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  CHAPTER VI

  What! shall we have incision? shall we embrew? --Henry IV.

  Old Sir Guy of Gamwell, and young William Gamwell, and fair AliceGamwell, and Sir Ralph Montfaucon and his squire, rode together thenext morning to the scene of the feast. They arrived on a village green,surrounded with cottages peeping from among the trees by which thegreen was completely encircled. The whole circle was hung round with onecontinuous garland of flowers, depending in irregular festoons from thebranches. In the centre of the green was a May-pole hidden in boughsand garlands; and a multitude of round-faced bumpkins and cherry-checkedlasses were dancing around it, to the quadruple melody of Scrapesqueak,Whistlerap, Trumtwang, and Muggledrone: harmony we must not call it;for, though they had agreed to a partnership in point of tune, each,like a true painstaking man, seemed determined to have his time tohimself: Muggledrone played allegretto, Trumtwang allegro, Whistlerappresto, and Scrapesqueak prestissimo. There was a kind of mathematicalproportion in their discrepancy: while Muggledrone played the tune fourtimes, Trumtwang played it five, Whistlerap six, and Scrapesqueak eight;for the latter completely distanced all his competitors, and indeedworked his elbow so nimbly that its outline was scarcely distinguishablethrough the mistiness of its rapid vibration.

  While the knight was delighting his eyes and ears with these pleasantsights and sounds, all eyes were turned in one direction; and Sir Ralph,looking round, saw a fair lady in green and gold come riding through thetrees, accompanied by a portly friar in grey, and several fair damselsand gallant grooms. On their nearer approach, he recognised the ladyMatilda and her ghostly adviser, brother Michael. A party of forestersarrived from another direction, and then ensued cordial interchanges ofgreeting, and collisions of hands and lips, among the Gamwells and thenew-comers,--"How does my fair coz, Mawd?" and "How does my sweet coz,Mawd?" and "How does my wild coz, Mawd?" And "Eh! jolly friar, yourhand, old boy:" and "Here, honest friar:" and "To me, merry friar:" and"By your favour, mistress Alice:" and "Hey! cousin Robin:" and "Hey!cousin Will:" and "Od's life! merry Sir Guy, you grow younger everyyear,"--as the old knight shook them all in turn with one hand, andslapped them on the back with the other, in token of his affection. Anumber of young men and women advanced, some drawing, and others dancinground, a floral car; and having placed a crown of flowers on Matilda'shead, they saluted her Queen of the May, and drew her to the placeappointed for the rural sports.

  A hogshead of ale was abroach under an oak, and a fire was blazing inan open space before the trees to roast the fat deer which the forestersbrought. The sports commenced; and, after an agreeable series ofbowling, coiling, pitching, hurling, racing, leaping, grinning,wrestling or friendly dislocation of joints, and cudgel-playing oramicable cracking of skulls, the trial of archery ensued. The conquerorwas to be rewarded with a golden arrow from the hand of the Queen of theMay, who was to be his partner in the dance till the close of the feast.This stimulated the knight's emulation: young Gamwell supplied him witha bow and arrow, and he took his station among the foresters, but hadthe mortification to be out-shot by them all, and to see one of themlodge the point of his arrow in the golden ring of the centre, andreceive the prize from the hand of the beautiful Matilda, who smiled onhim with particular grace. The jealous knight scrutinised the successfulchampion with great attention, and surely thought he had seen that facebefore. In the mean time the forester led the lady to the station. Theluckless Sir Ralph drank deep draughts of love from the matchless graceof her attitudes, as, taking the bow in her left hand, and adjusting thearrow with her right, advancing her left foot, and gently curving herbeautiful figure with a slight motion of her head that waved her blackfeathers and her ringleted hair, she drew the arrow to its head, andloosed it from her open fingers. The arrow struck within the ring ofgold, so close to that of the victorious forester that the points werein contact, and the feathers were intermingled. Great acclamationssucceeded, and the forester led Matilda to the dance. Sir Ralph gazedon her fascinating motions till the torments of baffled love and jealousrage became unendurable; and approaching young Gamwell, he asked himif he knew the name of that forester who was leading the dance with theQueen of the May?

  "Robin, I believe," said young Gamwell carelessly; "I think they callhim Robin."

  "Is that all you know of him?" said Sir Ralph.

  "What more should I know of him?" said young Gamwell.

