No. 1. AND LITTLE JOHN: Or, The Merry Men of Sherwood Forest. BY PIERCE EGAN THE YOUNGER. AUTHOR'S OWN EDITION Robin Bood AND LITTLE JOHN; OR, THE MERRY MEN OF SHERWOOD FOREST. Book E. COME LITHE AND LYSTEN GENTLEMEN I SHALL TELL YE OF A GOOD YEMAN- "IN silence then they took the way, N the year of Grace, 1161, during the reign of the second Henry, two travellers, travelstained and mounted upon jaded steeds, wended their way through the intricacies of the vast forest of Shire Wood or Sherwood, situated in Nottinghamshire. It was an evening in March, chill and cold; the wind came in sharp fitful gusts, whistling now, and anon sighing through the young green leaves and old boughs of the huge trees. The sun was fast declining, and was setting with a wild { aspect, deep red clouds clustered gloomily about him, and as he sunk behind the trees, long streams of grey mist rapidly uprose, giving dreary evidence of a stormy night. The travellers were sufficiently weather-wise to recognise in these indications an imperious necessity for a speedy arrival at their journey's end, or, failing in that, to obtain the nearest shelter. One of them, who rode in advance, and appeared the superior, as well as the elder of the two, drew his mantle, in which he was enveloped, closer around him, and called to his companion to quicken his speed; the other obeyed the command with such right good will that he brought himself in a few minutes to a level with his fellow traveller; for a short time they continued their journey in silence, at length the elder traveller broke it by observing "The wind is increasing; I expect it will be a wild night-what think you, Ritson ?" "It looks threatening, my Lord," replied Ritson; "I would our steeds were not so miserably fagged, for it will be somewhat serious to be benighted in this forest." Old Ballad eye and an imperfect recollection to guide me. As yet we have journeyed in the right path, and with good steeds a short hour's ride would bring us to Head's Cottage." "See if you cannot lash that lazy beast of thine into something like a pace," exclaimed his companion, spurring his horse sharply; "my steed, although tired, lags not as does thine." Ritson complied with his master's request, and the tired beast, under the influence of whip and spur, cantered but wearily along. The wind had risen considerably; it howled and moaned like the wail of unquiet spirits; the sun had nearly vanished, and the darkness had increased apace, while the vast trees, which even in the broad daylight shed a sombre hue around, now added to the gloom, and made the twilight almost night; heavy drops of hail began to fall, and the indications of foul weather were being now rapidly realised. "Are we near the dwelling of this yeoman yet?" asked the elder traveller. 66 We are, my Lord, replied his man; a quarter of an hour will bring us there." "This man "It is well," muttered the noble. this Head, is one on whom I may depend ?" "You may, my Lord; particularly when he believes the tale which your Lordship has coined so admirably," replied Ritson: "he is a rough, frank, honest fellow, who has not two ideas of one thing; he believes right ought to be might, and does his best to make it so-Wheugh! there was a blast," he cried, as a gust of wind of tremendous force came tearing through the forest, followed by a vivid flash of lightning and a loud clap of thunder. "There it is, my Lord, there it is!" cried Ritson, with a joyful burst, when the long peal of thunder had ceased; "you see that light twinkling through the trees; that comes from Head's house; it's now eight years since I saw that glimmering light from this spot. Ah! many a merry night have I passed with Gilbert Head." "You have the brat safe ?" interrogated the Lord. "I have, my Lord," was the reply: "he is fast asleep. I cannot see, my Lord, why you should take all this trouble; if this boy is in your way, the quietest and most certain way to remove him would be to give him two inches of cold steel; it is a good time now, it will not take me a minute, and your Lordship will thank me, and remember me in your will, for the deed." "No, no," returned his Lordship, hurriedly; "although he is in my way, and did he reach man's estate, knowing his birthright, it would bring ruin on me, yet I would not imbrue my hands in his blood: no, 'tis better as it is. I shall rid myself of him without being guilty of so foul a crime as murder; and if he never becomes aware of his right of title to the earldom-and he never can unless you disclose it, which it shall be my peculiar care to preventbrought up to a yeoman's life, he will never miss it; I shall enjoy that which I need, and he will not be the worse for losing that which he never needed." tardy in bidding ye welcome, which I now do heartily and truly. Ah! you have steeds with you; we must see to their comfort. Ho! Lincoln!" he shouted, and a stout serving man, in the garb of a forester, made his appearance; "here, lead these steeds