD
These words they readily granted him, which did bold Robin please, and there they buried bold Robin Hood, near to the fair Kirkleys. Upon his grave was laid a stone, Stating that he died long ago, his deeds they were so true and just, time never can his actions hide. He lifted neither bow nor spear, his murder was by letting blood, so loving friends the story ends, of valiant hero bold and good. Our friends his name was Robin Hood, His epitaph is all we have, as on his grave it firm was set, and you can read it on this day. Like it was now so long ago, the “Robert Earl of Huntingdon, lies underneath this little stone, No archer was like him so good. His wildness named him Robin Hood, full thirteen years and something more, these northern parts he vexed so sore, such out-laws and his merry men. Tis England’s very sad lament, That him they’ll never know again, He died this way it is a shame, have mercy on his soul dear Christ.”Hey down a derry derry down.”
Based on “Robin Hood’s Death” by Child.
KINGS CALLED EDWARD
EDWARD THE CONFESSOR 1042 to 1066
The Confessor had an unfortunate childhood and the lesson he learnt from it was that ambition was folly that would ultimately end in disaster. He grew up delighting in assisting at Mass and in the church generally but at the same time he enjoyed the pleasures of the chase and archery that were suited to his station. He was called by acclamation to the throne at the age of about forty, being welcomed even by the Danish settlers owing to his gentle saintly character although not by the formidable group of Anglo-Danish warriors and statesmen who accepted Edward as king only by popular choice and right of birth. They had no affection at all for the dynasty to which he belonged.
When Edward was first elected King he must have felt very vulnerable and isolated due to the fact that there was no one at court on whom he could count on for support as was usually the case. Newly elected kings were usually able to rely on the support of their courtiers who were interested in the well being of the Royal Family and were prepared to give faithful service to the new King, often because it was in their own interest. But in Edward’s case apart from a few undistinguished thegns and one or two aging bishops there was no one at Edward’s earliest courts who had any loyalty towards him. Having said that you would expect him to surround himself with Norman favourites and that charge has been levied against him, but that does not appear to have happened, apparently close scrutiny of his charters show that only two of the foreigners at his court were of first importance as English landowners and neither was of Norman extraction. The information that can be extracted from the Doomsday book and other sources gives no ground for the charge that Edward had been endowing his foreign friends lavishly with English lands. (Professor Sir Frank Stenton)
Edward the Confessor was well known to the Earl of Northumbria, and it was with Siward that together they led the English land army against Mcbeth. Siward’s son was Waltheof, who many people believe was the father of Robert of Loxley, both men being at different times the earls of Huntingdon and had connections with Loxley which many believe is the birthplace of Robin Hood. Edward the Confessor was a good king, he was gentle, rosy faced, with white hair and a beard. He was a most fatherly looking figure of a man and he looked after his subjects as though they were his children. He is called the “Confessor” which in Old English is a religious term and it is a rank in the progression towards sainthood. It designates a person who was persecuted for his faith but not martyred. He was a man of strong religious belief, and one of his chief delights was in building churches. The most beautiful of these was the famous Westminster Abbey. He was also spoken of as being “comely” which means beautiful, lovely, or splendid and in this sense it refers to his kindly nature and that is how people regarded him. His subjects respected him, they looked up to him, and they loved him. They would travel miles to touch his hand believing that a single touch from him would heal them. Edward was loved for his gentleness and piety and his people regarded him as a saint long before he was canonised in 1161. The beauty he possessed was not a physical beauty but it referred to an aesthetic or philosophical and spiritual beauty and Edward was an outstanding saintly man. As Socrates said, “I pray thee, O God, that I may be beautiful within.”
His reign was one of almost unbroken peace and he often settled difficult situations without bloodshed but by gentleness and prudence. Being devoid of personal ambition, Edward‘s one aim was the welfare of his people. He remitted the odious “Danegelt,” which had needlessly continued to be levied; and he was profuse in giving alms to the poor. He made his own royal patrimony suffice without imposing taxes and such was the contentment caused by “the good St. Edward‘s laws,” that their enactment was repeatedly demanded by later generations when they felt themselves oppressed. After the terrible happenings of the Norman Conquest life under the Confessor must have seemed very good. As a result of the Confessor’s reign, the average English person saw a reduction in taxes, they saw peace and prosperity, they were happy, and they loved their king. Edward reigned from 1042 to 1066.
And coming to the Confessor who the people loved dearly and flocked to him believing a touch from his hand would cure them of scrofula, the custom continued and Edward I in one year blessed over 1,700 men but the highest annual figure for Edward II is 214, demonstrating how his subjects must have felt about him.
Edward I (ruled 1272 to 1307).
He was a fine looking man, with fair hair and ruddy cheeks. He was so tall that he was nicknamed “Longshanks” but he was well knit and athletic. He delighted in tournaments and his bravery and presence of mind were well demonstrated in the Holy Land when an assassin tried to stab him with a poisoned dagger. He prided himself on his truthfulness and adopted as his motto “keep faith.” His reign is particularly noted for administrative efficiency and legal reform.
To raise cash for government and for the army in 1295 Edward called the “Model Parliament” which represented nobles, church and commoners and this foreshadowed representative government and decreed that the king needed Parliament’s approval to make laws or raise non-feudal taxes. Having said that he was arrogant, lawless, violent, treacherous, revengeful, and cruel; his Angevin rages matched those of Henry II.
