WHEN THE four yeomen had traveled for a long time toward Sherwood again, high noontide being past, they began to wax hungry. Quoth Robin Hood, “I would that I had somewhat to eat. Methinks a good loaf of white bread, with a piece of snow-white cheese, washed down with a draught of humming ale, were a feast for a king.”
“Since thou speakest of it,” said Will Scarlet, “methinks it would not be amiss myself. There is that within me crieth out, ‘Victuals, good friend, victuals!’”
“I know a house near by,” said Arthur a Bland, “and, had I but the money, I would bring ye that ye speak of; to wit, a sweet loaf of bread, a fair cheese, and a skin of brown ale.”
“For the matter of that, thou knowest I have money by me, good master,” quoth Little John.
“Why, so thou hast, Little John,” said Robin. “How much money will it take, good Arthur, to buy us meat and drink?”
“I think that six broad pennies will buy food enow for a dozen men,” said the Tanner.
“Then give him six pennies, Little John,” quoth Robin, “for methinks food for three men will about fit my need. Now get thee gone, Arthur, with the money, and bring the food here, for there is a sweet shade in that thicket yonder, beside the road, and there will we eat our meal.”
So Little John gave Arthur the money, and the others stepped to the thicket, there to await the return of the Tanner.
After a time he came back, bearing with him a great brown loaf of bread, and a fair, round cheese, and a goatskin full of stout March beer, slung over his shoulders. Then Will Scarlet took his sword and divided the loaf and the cheese into four fair portions, and each man helped himself. Then Robin Hood took a deep pull at the beer. “Aha!” said he, drawing in his breath, “never have I tasted sweeter drink than this.”
After this no man spake more, but each munched away at his bread and cheese lustily, with ever and anon a pull at the beer.
At last Will Scarlet looked at a small piece of bread he still held in his hand, and quoth he, “Methinks I will give this to the sparrows.” So, throwing it from him, he brushed the crumbs from his jerkin.
“I, too,” quoth Robin, “have had enough, I think.” As for Little John and the Tanner, they had by this time eaten every crumb of their bread and cheese.
“Now,” quoth Robin, “I do feel myself another man, and would fain enjoy something pleasant before going farther upon our journey. I do bethink me, Will, that thou didst use to have a pretty voice, and one that tuned sweetly upon a song. Prythee, give us one ere we journey farther.”
“Truly, I do not mind turning a tune,” answered Will Scarlet, “but I would not sing alone.”
“Nay, others will follow. Strike up, lad,” quoth Robin.
“In that case, ’tis well,” said Will Scarlet. “I do call to mind a song that a certain minstrel used to sing in my father’s hall, upon occasion. I know no name for it and so can give you none; but thus it is.” Then, clearing his throat, he sang:
“In the merry blossom time,
When love longings food the breast,
When the flower is on the lime,
When the small fowl builds her nest,
Sweetly sings the nightingale
And the throstle cock so bold;
Cuckoo in the dewy dale
And the turtle in the word.
But the robin I love dear,
For he singeth through the year.
Robin! Robin!
Merry Robin!
So I’d have my true love be:
Not to fly
At the nigh
Sign of cold adversity.
“When the spring brings sweet delights,
When aloft the lark doth rise,
Lovers woo o’ mellow nights,
And youths peep in maidens’ eyes,
That time blooms the eglantine,
Daisies pied upon the hill,
Cowslips fair and columbine,
Dusky violets by the rill.
But the ivy green cloth grow
When the north wind bringeth snow.
Ivy! Ivy!
Stanch and true!
Thus I’d have her love to be:
Not to die
At the nigh
Breath of cold adversity.”
“’Tis well sung,” quoth Robin, “but, cousin, I tell thee plain, I would rather hear a stout fellow like thee sing some lusty ballad than a finicking song of flowers and birds, and what not. Yet, thou didst sing it fair, and ’tis none so bad a snatch of a song, for the matter of that. Now, Tanner, it is thy turn.”
“I know not,” quoth Arthur, smiling, with his head on one side, like a budding lass that is asked to dance, “I know not that I can match our sweet friend’s song; moreover, I do verily think that I have caught a cold and have a certain tickling and huskiness in the windpipe.”
“Nay, sing up, friend,” quoth Little John, who sat next to him, patting him upon the shoulder. “Thou hast a fair, round, mellow voice; let us have a touch of it.”
“Nay, an ye will ha’ a poor thing,” said Arthur, “I will do my best. Have ye ever heard of the wooing of Sir Keith, the stout young Cornish knight, in good King Arthur’s time?”
“Methinks I have heard somewhat of it,” said Robin; “but ne’ertheless strike up thy ditty and let us hear it, for, as I do remember me, it is a gallant song; so out with it, good fellow.”
Thereupon, clearing his throat, the Tanner, without more ado, began to sing:
The Wooing of Sir Keith
“King Arthur sat in his royal hall,
And about on either hand
Was many a noble lordling tall,
The greatest in the land.
“Sat Lancelot with raven locks,
Gawaine with golden hair,
Sir Tristram, Kay who kept the locks,
And many another there.
“And through the stained windows bright,
From o’er the red-tiled eaves,
The sunlight blazed with colored light
On golden helms and greaves.
