Greenwood Tales E-Book

anonymous

• Herausgeber: Geddes and Grosset
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Seitenzahl: 197

Beschreibung

The exciting adventures of Robin and his merry men, who stole from the rich, and gave to the poor, while dodging the proud Sheriff of Nottingham, are timeless, and entertaining.

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

Title page

Amiens Song

1How They Lived In The Greenwood

2The Tale of Little John

3The Tale of Will Scarlet

4The Greenwood Code

5Robin Hood’s Inn

6Robin and the Bishop

7The Defenders of Gamwell Hall

8The Tale of Friar Tuck

9The Tale of Alan-a-Dale

10How Robin Sold Pots at Nottingham Fair

11The Black Monks

12The Two Strong Wills

13The Rescuing of the Widow’s Three Sons

14Little John’s Adventure

15Vengeance on Guy of Gisborne

16Capture and Escape

17A Greenwood Wedding

18The Coming of Richard the King

19Robin Hood at the Court of King Richard

20Robin’s Return to the Greenwood

21Robin’s Death and Burial

Copyright

Other titles

Under the greenwood tree

Who loves to lie with me,

And tune his merry note

Unto the sweet bird’s throat,

Come hither, come hither, come hither:

Here shall me see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

—Amiens Song.

1

How They Lived In The Greenwood

In the joyous olden days of Merrie England, there dwelt in the green glades of Sherwood Forest, in the County of Nottinghamshire, a band of merry men. Outlaws, the rich folk called them; fellows who lived a wild roving life, caring nothing for the protection of King or State which other sober folk enjoyed, owning no master but one who was as wild, as roving, as lawless, as the rest of them—a clever, freakish fellow, whose name was Robin Hood.

’Twas whispered that once he had been a great man, owning broad lands and fine houses in the fair country of England. But ill luck, or—to twist matters about—as he himself said, good fortune, had taught him to care more for his trusty bow and arrow than all the riches in the world. And he found at last that dainty food, soft beds, and a house roof to cover him seemed but a poor exchange for the flesh of the deer he had hunted and killed, the dew-laden berries of the woods, the forest grass that was his resting-place at night, and, over his head, naught but the spreading branches of the greenwood trees he loved, to come between him and the stars.

And many men, who seemed to be of the same mind as he, found their home with him in the woodlands, and took him for their leader. Odd fellows they were, coming one scarcely knew whence, but all hardy, strong, and fearless; skilful in the use of bow and arrow, careless and free, and with a mighty love of the greenwood and the life they led therein.

There was Little John, the long-limbed young giant whom Robin Hood loved as a brother; there was Will Scarlet, the finest hunter of deer; Alan-a-Dale, who sang his comrades ballads at eventide when the day’s adventures were done, and whose voice was as sweet and joyous as a lark’s on a May morning. There was Midge, the miller’s mighty son, and Friar Tuck, who had left his cloister and his abbot for the Sherwood oaks and the merry forest-life lived by Robin and his men. All these there were and many more, who would not have exchanged their free way of living for all the broad lands of the kingdom, for the very crown of the King himself.

From dawn to dark Robin Hood’s men, in their coats of Lincoln green, were astir in the greenwood, hunting the King’s deer, up and down the glades that every man knew as well as he knew his own face in the forest pools; seeking adventures upon the King’s highways; lightening the King’s rich nobles of their too heavy purses; helping and comforting the King’s poor subjects in their hour of need.

For though the King’s wealthy lords fumed and fretted at Robin Hood’s doings, and swore that he and all his robber-rogues should be caught and hung without delay, yet the poor folk knew that in Robin Hood, the outlaw, they had a staunch friend. Proud knights, and bishops, and abbots, lordlings and high sheriffs—all these, met upon the high roads by Robin Hood’s green-coated followers, would be relieved of their wealth and jewels with a laughing: “By your leave, fair sir! My master bids ye pay a visit with us to Robin Hood’s Inn!” And, willy-nilly, lordling, or knight, or abbot, was forced to go, for those men in green, bristling with bows and arrows, swarmed all around and up and out of the greenwood, as if they had been indeed the forest’s own children.

But for the poor folk—for labourers and old men, yeomen and squires, knights whose lands had been taken from them by grasping nobles, women and little children, Robin and his men had naught but fair words and always a ready hand to help where help was needed. And these people knew that they were free to come and go as they cared, fearing nothing, for those greenwood lads were careful only to take toll from the rich and the proud.

So the days and the years spent in Sherwood Forest passed by merrily, and many an adventure had Robin Hood and the men in green.

And the stories of these adventures—gallant and grave—have been left to us by the minstrels in old rhymes and legends, so that we in England know well today how they lived in the greenwood in days gone by.