  "Then I can tell you," said Sir Ralph, "he is the outlawed Earl ofHuntingdon, on whose head is set so large a price."

  "Ay, is he?" said young Gamwell, in the same careless manner.

  "He were a prize worth the taking," said Sir Ralph.

  "No doubt," said young Gamwell.

  "How think you?" said Sir Ralph: "are the foresters his adherents?"

  "I cannot say," said young Gamwell.

  "Is your peasantry loyal and well-disposed?" said Sir Ralph.

  "Passing loyal," said young Gamwell.

  "If I should call on them in the king's name," said Sir Ralph, "thinkyou they would aid and assist?"

  "Most likely they would," said young Gamwell, "one side or the other."

  "Ay, but which side?" said the knight.

  "That remains to be tried," said young Gamwell.

  "I have King Henry's commission," said the knight, "to apprehend thisearl that was. How would you advise me to act, being, as you see,without attendant force?"

  "I would advise you," said young Gamwell, "to take yourself off withoutdelay, unless you would relish the taste of a volley of arrows, a showerof stones, and a hailstorm of cudgel-blows, which would not be turnedaside by a God save King Henry."

  Sir Ralph's squire no sooner heard this, and saw by the looks of thespeaker that he was not likely to prove a false prophet, than he clappedspurs to his horse and galloped off with might and main. This gave theknight a good excuse to pursue him, which he did with great celerity,calling, "Stop, you rascal." When the squire fancied himself safe outof the reach of pursuit, he checked his speed, and allowed the knightto come up with him. They rode on several miles in silence, tillthey discovered the towers and spires of Nottingham, where the knightintroduced himself to the sheriff, and demanded an armed force to assistin the apprehension of the outlawed Earl of Huntingdon. The sheriff, whowas willing to have his share of the prize, determined to accompany theknight in person, and regaled him and his man with good store of thebest; after which, they, with a stout retinue of fifty men, took the wayto Gamwell feast.

  "God's my life," said the sheriff, as they rode along, "I had as liefyou would tell me of a service of plate. I much doubt if this outlawedearl, this forester Robin, be not the man they call Robin Hood, whohas quartered himself in Sherwood Forest, and whom in endeavouringto apprehend I have fallen divers times into disasters. He hasgotten together a band of disinherited prodigals, outlawed debtors,excommunicated heretics, elder sons that have spent all they had, andyounger sons that never had any thing to spend; and with these he killsthe king's deer, and plunders wealthy travellers of five-sixths of theirmoney; but if they be abbots or bishops, them he despoils utterly."

  The sheriff then proceeded to relate to his companion the adventure ofthe abbot of Doubleflask (which some grave historians have related ofthe abbot of Saint Mary's, and others of the bishop of Hereford): howthe abbot, returning to his abbey in company with his high selerer,who carried in his portmanteau the rents of the abbey-lands, and with anumerous train of attendants, came upon four seeming peasants, whowere roasting the king's venison by the king's highway: how, in justindignation at this flagrant infringement of the forest laws, he askedthem what they meant, and they answered that they meant to dine: how heordered them to be seized and bound, and led captive to Nottingham,that they might know wild-flesh to have been destined by Providencefor licensed and privileged appetites, and not for the base hunger ofunqualified knaves: how they prayed for mercy, and how the abbot sworeby Saint Charity that he would show them none: how one of them thereupondrew a bugle horn from under h
is smock-frock and blew three blasts, onwhich the abbot and his train were instantly surrounded by sixty bowmenin green: how they tied him to a tree, and made him say mass for theirsins: how they unbound him, and sate him down with them to dinner, andgave him venison and wild-fowl and wine, and made him pay for his fareall the money in his high selerer's portmanteau, and enforced him tosleep all night under a tree in his cloak, and to leave the cloak behindhim in the morning: how the abbot, light in pocket and heavy in heart,raised the country upon Robin Hood, for so he had heard the chiefforester called by his men, and hunted him into an old woman's cottage:how Robin changed dresses with the old woman, and how the abbot rode ingreat triumph to Nottingham, having in custody an old woman in a greendoublet and breeches: how the old woman discovered herself: how themerrymen of Nottingham laughed at the abbot: how the abbot railed at theold woman, and how the old woman out-railed the abbot, telling him thatRobin had given her food and fire through the winter, which no abbotwould ever do, but would rather take it from her for what he called thegood of the church, by which he meant his own laziness and gluttony; andthat she knew a true man from a false thief, and a free forester from agreedy abbot.