to the shed, and see them well served," he cried. The man obeyed without uttering a word, or scarcely glancing at the new comers. Gilbert Head led the travellers to the fire, and a female about thirty, with pretty features, and altogether of a pleasing exterior, met them and bade them welcome. This was the wife of Gilbert Head, and Ritson's sister. "Be it as you will, my Lord," returned Ritson "Why, Margaret !" cried her brother, "eight years coolly; "but for my part, I think a brat's life not have not added much weight to thy brow; thy foreworth a journey from Huntingdonshire to Notting-head is as clear and thine eye as bright as when hamshire. This is the house, my Lord," he concluded, Gilbert came a-wooing." as they arrived in front of a well-built cottage standing on the borders of the forest. It was a welcome sight to both, for their journey had been a long and weary one. It was therefore with a feeling of satisfaction that both dismounted, and Ritson knocked loudly for admittance, accompanying { his blows by a series of shouts, which would, he anticipated, gain for them instant ingress. "What ho! neighbour Head; goodman Head!" he roared. "Gilbert Head! a kinsman knocks; the blazing logs are on thy hearth, and the outside of thy door is to my front; a shelter-a shelter for the benighted!" His appeal was answered by the deep-mouthed baying of hounds, who, on the instant he had struck the door, had rushed to it and poured forth a fierce clamour. A voice was soon heard quieting them, and then inquiring" Who knocks ?" "Thy kinsman, Roland Ritson," was the reply. ແ Open quickly, good Gilbert. I have a companion with me; we are wet to the skin; quick, quick!" What, Roland Ritson, of Mansfield?" asked the voice. "Aye, aye, the same-at least I was of Mansfield," returned Ritson, impatiently. "You forget, good Gilbert, the rain is coming down in torrents; hear ye not the wind ?" "No, I do not forget that 'tis a rough night, neither forget I that you played me a scurvy trick at our last meeting, Master Roland," said the voice. "But as you have one with you, and the night is not over pleasant, why, my hospitality shall not be questioned; else beshrew me, but I would let you thump till your arm ached, and shout till you were hoarse, ere I would let door of mine fly back at your command." Saying which, the speaker unbound the door, and admitted the travellers. "Give me thy hand, Gilbert," said Ritson, with an appearance of frank cordiality. "I acknowledge my offence, and am heartily ashamed of it; I freely ask thy pardon, and beg of thee to remember I was some eight years younger than I stand now before you, and that much wilder; besides, good Gilbert, you had your revenge of me." "And so I had!" replied Gilbert, laughing, "it's ill sport to draw a shaft on a dead buck, and so there's my hand. A welcome to my humble roof, sir stranger," he added, turning to Ritson's companion. “ Judge not harshly of my good will, that an oaken door stood some time between you and my hearth after you had asked for admittance; but some rude neighbours in the forest here, who would be hand-and-glove with whatever they can lay claw on, without consulting the inclination of the owner, make it needful to trust to bars and bolts for a security which is denied to a strong arm and stcut heart, when opposed to numbers; and a difference between me and my kinsman there, which occurred some years since, made me "I have been well and very happy," she replied, bestowing a glance of affection upon her husband, who returned it with a hearty kiss. "You may say we, Maggie girl, for we have been very happy," cried the honest yeoman, his eyes dwelling upon the pleasing face of his wife with a look of intense satisfaction; "and thanks to thy sweet temper, there has been no sullen looks nor rough words to mar our peace. But come, kinsman, doff your cloak; and you, sir, the rain hangs upon thy cloth like dew on the leaves. Bustle, Margaret; make the faggots blaze; a hot supper shall soon drive out the cold which the rain has worked in." The worthy couple moved themselves with a good will, and hastened to place materials for a hearty sup per upon the table. While thus employed, Ritson took the opportunity of throwing his cloak from his shoulders, and discovered a sleeping child resting upon his arm, wrapped in a cloak of fine blue cloth; the face of the infant was of great beauty, round and well formed, and the clear skin, ruby lips, and red cheeks exhibited the appearance of extreme health. When Ritson had quite disengaged himself from his mantle, and disposed the child to as much advantage as circumstances would allow, he turned to his sister, and assuming a tone of voice which would best answer his purpose, said "Margaret, come hither, I have a present for thee; you shall not say that I returned after eight years' absence empty handed. See what I have brought thee." "Holy Mary!" ejaculated the astonished Margaret as she saw the child, “a child! why, Roland, where got you this, is it thine? What an angel! oh, Gilbert, look at this sweet child." "Why, what now ?" exclaimed Gilbert Head, as he looked upon the child with almost as much amazement as his wife. "A sleeping babe! What, Roland, at your old tricks again, eh ?