For a time Edward I was closely associated with Earl Simon de Montfort, the popular leader of the national party. Later he opposed Simon and defeated him in the battle of Evesham (1265) in which the great earl was slain on August 4. Edward’s arrogant lawlessness and his extreme policy of vengeance especially against the Londoners increased Edward’s unpopularity among the English. Five years later in 1270 he went on a Crusade to the Holy Land. He established English control (1277-83) over Wales and destroyed its autonomy by killing Welsh princes and subdued the people by building nine new castles. On 7th February 1301 he created the title Prince of Wales for his only living newborn son who was born at Caernarfon Castle, pointing out (because the Welsh didn’t want an English speaker) that he “spoke no English.”
In 1286 Edward paid homage to the French King Philip “for all the lands which I ought to hold” in France, an ambiguous oath. On returning to England in 1289 he had to dismiss many judges and officials for corruption and oppression during his absence. In 1290, having systematically stripped the Jews of their remaining wealth, he expelled them from England. After 1294, matters deteriorated further. Queen Eleanor had died in 1290 and Burnell in 1292, and Edward never thereafter found such good advisers. As long as Burnell and Queen Eleanor lived, the better side of Edward triumphed, thereafter, his character deteriorated for lack of domestic comfort and independent advice. He allowed his autocratic temper full rein and devoted his failing energies to prosecution of the wars in France and against Scotland.
Edward invaded and conquered Scotland (1296), removing to Westminster the coronation stone of Scone. Wallace led a revolt in 1297, and Edward, though brilliantly victorious at Falkirk (July 22, 129 , could not subdue the rebellion despite prolonged campaigning (1298-1303).
Edward renewed the conquest of Scotland in 1303, captured Stirling in 1304, and executed Wallace as a traitor in 1305; but when Scotland seemed finally subjected, Robert I the Bruce revived rebellion and was crowned in 1306. On his way to re-conquer Scotland, Edward died near Carlisle. For more than 100 years there had been amicable relations between England and Scotland and peace had reigned on the borders for all that time, the result was that Edward inaugurated 250 years of bitter hatred, savage warfare, and bloody border forays. Thus ends the life of the King we call the Hammer of the Scots.
Edward II (ruled 1307-1327).
“Edward II was one of the most unsuccessful kings ever to rule England.” He was the unworthy son of Edward I, his only saving grace was that he did not have his fathers stammer. Mentally and morally he was a weakling, he was lazy and incompetent and liable to outbursts of temper over unimportant issues, yet indecisive when it came to major problems. In spite of his fathers training he had no ability for business and with such a man on the throne it is easy to see why the reign was one of disaster and disorder. His people held him in little respect and it is hardly surprising that there were rumours that he was a changeling and not the real son of Edward I.
He was a coward in battle and after the defeat of the English forces by Bruce at Bannockburn (1314) Edward was compelled to recognize the independence of Scotland. After suffering severe losses “The Earl of Gloucester told the king, if you destroy your barons, you indeed make light of your own honour.” To which Edward pathetically replied, “There is no one who is sorry for me.” After Bannockburn one royal messenger said it was not surprising that the king did not win battles as he spent his time hedging and ditching.
He was constantly under the influence of some designing favourite and was so weak in character that it was possible for one man to dominate him to such an extent that he would not accept advice from any other quarter. Gaveston, on being told to leave the country by Edwards father tore out handfuls of the prince’s hair. His unseemly devotion to his favourites was demonstrated by his lavish grants to them as well as in other ways and it was unacceptable. The barons had to take action, first they forced the king to dismiss Piers Gaveston, his earliest favourite, and when Gaveston returned they put him to death (1312). Edward’s two new favourites, Hugh le Despencer and his son were overthrown and put to death by the barons (1322).
Five years later in January 1327 Edward’s enemies led by his French queen Isabella, her lover Roger Mortimer, and her brother the French king, planned a widespread revolt. They easily captured the king, with whose weakness and folly the whole land was disgusted. Then Parliament declared Edward the II deposed, and set his young son Edward III. Eight months later the deposed king was brutally murdered by Mortimer.
Yet one benefit resulted, illustrating what the historian Freeman calls, “The temporary evil, but lasting good of a bad king.” Meaning, things grew so bad that in the end Edward was forced to give up the throne, and Parliament’s control over the throne was thus strengthened.
Edward III (ruled1327-1377)
He was only 15 when his father was overthrown and he himself made king. In 1330 he sized Roger Mortimer and put him to death, and he sent away his unworthy mother. With this act he became the real ruler of England. Edward III proved himself a chivalrous knight rather than a great king. He gained temporary glory but no lasting profit through prolonged fighting in Scotland, which he failed to secure and he launched the so-called hundred-year war, which lasted from 1338 to 1453. In 1338 he ravaged northern and eastern France and proclaimed himself King of France in 1340. The high cost of prolonged fighting forced Edward to appeal for funds from his nobles who struggled to maintain power as Edward’s authority dwindled during his dotage. He was influenced by his mistress (from 1364) Alice Perrers. Other problems included the loss of 800,000 subjects to the Black Death (1348-49) Edward III divided his parliaments into Lords and Commons (1332) He created the title “Justices of the Peace” and also founded the Order of the Garter (1348). English was now replacing French as the national language and it became compulsory to use English from 1362.