  "Thus you see," added the sheriff, "how this villain perverts thedeluded people by making them believe that those who tithe and toll uponthem for their spiritual and temporal benefit are not their best friendsand fatherly guardians; for he holds that in giving to boors and oldwomen what he takes from priests and peers, he does but restore to theformer what the latter had taken from them; and this the impudent varletcalls distributive justice. Judge now if any loyal subject can be safein such neighbourhood."

  While the sheriff was thus enlightening his companion concerning theoffenders, and whetting his own indignation against them, the sun wasfast sinking to the west. They rode on till they came in view of abridge, which they saw a party approaching from the opposite side, andthe knight presently discovered that the party consisted of the ladyMatilda and friar Michael, young Gamwell, cousin Robin, and abouthalf-a-dozen foresters. The knight pointed out the earl to the sheriff,who exclaimed, "Here, then, we have him an easy prey;" and they rode onmanfully towards the bridge, on which the other party made halt.

  "Who be these," said the friar, "that come riding so fast this way? Now,as God shall judge me, it is that false knight Sir Ralph Montfaucon, andthe sheriff of Nottingham, with a posse of men. We must make good ourpost, and let them dislodge us if they may."

  The two parties were now near enough to parley; and the sheriff and theknight, advancing in the front of the cavalcade, called on the lady,the friar, young Gamwell, and the foresters, to deliver up thatfalse-traitor, Robert, formerly Earl of Huntingdon. Robert himself madeanswer by letting fly an arrow that struck the ground between the forefeet of the sheriff's horse. The horse reared up from the whizzing, andlodged the sheriff in the dust; and, at the same time, the fair Matildafavoured the knight with an arrow in his right arm, that compelled himto withdraw from the affray. His men lifted the sheriff carefully up,and replaced him on his horse, whom he immediately with great rage andzeal urged on to the assault with his fifty men at his heels, some ofwhom were intercepted in their advance by the arrows of the forestersand Matilda; while the friar, with an eight-foot staff, dislodged thesheriff a second time, and laid on him with all the vigour of the churchmilitant on earth, in spite of his ejaculations of "Hey, friarMichael! What means this, honest friar? Hold, ghostly friar! Hold, holyfriar!"--till Matilda interposed, and delivered the battered sheriffto the care of the foresters. The friar continued flourishing hisstaff among the sheriff's men, knocking down one, breaking the ribs ofanother, dislocating the shoulder of a third, flattening the nose ofa fourth, cracking the skull of a fifth, and pitching a sixth into theriver, till the few, who were lucky enough to escape with whole bones,clapped spurs to their horses and fled for their lives, under a farewellvolley of arrows.

  Sir Ralph's squire, meanwhile, was glad of the excuse of attendinghis master's wound to absent himself from the battle; and put the poorknight to a great deal of unnecessary pain by making as long a businessas possible of extracting the arrow, which he had not accomplished whenMatilda, approaching, extracted it with great facility, and bound upthe wound with her scarf, saying, "I reclaim my arrow, sir knight, whichstruck where I aimed it, to admonish you to desist from your enterprise.I could as easily have lodged it in your heart."

  "It did not need," said the knight, with rueful gallantry; "you havelodged one there already."

  "If you mean to say that you love me," said Matilda, "it is more than Iever shall you: but if you will show your love by no further interferingwith mine, you will at least merit my gratitude."

  The knight made a wry face under the double pain of heart andbody caused at the same moment by the material or martial, and themetaphorical or erotic arrow, of which the latter was thus barbed by adeclaration more candid than flattering; but he did not choose to putin any such claim to the lady's gratitude as would bar all hopes of herlove: he therefore remained silent; and the lady and her escort, leavinghim and the sheriff to the care of the squire, rode on till they came insight of Arlingford Castle, when they parted in several directions. Thefriar rode off alone; and after the foresters had lost sight of him theyheard his voice through the twilight, singing,--

  A staff, a staff, of a young oak graff, That is both stoure and stiff, Is all a good friar can needs desire To shrive a proud sheriffe. And thou, fine fellowe, who hast tasted so Of the forester's greenwood game, Wilt be in no haste thy time to waste In seeking more taste of the same: Or this can I read thee, and riddle thee well, Thou hadst better by far be the devil in hell, Than the sheriff of Nottinghame.