-or have you turned nurse in your reformed state ?-it's strange for you to be scouring the country on stormy nights with an infant in your arms. What's in the wind, lad? Out with it; I know thee, Roland. Now, I've seen this babe, I am well assured it was not a mere matter of being benighted that brought you hither. Out with it, Ritson, let's have the worst and best." "You shall have all I know, in good truth," replied Roland. "This child is none of mine-nor of any one's, now; it is an orphan, but this friend of mine is the present owner; he knew the family and the whole story, which he shall tell you. But if you have Christian charity, you will spread the supper table and say 'sit ye down and eat and drink your fill, and to what there is ye are kindly welcome." Here, Margaret, take the boy; my arm has been his cradle these two dayshours I mean--and my arm aches." "The sweet innocent shall not stay thy stomach from its feast," said Margaret, taking the child from her brother's arms, while an expression of pleasure "You hesitate," said the noble, a frown gathering on his brow; "my proposition likes you not." passed over her features as she received him and gazed on the sweet calm features reposing in gentle slumber. She carried him gently up a flight of stairs which led "In good truth," said the yeoman quickly, "it from the room they were in to her bed room; she likes me well, for since it hath not pleased the Holy placed the sleeping infant upon the bed, and covering Mother to grant us bantlings, I should be well pleased him with her own scarlet mantle which decorated her to fondle one, to bring him up to good thoughts and fair person when she went to mass or to holiday honest deeds, though he be not son of mine; but it treats, returned to the room she had previously quitted. { rests with Maggie; if it likes her we will cry a barShe found her husband bantering her brother and gain, sir stranger. What say you, girl?" the stranger alternately, upon the possession of the child; which the former took in good part, but the latter rather stiffly, although he strove to conceal the dislike be felt to the honest yeoman's freedom of speech. The supper passed away without an occurrence worthy of remark, and with little conversation, save a few questions from Gilbert and Margaret to her brother, which he saw fit to answer only as it would serve his present purpose. At length, when Gilbert began to entertain serious notions of retiring for the night, and to think in what way he could dispose of his guests to their satisfaction, the noble broke the silence which had reigned for a short time, by remarking to his host, "You were making some observations respecting the infant which your relative brought hither to-night and consigned to the custody of your wife. I am in a position to satisfy your curiosity, and as I have a proposition to make which will affect his future wel- { fare, I wish to put you in possession of all matters connected with him. "I am well content the child stay with us, Gilbert; for, as this good soldier truly says, what should he do with a young and tender babe, being kinless and passing his life in the rough scenes of war? It is a sweet child, and pity indeed 'twould be that harm should come to it. Let him be as though he were our own, until you, sir, shall think it time he change a forest home for one of thy choosing." "Our thoughts and wishes jump together in this, as they do in all things, dear Maggie," said her husband affectionately to her. Then turning to the traveller, he continued-" Well, sir soldier, it is a bargain; we keep the boy until he is of anage to give you no trouble, and when that time arrives you will see we have dealt honestly by him, to which I pledge my faith, and there's my glove on it," he concluded, drawing one of his gauntlets from his belt, and throwing it on the table. "I accept the token," returned the traveller, taking up the glove, and giving one of his own in exchange. He then drew a small bag from a pocket in his doublet, adding, "Here is a sum in gold pieces, which each year I will transmit to you, be I at what quarter of the globe I may, for his support and clothing." was at length terminated by a proposal from Margaret to receive the sum and put it by each year, until the boy quitted them; it would then make a pretty purse to begin the world with. This was agreed to, a few arrangements were made and the parties separated for the night. "His father was a soldier, of good family, a most dear and intimate friend of mine, and a comrade in arms. We served for some time together in France This proposition met with strong opposition on the under the present King Henry, in Normandy, { part of the good yeoman, who