For tales such as these never grew old or dull in the telling; and now you, children of England, may hear them once again, and remember that this country’s history is all the brighter and better because once there lived in England a gallant, true-hearted outlaw, whose name was Robin Hood.

2

The Tale of Little John

In his new suit of Lincoln green, Robin strolled round the outlaw camp in Sherwood Forest. He watched his men preparing arrows, refixing bow strings, and carrying out sundry repairs to their weapons.

“They look as if they are fresh from battle,” mused Robin to himself. “Yet for two weeks little has happened in the way of adventure.”

Robin felt restless about the future. He spoke to Midge-the-Miller’s son, one of the new members of the band.

“It’s all very well to be the leader of so fine a band of men—and the band is still growing—but what’s the use of trained fighting men if you can give them no work to do?”

The burly miller’s son laid his hand on his leader’s arm.

“Don’t worry, master,” he said. “We are contented. After all, this is the life we chose.”

But Robin Hood was restless, thirsty for action.

“It’s no good waiting here in the forest for some adventure to come along. It’s getting dull here. I must go outside and look for something more exciting.”

He set out later in the day, alone. He reminded his men to keep their ears sharpened for the call of his horn should there be trouble.

Through the greenwood he wandered, making his way over tangled undergrowth until he came to one of the shady forest paths. Along the path, aimlessly, he walked, until he came to a second path that led across the fields to a distant village.

To his left ran a stream, and he followed it for some way as it threaded a wavy course through the fields. Presently he came to a roughly-made wooden bridge. He mounted the bridge, but there he came to a sudden halt. Standing at the opposite end of the bridge was a giant of a man. He had started to cross at the same time as the outlaw.

Robin walked along the bridge to where the stranger stood. The giant made no attempt to let him pass. Instead he stood squarely in the middle of the bridge and glared insolently at Robin, as if daring him to try to pass.

Here was a situation that promised some excitement. Robin laughed merrily. It was clear that the stranger had no intention of letting him pass. Yet one of them must retreat before the other could cross—and Robin Hood, leader of the Sherwood Forest outlaws, had no intention of giving way to a stranger, however big he might be.

Robin glanced at the swirling stream below. His mind was made up.

“Let me pass, fellow!” he commanded.

The huge man did not move.

“If you don’t move out of my way, you great oaf, I shall have to move you myself!” cried Robin.

The fellow only grinned. Robin became infuriated. He unslung his bow.

“If you don’t move,” he warned, “I’ll show you how we deal with fellows like you.”

As Robin fitted an arrow to his bow, the giant lumbered forward towards him. Poised in his hands was a quarter-staff.

“If you dare pull back the string,” he said, grimly, “I’ll dust the hide off you before you know it!”

They were brave words, for Robin, with his bow, had the advantage. Robin could have killed him if he had chosen. There was no denying this huge fellow’s courage as he stared scornfully at the threatening bow. Robin admired his spirit. The outlaw backed slightly to the end of the footbridge, still with his arrow pointing certain death at the stranger.

“Your talk is foolish,” said he. “I could send an arrow through your heart in quicker time than it would take to tell.”

“You are a coward!” exclaimed the other, with scorn in his voice. “You are armed with bow and arrows; I have only my stout staff.”

“Coward!” laughed Robin. “I like that! I’ll soon show you that I am no coward.”

Robin leapt off the bridge and, going to a nearby oak tree, sprang at one of the branches. By sheer force he tore it down. Quickly he stripped off the leaves and ran back to the bridge.

In the middle of the bridge the two men met. They lunged with their staves. Robin got in a blow on the giant’s shoulder. Fighting back, the man hit Robin on the head with his staff. The fight grew furious. The two were well matched, for Robin was a practised fighter, and the stranger was enormously strong.

Robin poured in a shower of blows, thick and fast. The stranger smote back with a will. Then, just as Robin was beginning to think he was getting the upper hand, he missed his footing and fell with a great splash into the brook.

He struggled to the surface. Heavy rains had swollen the stream, and in the middle it was deep.

“Ho! Where are you now, my fine fellow?” laughed the stranger.

Robin spluttered from the water: “I’m in the flood. You proved yourself the better man that time.”

“All right!” answered the other. “So long as you know you’re beaten, I’ll let you cross the bridge.”

Robin waded out, lower down the stream. He was muddy and wet. He came up to the stranger, and asked him what his business was and whether he had work to do. The giant shook his head.

“Nobody within miles will give John Little even a day’s work,” he said. “They’re all afraid to employ me. The trouble is that I like to work in my own way. They all want me to work in their way. But nobody ever made John Little do what he didn’t want to do—so it always ends in a fight and I have to wander on, often hungry. I could eat a good meal now!”

While the giant was speaking, Robin had been trying to wash some of the mud from his new suit of Lincoln green.

