THUS THEY traveled along the sunny road, three stout fellows such as you could hardly match anywhere else in all merry England. Many stopped to gaze after them as they strode along, so broad were their shoulders and so sturdy their gait.
Quoth Robin Hood to Little John, “Why didst thou not go straight to Ancaster, yesterday, as I told thee? Thou hadst not gotten thyself into such a coil hadst thou done as I ordered.”
“I feared the rain that threatened,” said Little John in a sullen tone, for he was vexed at being so chaffed by Robin with what had happened to him.
“The rain!” cried Robin, stopping of a sudden in the middle of the road, and looking at Little John in wonder. “Why, thou great oaf! not a drop of rain has fallen these three days, neither has any threatened, nor hath there been a sign of foul weather in earth or sky or water.”
“Nevertheless,” growled Little John, “the holy Saint Swithin holdeth the waters of the heavens in his pewter pot, and he could have poured them out, had he chosen, even from a clear sky; and wouldst thou have had me wet to the skin?”
At this Robin Hood burst into a roar of laughter. “O Little John!” said he, “what butter wits hast thou in that head of thine! Who could hold anger against such a one as thou art?”
So saying, they all stepped out once more, with the right foot foremost, as the saying is.
After they had traveled some distance, the day being warm and the road dusty, Robin Hood waxed thirsty; so, there being a fountain of water as cold as ice, just behind the hedgerow, they crossed the stile and came to where the water bubbled up from beneath a mossy stone. Here, kneeling and making cups of the palms of their hands, they drank their fill, and then, the spot being cool and shady, they stretched their limbs and rested them for a space.
In front of them, over beyond the hedge, the dusty road stretched away across the plain; behind them the meadow lands and bright green fields of tender young corn lay broadly in the sun, and overhead spread the shade of the cool, rustling leaves of the beechen tree. Pleasantly to their nostrils came the tender fragrance of the purple violets and wild thyme that grew within the dewy moisture of the edge of the little fountain, and pleasantly came the soft gurgle of the water. All was so pleasant and so full of the gentle joy of the bright Maytime, that for a long time no one of the three cared to speak, but each lay on his back, gazing up through the trembling leaves of the trees to the bright sky overhead. At last, Robin, whose thoughts were not quite so busy wool- gathering as those of the others, and who had been gazing around him now and then, broke the silence.
“Heyday!” quoth he, “yon is a gaily feathered bird, I take my vow.”
The others looked and saw a young man walking slowly down the highway. Gay was he, indeed, as Robin had said, and a fine figure he cut, for his doublet was of scarlet silk and his stockings also; a handsome sword hung by his side, the embossed leathern scabbard being picked out with fine threads of gold; his cap was of scarlet velvet, and a broad feather hung down behind and back of one ear. His hair was long and yellow and curled upon his shoulders, and in his hand he bore an early rose, which he smelled at daintily now and then.
“By my life!” quoth Robin Hood, laughing, “saw ye e’er such a pretty, mincing fellow?”
“Truly, his clothes have overmuch prettiness for my taste,” quoth Arthur a Bland, “but, ne’ertheless, his shoulders are broad and his loins are narrow, and seest thou, good master, how that his arms hang from his body? They dangle not down like spindles, but hang stiff and bend at the elbow. I take my vow, there be no bread and milk limbs in those fine clothes, but stiff joints and tough thews.”
“Methinks thou art right, friend Arthur,” said Little John. “I do verily think that yon is no such roseleaf and whipped-cream gallant as he would have one take him to be.”
“Pah!” quoth Robin Hood, “the sight of such a fellow doth put a nasty taste into my mouth! Look how he doth hold that fair flower betwixt his thumb and finger, as he would say, ‘Good rose, I like thee not so ill but I can bear thy odor for a little while.’ I take it ye are both wrong, and verily believe that were a furious mouse to run across his path, he would cry, ‘La!’ or ‘Alack-a-day!’ and fall straightway into a swoon. I wonder who he may be.”
“Some great baron’s son, I doubt not,” answered Little John, “with good and true men’s money lining his purse.”
“Ay, marry, that is true, I make no doubt,” quoth Robin. “What a pity that such men as he, that have no thought but to go abroad in gay clothes, should have good fellows, whose shoes they are not fit to tie, dancing at their bidding. By Saint Dunstan, Saint Alfred, Saint Withold, and all the good men in the Saxon calendar, it doth make me mad to see such gay lordlings from over the sea go stepping on the necks of good Saxons who owned this land before ever their great-grandsires chewed rind of brawn! By the bright bow of Heaven, I will have their ill-gotten gains from them, even though I hang for it as high as e’er a forest tree in Sherwood!”
