The first and last stories are essentially direct adaptions. The others are original. These are for my nephews but also I am proud of them and want to share. See also my Odysseus stories.
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Robin Hood and the Beggar Knight
One day, a knight came to Sherwood Forest, a dense and wild place in the heart of England. Though it was surrounded by farmland and towns and roads, a king long ago had declared it his personal property, and jealously denied it to all the people who relied on it. The villages that surrounded it were forbidden from taking wood for their fires, from hunting or fishing for food, or any of the other carefully managed industries that relied on the trees and animals of Sherwood. The spring after the king made his decree, he came to the forest and spent a week hunting deer before returning to his castle in London. Though the royal family never returned to Sherwood Forest, they continued to outlaw all use of the place by others. Over the years, it grew thicker and wilder, and ever more bountiful, ever more forbidden.
And so, in the hard years that followed, there was only one road that went through Sherwood Forest, and all the people of the area who had to choose between starving and hunting the king's deer had become outlaws, who hid in the forest. The knight who came to the woods was only passing through, just one man on a horse, when he heard a voice from the shadows.
"Ho, goodly knight, and well met!" First one man, then many, appeared. They were dressed in Lincoln green clothes, the better to blend into the leaves and lichen, and each was friendly and well-fed. The first, their leader Robin Hood, wore a Phrygian cap that symbolized freedom and had a pointy little beard, and he invited the knight to dine with them in their camp, "for well I ween that your journey has been long and sorrowful," The knight, suspecting they were outlaws, felt he had no choice— if they wanted to hurt him, there were so many that he stood no chance, and after all he was hungry and tired.
When he came to the camp, the knight was amazed. Fresh venison cured and a barbecue was underway, the sweetest berries were picked from the vine and coca was made into a sort of sweet, bitter chocolate that they greatly admired. Herbs had been carefully planted and gardened so that no meal that wanted it went without garlic, pepper, rosemary, and other spices. Wine stolen from the estates of wealthy landlords or made simply was offered alongside beer, mead, ale, juice, and sasparilla. Everything was given in ample amounts, and it was all the better because Robin Hood's gang sang songs, danced, told tales, and bigged each other up. Each was quick to include the knight, and he saw that they had new horseshoes for his horse, making sure to feed and care for it well.
"I have heard of your band, good yeoman," the knight said to Robin Hood. "Now I understand why you are called the Merry Men. I confess that some call you rebel or madman, but you have treated me better than many powerful men when I have come to their tables to eat,"
"Stories grow in the telling," Robin Hood laughed. "Now rest yourself, and tomorrow go on restored," But when the knight woke up the next day, he found himself surrounded by the Merry Men, his sword carefully stolen from him while he slept. "It occurs to me," Robin said, pretending the idea had just come to him, "That it's not right for a low-born yeoman like myself to pay the expenses for the meal of a high-born gentleman like yourself. How about you cover the cost of the feast we just had,"
The knight's face grew long. "I should have known it was too good to be true. This cheat was your object from the beginning. But though you have me at your mercy, yet you will be disappointed. In my coffers I carry but ten shillings," This was almost nothing for a knight to own, as though a rich person in a large house with many employees only had ten dollars. Robin Hood thought he might be lying, so he had his men open the knight's coffer, and in the box there was almost nothing— just the ten shillings. On a closer look, Robin saw that the knight was lean and unprosperous, his horse was likewise thin, and his cloak, which had once been fancy and fine, was thin and threadbare.
"How did it come to be that you should be so poor? There is no knight but he is supported either by a high and rich lord, or else by the rents of the serfs who farm for him,"
"Indeed, Robin," said the knight, "my wealth is in my land and the people who work it. My family has lived simply and tried to use the excess to aid the serfs, but last year I received word that my son had been captured in a foreign war, and his jailors demanded four hundred pounds. I could not pay the ransom price they demanded, so the abbot of Saint Mary's Church lent me the money to save my son. Yet before I could harvest my fields and use the crops to repay him, he demanded repayment in full. The abbot knows there's no way I can pay before the harvest, but he writes the rules. When I fail to pay, he has the legal right to take all my lands and add them to the church's. My son may return soon, but he will have no home and the people will have a greedy man for a master. I ride now to beg the abbot for mercy and delay, but fear I am doomed,"
Robin gave a wistful nod. "I see now that you're no hoity-toity knight, one to lord it over his people, but a man with a good heart. Your coffer is bare, but mine overflows. I'll lend you the gold to repay the abbot, and you may pay when you are able. I'll not exploit your sorry state to my own aid, for that's the bully's way— I take on the great and give to the good,"
The knight could not believe his luck. In a few minutes he had gone from a poor captive to wealthy and free. He promised to be faithful to the loan once his harvest had come in, and thanked Robin Hood for all he had done before setting off.