stoutly refused to reAquitaine, Poictou, and many other places, and again,ceive a fraction of it; but the friendly altercation a few years since, in Wales. While in Normandy, he contracted an intimacy with a young girl, a native of { Auvergne; they were married; he brought her to England with him, but he could not acknowledge her as his wife, on account of the prejudices of his family, who were high, proud, and valued themselves upon their pure descent from a Saxon monarch. The poor girl died in giving birth to the child, and my friend lost his life, about ten months since, in the war on the frontiers of Normandy. I was by his side when he received his death wound, and his last thoughts were upon his child; he gave me the name and address of the female to whose charge he had committed it ere he quitted England, and begged me, by the remembrance of our old friendship, for his sake to foster and cherish it. I promised to do so; but, good yeoman, I am a rough soldier, without kith or kin, passing a chequered life in the camp and field. { What, then, am I to do with a tender babe, e'en though I passed a soldier's word for its health and safety? In this strait I advised with thy kinsman, and he bethought him of thee; he said thou hadst a young wife, had no family of thine own, were trust-they had gone ere day-break. worthy, honest folk, and would do kindly by the boy, if, on a promise of being well paid, you consented to take charge of him until he is of an age to follow me, should I be spared, to the field, and emulate the deeds of his brave sire. What say you, honest friend, shall it be as I wish? my pay and my share of spoil hath made my income good; I can spare a round sum from it yearly to pay for his keep. What say you, pretty dame, you will not say me nay to nurture a fair child, albeit it is none of thine ?" "A pretty plaything for thee, Margaret, by St. Peter! and pin money to boot; think of that, kinswoman," chimed in Roland Ritson. Margaret iooked at her husband, and he looked at her, but neither spoke. When Gilbert Head rose next morning, his first act was to visit the shed, to see that his visitors' steeds had met with good treatment. He found them well groomed, but still labouring under the effects of long and hard riding; they were noble steeds, of high breeding and excellent value. Gilbert Head possessed two horses, and it was with something like a smile he turned to compare these high-bred cattle with his own forest nags. To his surprise he missed them; they were absent from the stable, and as he knew none connected with his establishment (for he was a keeper of the forest) dare take either or both without his permission, as he kept them for his own especial riding, his mind misgave him that his guests had not stayed for leave-taking. He sought the chamber in which he led them to repose, and found it empty : "There is something afloat that should not be," he muttered, "or they would not have left in this strange manner. At least they have not been dishonest, everything is as I left it; and so far from robbing me, they have given me a bag of gold, exchanged two blood horses for a pair of sturdy forest nags, but common brutes in comparison with those I have in exchange, and I have a pretty boy thrown into the bargain. No, no, 'tis no picking and stealing they have been after; there is something in which this child is concerned, of some particular importance, that has made them journey long and wearily to seek me out. Well, be it what may, I will do my best by A custom of the time, being a species of guarantee of good faith. the boy, and turn him out something like what a man should be, if wicked blood be not in his veins; and if it be, the fiend himself wouldn't make a stout yew bow out of a broken reed." He returned to the room below, and found his wife { seated by the fire nursing the little stranger. He communicated to her the unceremonious departure of their guests, and she, who had no very high opinion of her brother's principles, could give no explanation of their singular conduct; it served them for some speculative conversation. "It is very odd," concluded Margaret, after a speech of some length, "that this stranger and my brother should have quitted the house without e'en letting us know where to find them, in case we need their presence, or even by what name we should call this little dear child." "I have thought so too," answered Gilbert; "but since we know not whether he has had a name given { to him by his godfathers and godmothers, we will even stand sponsors to him ourselves, and call him by the name of my dear brother whom I loved so well, he who died some years since, even Robert-Robyn, as I used to call him, Heaven rest his soul!" And so the child was named Robyn Head; or as in after times it became corrupted, ROBIN HOOD. CHAPTER II. "-See a youth of clene compacted lim, RICHARD NICCOLS, 1616. IFTEEN years after the events related in the preceding chapter, upon a beautiful morning