“Why, how now, master,” quoth Little John, “what heat is this? Thou dost set thy pot a-boiling, and mayhap no bacon to cook! Methinks yon fellow’s hair is overlight for Norman locks. He may be a good man and true for aught thou knowest.”
“Nay,” said Robin, “my head against a leaden farthing, he is what I say. So, lie ye both here, I say, till I show you how I drub this fellow.” So saying, Robin Hood stepped forth from the shade of the beech tree, crossed the stile, and stood in the middle of the road, with his hands on his hips, in the stranger’s path.
Meantime the stranger, who had been walking so slowly that all this talk was held before he came opposite the place where they were, neither quickened his pace nor seemed to see that such a man as Robin Hood was in the world. So Robin stood in the middle of the road, waiting while the other walked slowly forward, smelling his rose, and looking this way and that, and everywhere except at Robin.
“Hold!” cried Robin, when at last the other had come close to him. “Hold! Stand where thou art!”
“Wherefore should I hold, good fellow?” said the stranger in soft and gentle voice. “And wherefore should I stand where I am? Ne’ertheless, as thou dost desire that I should stay, I will abide for a short time, that I may hear what thou mayst have to say to me.”
“Then,” quoth Robin, “as thou dost so fairly do as I tell thee, and dost give me such soft speech, I will also treat thee with all due courtesy. I would have thee know, fair friend, that I am, as it were, a votary at the shrine of Saint Wilfred who, thou mayst know, took, willy-nilly, all their gold from the heathen, and melted it up into candlesticks. Wherefore, upon such as come hereabouts, I levy a certain toll, which I use for a better purpose, I hope, than to make candlesticks withal. Therefore, sweet chuck, I would have thee deliver to me thy purse, that I may look into it, and judge, to the best of my poor powers, whether thou hast more wealth about thee than our law allows. For, as our good Gaffer Swanthold sayeth, ‘He who is fat from overliving must needs lose blood.’”
All this time the youth had been sniffing at the rose that he held betwixt his thumb and finger. “Nay,” said he with a gentle smile, when Robin Hood had done, “I do love to hear thee talk, thou pretty fellow, and if, haply, thou art not yet done, finish, I beseech thee. I have yet some little time to stay.”
“I have said all,” quoth Robin, “and now, if thou wilt give me thy purse, I will let thee go thy way without let or hindrance so soon as I shall see what it may hold. I will take none from thee if thou hast but little.”
“Alas! It doth grieve me much,” said the other, “that I cannot do as thou dost wish. I have nothing to give thee. Let me go my way, I prythee. I have done thee no harm.”
“Nay, thou goest not,” quoth Robin, “till thou hast shown me thy purse.”
“Good friend,” said the other gently, “I have business elsewhere. I have given thee much time and have heard thee patiently. Prythee, let me depart in peace.”
“I have spoken to thee, friend,” said Robin sternly, “and I now tell thee again, that thou goest not one step forward till thou hast done as I bid thee.” So saying, he raised his quarterstaff above his head in a threatening way.
“Alas!” said the stranger sadly, “it doth grieve me that this thing must be. I fear much that I must slay thee, thou poor fellow!” So saying, he drew his sword.
“Put by thy weapon,” quoth Robin. “I would take no vantage of thee. Thy sword cannot stand against an oaken staff such as mine. I could snap it like a barley straw. Yonder is a good oaken thicket by the roadside; take thee a cudgel thence and defend thyself fairly, if thou hast a taste for a sound drubbing.”
First the stranger measured Robin with his eye, and then he measured the oaken staff. “Thou art right, good fellow,” said he presently, “truly, my sword is no match for that cudgel of thine. Bide thee awhile till I get me a staff.” So saying, he threw aside the rose that he had been holding all this time, thrust his sword back into the scabbard, and, with a more hasty step than he had yet used, stepped to the roadside where grew the little clump of ground oaks Robin had spoken of. Choosing among them, he presently found a sapling to his liking. He did not cut it, but, rolling up his sleeves a little way, he laid hold of it, placed his heel against the ground, and, with one mighty pull, plucked the young tree up by the roots from out the very earth. Then he came back, trimming away the roots and tender stems with his sword as quiet............