“Come back with me,” he said, picking up his bow and arrows. “I’ll show you a band of fine fellows who would be glad to give you a good meal.”

He turned back the same way as he had come, the stranger striding after him.

As the two reached Sherwood Forest, Robin grasped his horn and placed it to his lips. His only answer was a stream of dirty water that still lay in the instrument after its soaking in the brook. Robin laughed merrily, and his companion joined in.

Robin shook the horn dry and blew again. Three loud notes rang out through the greenwood. Other horns quickly answered his call, and soon a crowd of men, dressed like himself in Lincoln green, surrounded them.

Robin gazed at them proudly.

“These are my merry men, John Little,” he said. “And this,” he continued, turning to his men, “is a man who would not let me pass across a bridge this morning, and instead tumbled me into a stream. What shall we do with him?”

“Duck him!” they cried. “Throw him into a stream as you were thrown!”

“No!” answered Robin. “He has proved himself a fighter with a staff. He had far better join us.” He turned to the giant. “Come, join my merry band!” he said. “We have plenty to eat and drink, and as for the work we have to do—well, our work is to ‘right the wrong’! If there is a tyrant anywhere about, or if a man robs the poor, he has to settle with us. There will be plenty of fighting. It is a hard life, but it offers fine sport. What say you?”

John Little was keen to join. The band turned back towards their camp, and when they reached it Robin Hood, winking mischievously, said to his merry men: “We shall have to re-christen him!”

The men laughed, and swarmed about John Little, dragging him down to the ground. Will-the-Wrestler suggested a new name.

“He says he’s John Little. Then let us call him ‘Little John’!”

They poured mugfuls of water over the giant, and he became ‘Little John’ from that day forward. They dressed him in their uniform of Lincoln green. They taught him to shoot, and how to use his sword and dagger. He never knew again what it was to be hungry, for Robin Hood and his merry band of outlaws dined richly off the King’s deer, which they shot in their forest home.

Little John grew steadily in favour with the outlaws. His rough ways were understood by all, and he became a great favourite. Robin often left him in charge of the band while he went off by himself. The men respected the giant, whose strength was enormous, and they were satisfied to have one so brave and strong as their leader when Robin was away.

3

The Tale of Will Scarlet

“It’s a wonderful morning!”

Robin prodded Little John in the ribs as he spoke. The giant was still asleep under the greenwood tree. He opened his eyes as he heard Robin’s voice, and, stretching his great limbs, he rose to his feet.

“You’re up early,” he said to Robin. The sun was only just creeping up over the horizon, but already it was sending warm beams of yellow through the gently swaying branches overhead.

Robin set out alone into the forest, where the graceful greenery of the overhanging boughs, with the sun’s first rays shining down on the leafy carpet, touched his face like friendly fingers. He longed to see Maid Marian again, and to hear her merry laughter. He loved the comradeship of his Merrie Men, but he never forgot the friendship of his earlier days. It was this longing for old faces that had set him wandering, on this particular morning, alone along the forest paths.

He had reached the edge of the forest along the Nottingham road when he suddenly caught sight of a young man who evidently belonged to some good family. His doublet was all of silk; his stockings were bright scarlet.

“What a bright contrast he makes to the soft greens and browns of the woodland,” thought Robin. “And what a conspicuous target he’d make if anyone were chasing him!”

Then Robin stopped dead in his tracks.

“Hello!” he murmured to himself. “This fellow is up to something.”

The man in scarlet was standing still, his eyes fixed on a herd of deer that, unaware of his presence, were grazing some distance away.

The young man spoke. His voice was soft and cultured.

“I’ll have the best of you for my meal today, and very quickly, too!”

“Heavens!” exclaimed Robin under his breath, as he watched the young man fit an arrow to his bow and take steady aim.

Everyone knew that it was a very serious crime to kill the King’s deer. The outlaws had been doing it for a long time, but this respectable young man was not an outlaw.

Robin stood silent as he saw the man pull back the arrow in the bow. The archer was almost forty yards away from the nearest wanderer from the herd, but, in spite of the distance, his arrow sped straight to its mark, and the stricken deer dropped where it stood, shot through the heart, while the rest of the animals scampered away in a panic.

“Well done! Well hit!” cried Robin loudly.

The young man in the scarlet stockings jumped in surprise. He was startled at the voice so near him. He thought at first that Robin must be one of the foresters of the place. If that were so, he knew that he had been caught red-handed in a crime sufficient to hang him. He had no wish to feel the noose around his neck. It would be better, he thought, to be the attacking party than to be the party attacked.

He acted at once.

“A second shot can be as good as the first,” he cried as he took a step towards Robin, fitting a second arrow to his bow. “If you don’t clear off, this will find a target in your ribs.”