“But suddenly a silence came
About the Table Round,
For up the hall there walked a dame
Bent nigh unto the ground.
“Her nose was hooked, her eyes were bleared,
Her locks were lank and white;
Upon her chin there grew a beard;
She was a gruesome sight.
“And so with crawling step she came
And kneeled at Arthur’s feet;
Quoth Kay, ‘She is the foulest dame
That e’er my sight did greet.’
“‘O mighty King! of thee I crave
A boon on bended knee’;
’Twas thus she spoke. ‘What wouldst thou have.’
Quoth Arthur, King, ‘of me?’
“Quoth she, ‘I have a foul disease
Doth gnaw my very heart,
And but one thing can bring me ease
Or cure my bitter smart.
“‘There is no rest, no ease for me
North, east, or west, or south,
Till Christian knight will willingly
Thrice kiss me on the mouth.
“‘Nor wedded may this childe have been
That giveth ease to me;
Nor may he be constrained, I ween,
But kiss me willingly.
“‘So is there here one Christian knight
Of such a noble strain
That he will give a tortured wight
Sweet ease of mortal pain?’
“‘A wedded man,’ quoth Arthur, King,
‘A wedded man I be
Else would I deem it noble thing
To kiss thee willingly.
“‘Now, Lancelot, in all men’s sight
Thou art the head and chief
Of chivalry. Come, noble knight,
And give her quick relief.’
“But Lancelot he turned aside
And looked upon the ground,
For it did sting his haughty pride
To hear them laugh around.
“‘Come thou, Sir Tristram,’ quoth the King.
Quoth he, ‘It cannot be,
For ne’er can I my stomach bring
To do it willingly.’
“‘Wilt thou, Sir Kay, thou scornful wight?’
Quoth Kay, ‘Nay, by my troth!
What noble dame would kiss a knight
That kissed so foul a mouth?’
“‘Wilt thou, Gawaine?’ ‘I cannot, King.’
‘Sir Geraint?’ ‘Nay, not I;
My kisses no relief could bring,
For sooner would I die.’
“Then up and spake the youngest man
Of all about the board,
‘Now such relief as Christian can
I’ll give to her, my lord.’
“It was Sir Keith, a youthful knight,
Yet strong of limb and bold,
With beard upon his chin as light
As finest threads of gold.
“Quoth Kay, ‘He hath no mistress yet
That he may call his own,
But here is one that’s quick to get,
As she herself has shown.’
“He kissed her once, he kissed her twice,
He kissed her three times o’er,
A wondrous change came in a trice,
And she was foul no more.
“Her cheeks grew red as any rose,
Her brow as white as lawn,
Her bosom like the winter snows,
Her eyes like those of fawn.
“Her breath grew sweet as summer breeze
That blows the meadows o’er;
Her voice grew soft as rustling trees,
And cracked and harsh no more.
“Her hair grew glittering, like the gold,
Her hands as white as milk;
Her filthy rags, so foul and old,
Were changed to robes of silk.
“In great amaze the knights did stare.
Quoth Kay, ‘I make my vow
If it will please thee, lady fair,
I’ll gladly kiss thee now.’
“But young Sir Keith kneeled on one knee
And kissed her robes so fair.
‘O let me be thy slave,’ said he,
‘For none to thee compare.’
“She bent her down, she kissed his brow,
She kissed his lips and eyes.
Quoth she, ‘Thou art my master now,
My lord, my love, arise!
“‘And all the wealth that is mine own,
My lands, I give to thee,
For never knight hath lady shown
Such noble courtesy.
“‘Bewitched was I, in bitter pain,
But thou hast set me free,
So now I am myself again,
I give myself to thee.’”
“Yea, truly,” quoth Robin Hood, when the Tanner had made an end of singing, “it is as I remember it, a fair ditty, and a ballad with a pleasing tune of a song.”
“It hath oftentimes seemed to me,” said Will Scarlet, “that it hath a certain motive in it, e’en such as this: That a duty which seemeth to us sometimes ugly and harsh, when we do kiss it fairly upon the mouth, so to speak, is no such foul thing after all.”
“Methinks thou art right,” quoth Robin, “and, contrariwise, that when we kiss a pleasure that appeareth gay it turneth foul to us; is it not so, Little John? Truly such a thing hath brought thee sore thumps this day. Nay, man, never look down in the mouth. Clear thy pipes and sing us a ditty.”
“Nay,” said Little John, “I have none as fair as that merry Arthur has trolled. They are all poor things that I know. Moreover, my voice is not in tune today, and I would not spoil even a tolerable song by ill singing.”
Upon this all pressed Little John to sing, so that when he had denied them a proper length of time, such as is seemly in one that is asked to sing, he presently yielded. Quoth he, ‘Well, an ye will ha’ it so, I will give you what I can. Like to fair Will, I have no title to my ditty, but thus it runs:
“O Lady mine, the spring is here,
With a hey nonny nonny;
The sweet love season of the year,
With a ninny ninny nonny;
Now lad and lass
Lie in the grass
That groweth green
With flowers between.
The buck doth rest
The leaves do start,
The cock doth crow,
T............