Surely enough, when he arrived at Saint Mary's Church, he found the abbot counting up his piles of gold. Everything he received in tithe from the common people, he secreted away for himself. Everything granted him by the pope was spent on golden cups and fine paintings he could sneakily sell. Everything given by lord and lady was kept in reserve to use as loans— the abbot never charged interest, but knew every dirty trick to turn the loan to his advantage, whether calling in the debt early to take the collateral or wheedling favors from powerful people.
When the knight presented his repayment, the abbot gave a hateful sneer. "How could it be that you could repay,/ since your harvest won't be sold for many a day?/ It was not for gold but to take your land/ that I had come up with such a cruel demand!" Back then, people sometimes rhymed when they were excited. The knight dutifully reported what had happened in Sherwood Forest, and how Robin Hood had made a loan to him. While he expected the abbot to castigate him or demand penances, the old priest simply smiled and comforted the knight. "Well do I see that you have suffered great risk and danger to repay me, for which I thank you and God bless you. Go now in peace to your home,"
As soon as the knight left, the abbot quickly ordered his deacons and servants to put together a caravan for far travel, and after a couple of days everything was ready. His procession wended its way through the lone road of Sherwood Forest, and sure enough Robin Hood's Merry Men surrounded it. Just as they had with the knight, they hosted and feasted the abbot and his men, and the following morning "remembered" that the abbot should pay them.
"Alas, alas, bold Robin," said the abbot, "But what little I possess is already dedicated to charity. I have taken vows of poverty, to better enrich the spiritual lives of the abbey.
Robin gave him an appraising look. "If that is true, then you have nothing to fear from me, and you will receive a good donation besides, for your abbey is dedicated to Saint Mary, who I revere among all other saints," He ordered for the abbot's coffers to be opened, and even when the priest suddenly tried to cover the chest with his body, the Merry Men tore it wide to reveal over eight hundred pounds— a princely sum that he considered the minimum for travel. Robin thanked the abbot for such a generous payment, and sent him and his men out of Sherwood Forest— with no horses, no fine fabrics, and no money.
In time, the harvest came, and shortly thereafter the beggar knight returned to Sherwood. His horse looked healthy and happy, his cloak was practical and well-made, and he wore a smile as merry as any of Robin's gang. "Here," he said when he came into the camp "is my rightful debt. I have sold my harvest, and put plenty aside to look after my people. The four hundred pounds you have lent me, I return. You saved my lands, and that is an act of friendship I will not forget or abandon,"
Robin Hood shook his head. "You have no need to pay me friend, for I see you are a man of your word. Saint Mary has blessed us, for she has repaid your debt twice over. Let us both share freely, and enjoy living, then return to your lands and use your money as you see fit.” They drank and danced and sang, their friendship every bit as sweet as the abbot's contempt was sour.
The knight became friends not only with Robin, but with many of Robin's best bandits. There was Little John, a man whose name was a joke because he was so tall and strong. Once, Robin Hood had tried to fight him because Robin often got ahead of himself and took on challenges too big for him, and after they realized they liked each other more than they were mad at each other, they became fast friends and Little John did his best to get Robin out of trouble.
There was Friar Tuck, a priest as sincere and humble as the abbot was dissembling and proud. Though he preferred listening to speaking, he always had a word in defense of the hungry and downtrodden, even when he spoke to the powerful, and for this he had been driven from every institution where he could live among his brothers. Instead, he gave mass and good advice to the outlaws of the woods.
There was William Scarlet, who had a cool cape and could throw swords so the points always struck his foe. He said and did much that would be a bad example to children, so we'll skip him for now.
There was Much, the miller's son, whose father did not believe he could carry on the business of milling, and insisted that Much marry into another family instead. His father did not believe he could choose his own path or live by the work of his hands, and that he would always amount to little. Since little were his father's expectations, he took the name Much in defiance, and did his best to live up to it every day.
They all learned that the knight's name was Sir Richard, and he promised to be a helper to all. In his youth, he had gone on a pilgrimage to Antioch, and learned much about the people and the land there. When the last king, also named Richard, had joined a crusade to invade Antioch and establish a Christian kingdom there, Sir Richard sent his son to use the knowledge from his pilgrimage to help the lowly of either side and keep the war from getting too bloody, and to aid whatever peace may come. Sir Richard told them of how he looked forward to his son's return after such a long journey. He showed off the heraldic design on his shield, a golden hand in a red heart, which had been given to him when he became a knight. Many were interested to hear about the finer points of jousting, knightly oaths, and other things which outlaws have no occasion to learn about, and they all talked well into the night.