near the end of May, Gilbert Head rode through Sherwood Forest, with the purpose of visiting the pretty little village of Mansfeldwoodhaus, to obtain some articles for housekeeping. The morning was bright and clear; the trees were clothed in their new bright { vestments of green; the grass, sparkling with dew, seemed spotted here and there with small flowers, like a mosaic pavement inlaid with millions of diamonds; the wild ivy clambered up the twisted trunks of the huge oaks, and the sweet flowers which grew in profusion followed them, caressing twiningly alike the ivy and the trees; singing birds thronged the oaks, the beech, the elms, and the heavens, making the air redolent with melody; ever and anon a buck, startled by the sound of the horse's footsteps, would start from its resting place, bound across the path, and in an instant be lost in some thicket which stood friendlily near. Gilbert felt the influence of the bright morning upon him, and in the fulness of his lightheartedness contributed his share to the harmony which reigned around, by chanting portions of Saxon ballads, which it is to be regretted, from their quaint humour, have not been handed down to us; he was busily engaged in shouting forth one which told of the marvellous re-appearance of good King Harold, after his supposed death at the battle of Hastings, to William Rufus, at the moment he was shot in the New Forest by Sir Walter de Poix or Tyrrel, and how it was the Evil One, in the shape of a hart, who had caused the horrid catastrophe, His bow-string had broken, the hart seem'd lame, At that instant an arrow whistled by his ear, and stood quivering in the trunk of an oak near him. "And the king fell dead," As he he repeated in rather a startled tone; he drew up his nag; another moment, and a second arrow flew by him with no better aim. Close enough it was to make him start, for he felt the wind of it as it swept by his cheek; ere a third shaft could follow its predecessor, he dismounted, sprung behind an oak, and lost not a second in bending his bow, which he had kept unstrung, as he was upon a peaceful mission, and did not wish even a pleasant opportunity of sport to interfere with what he considered domestic duties. He drew an arrow from his quiver, and placing it to his bow, drew it ready to discharge the first moment he caught a glimpse of his unseen enemy. He looked earnestly in the direction from which the arrows had proceeded, but saw not the slightest appearance which could betoken the presence of aught human; his horse stood perfectly still, and he imagined that while there it remained it would be a kind of finger-post to indicate to his hidden foe where to send his arrows. had no particular fancy to make his body a target to the archer who had been pleasant enough to make an effort for his removal from this state to another, it struck him that the best thing he could do would be to send on the nag and await the issue, trusting to a bountiful Providence for an opportunity of repaying the favours he had received in the same coin. When he arrived at this conclusion, he gave a particular sound with his tongue, with which the beast was well acquainted, and accordingly so soon as he heard it, he pricked up his ears and jogged on. Gilbert waited patiently a short time, but nothing appeared; nor sight nor sound met his eyes or ears, save the blue sky, the green trees, the flowers, the warbling of the birds, and the gentle rustling which the cool breeze stirred among the leaves; he loosed his arrow from the bow, and it went whistling to the spot where he imagined his foe lay concealed; he looked hard and closely where it disappeared, but all was still. He tried another ruse, he took a shaft from his quiver, and putting a gauntlet upon it, placed it against the trunk of the tree, in order, should it attract attention and be shot at, he might see from whence the shaft came. It had scarce glanced in the sunlight, ere an arrow pinned it to the tree; so quick, so speedy had been the act, that he remained as ignorant as ever from whence the arrow proceeded; but he looked at the shaft, and, as it had flown straight, he well knew that its heel pointed to the spot from whence it had been discharged. Taking a deliberate aim at the part where he deemed it most probable the unseen archer lay, he fancied he saw something glitter; he let fly his shaft on the instant, and heard a clear laugh ring in the air nearly as soon as the bow-string twanged, and a rich voice, almost like a woman's, sing There are deer in the woods, there are flow'rs in the lea; "It's Robin-young, saucy, merry Robin, as I am a sinful man!" cried Gilbert, advancing from behind the tree and calling out lustily, "Ho! come forth, young hide-and seek. Is this thy sport to level thy shafts at thy father? By the mass! but I thought I had the arrow of an outlaw picking acquaintance with my skull. Have you no more reverence for my grey locks than to see if thine arrow will turn them |