Robin did not move. Though the other was covering him menacingly with his bow and arrow, the outlaw remained fearlessly watching him. There stood the two men, facing each other. Both were unafraid, and each was waiting for the other to make a move.

Robin’s face broke into a smile.

“I say again,” he laughed, “well done! To bring down a deer at forty yards is the feat of a true marksman.”

Suddenly the other man dropped his bow and made towards Robin with clenched fists, exclaiming: “If you don’t take your carcase out of the way, I’ll make you sorry that you ever saw me! What has it to do with you if I kill a deer? Answer me that!”

Robin grinned at the stranger’s wrath.

“If you are so put out with a man who does nothing but pay you a compliment, what kind of a wild beast would you be to one who insulted you?”

“Drop your banter and fight me!” exclaimed the other.

“I’m willing enough to fight,” returned Robin. “I love fighting for its own sake; but why should I fight you? I don’t waste my time on every ill-mannered varlet who crosses my path. When I fight it is with someone of much finer mettle than you!”

Robin’s tone was not bitter. It was gently sarcastic. He knew well that his mockery would not help to bring about peace.

“Boasts, mere boasts!” fumed the other.

He rushed to his bow once more to finish the argument and to avenge the insults. But, as he turned, he found that he was already covered by Robin, who had drawn his bow more quickly.

“Now,” cried Robin, the smile that had been playing about his lips vanishing, “move but one step and I send this arrow flying towards you! If you want a fight, you have a sword by your side. So have I. You are obviously the son of a good family and are entitled to wear a sword. Unsheathe your blade, then, and I’ll cross swords with you!”

The young man wanted no further prompting. He drew his blade immediately and there followed a clashing of steel as sword met sword.

They had not been fighting long before Robin realised that his opponent was no mean fighter. This man was a fine swordsman and Robin had hard work defending himself. Practised as he was in every feint and pass and thrust, Robin discovered that the young man was ready for him and that he must fence with all the tricks and skill he possessed, or his own defence would be broken through.

“This is just the man for my band,” said Robin to himself as they fought on, breathlessly. “A brave fellow, and skilled with his bow as well as with his sword. He’s the very man for me. But, first, I must win this contest.”

He pressed the stranger hard, and the other replied with fresh zeal. The clash of shining steel rang out through the forest as the two fought desperately. First Robin would drive his opponent back; then, under a renewed onslaught, he would give ground before a series of fierce thrusts.

It was not long, however, before Robin could see that his opponent was losing strength. The outlaw knew that by attacking even more fiercely, the stranger would be compelled to give in. Robin closed in with renewed energy. He flashed around the young man, bringing into play all his skill and daring. It was too much for his brave opponent. Slowly he gave way. He was being worn down.

With one terrific stroke, Robin crashed the other’s sword from his hand. The stranger was completely at his mercy—and he knew it! But Robin had no wish to harm him. Instead, he dropped his own sword.

“Listen to me!” said he. “You are a tough lad, whoever you are. You should have a mind for a life of adventure.”

“That’s why I am here,” exclaimed the other, recovering his breath. “I set out to join the band of Robin Hood.”

“Oh! Did you?” smiled Robin.

It was going to be easy to persuade this young man to join him!

“But why should you want to join him?” bantered Robin. “Don’t you know that every man’s hand is turned against him? He is an outlaw, you know!”

“I do know. And my hand isn’t turned against him, for one!” was the reply. “Tales of his adventures have spread far and wide. People who know him have described him to me. He—why, now I come to think of it, he is something like you to look at!”

“I am he!” said Robin.

“You!” The other was nonplussed, not knowing what to say.

Robin dropped his sword into its sheath. “It’s strange that we should meet in this way. I must take you to my men. They will be pleased to see you. But, tell me, why did you leave your home? What have you done?”

“Well, to tell you the truth,” explained the other, “I had an accident, in which I nearly killed one of my father’s servants. It is not yet known whether the man will live or die.”

“Hm!” mused Robin. “That may be serious.”

“Yes, that’s just the trouble. If he lives, everything will be all right. If he dies, you know what will happen to me if I am caught.”

“You’ll be dangling on the end of a rope.”

“I thought the only thing to do,” went on the stranger, “was to join you in the life I have heard about ever since you fled from the Sheriff of Nottingham. I ran away while I was still free and came straight here.”

“Good,” said the outlaw leader. “If you like adventure, we shall not disappoint you. I’ll lead you to my men, and they will treat you as one of themselves.”

His eyes twinkled as he spoke. It was a custom with his men to re-christen all new members. Robin had already thought of a new name for this man.

The two had been walking for some distance when they came to a glade. Here Robin blew the well-known call on his horn. Soon, men came running through the forest to him. They stopped short when they saw the strong young stranger in scarlet stockings.