Robin Hood and the Moneylender
It happened one day that Robin Hood was going about, spreading some money among the people who needed it most. One man, a serf called Henry, thanked him for his generosity and said "Good Robin Hood, you always rob from the rich and give to the poor. I tell unto you that a very rich man is due to come by in just a day's space, a moneylender who has charged interest on his loans, demanding a little something-something for the privilege of borrowing from him,"
"Is that so?" said Robin Hood. "Then if he is due to come by, so shall I be, for never was there a haughty man whom I have liked well,"
Surely enough, the next day a man passed by. His cloak was expensive and well-made, and on each hand he wore three rings. Upon his head rested a tall cap of the brightest yellow. Before him, all of a sudden, stood bold Robin Hood. "God be with you this day, my friend," he said. "However did you get such well-made rings? Where are you going and whence do you come? And what may I call you?"
"My name," said the moneylender, "Is Benjamin, son of Hamon. I come straight from London on way to Amlater, and I bought these rings by the fruit of my trade. Now if you may step aside, I have leagues yet to go,"
"I will not keep you long," the outlaw agreed, "but give me your rings and fine apparel, for to be robbed by Robin Hood is the fruit of greedy trades as surely as the getting of rings. Quickly now, for there'll be no excuse," Benjamin wept but began to remove his rings. Robin said "Don't fret, my man, for no man has starved by my trade. To a man of wealth, these things are a pittance, and you will surely have many fine things to console you, while those whose these rings will now serve will have been saved from hunger and misery,"
"Alas, alas," poor Benjamin said, "but these are the last of the wealth I possess. The king has declared I must leave the land, without any time to collect my goods. My daughter is under the very same ban, and so to Amlater I have gone to leave with her so we will not be lost and alone. Even this has made me an outlaw, since I refused to sail away without her, and the king's men hunt me,"
"I wouldn't have guessed you were an outlaw, as me. But what was the crime for which King John outrages you?"
"No crime have I done but that I'm a Jew and the law prevents us from most forms of work. That is why I am a moneylender, for Christians swear not to charge interest, and so they can't safely do it professionally. I have lent sums to rich men, even to King John, as have many Jews. But when the time came to repay, he instead decreed that we were all to be banished, whether moneylenders or no,"
At this, bold Robin Hood shook with rage. He had heard many people accuse their Jewish neighbors of evil scheming and bad deeds, but whenever he had gone to get justice he learned that they were no better and no worse than the rest of the folk, and even the most powerful could not match the king for greed and misrule. Despite this, every Jew was treated as the worst kind of person, and the law required that each wear a tall yellow cap so others would know to stay away from them. Robin was so worked up, he rhymed that "No creed and no kind is refused my board/ where wanderers eat well as any lord,/ for my friends and my foes will both freely agree—/ my most powerful skill is in charity," Not only did he return Benjamin's things, but he offered to feed and supply him, and go along with his Merry Men to Amlater to ensure that his daughter would be safe from the sheriff's soldiers.
When they came to the town, their hearts sank. The sheriff had guessed where Benjamin would go, and had already arrived with a platoon of soldiers. King John had outfitted them with fine Spanish coats of mail, halberds of fine Dutch make, and coats dyed with vibrant pigments from Greece and beyond. Some of the very money Benjamin had lent the king had gone to outfit the soldiers who hunted him. Swaggering with pride and full of hate, the sheriff of Nottingham himself inspected the town, looking all over for Benjamin’s daughter.
“I will make a distraction,” said Robin, “and the rest of you must move sneakily and seek young Ruth.” His friend Little John warned him that anything which made the soldiers suspicious would make their job harder, but Robin Hood laughed. “You well know that I do all things in my own way. I cannot help but play my pranks, whether for good or ill.”
A few minutes later, the sheriff was speaking with a nun, the abbess of a cloister where religious women lived apart from others. He was complaining about Robin Hood, whom he hated. “The outlaw always helps people just because I’m oppressing them— he’s literally that spiteful. Everyone says I’m so bad because of my wealth, but Robin Hood is wealthy too! He just uses it to help others and wins their gratitude. I hate him.”
The abbess, who had heard this go on for a long time, said “Yep, well, as I said, we don’t allow Jews in the abbey. Their religion is different from ours and we really don’t like that. There was one woman who came seeking sanctuary just last night, but she is so nice I assume she can’t be Jewish. That’s my worldview.”
“Makes sense to me,” said the sheriff, but then he noticed someone passing them by, a man in a nice cloak with a tall yellow cap. “What luck at last, that’s Benjamin, Son of Hamon. Stop there, Ben! I need to arrest you!” The sheriff chased Benjamin down the road. When Ben ran along a wheeled cart, the sheriff went after, but his weight threw the far end of the cart up in the air, launching the old moneylender nimbly onto the roof of a nearby chandlery. “You’re too nimble for an old man!” the sheriff said.
“Yes, but not for a bold outlaw.” Robin shrugged off the cloak and removed the cap. He had changed clothes with Benjamin before coming into the town! “You carry a bow, but didn’t use it when you thought you could capture an old man and force him to tell where any of his goods may lie. But I’ll wager you’ll string it to shoot Robin Hood.” The two men quickly grabbed and strung their bows and began to fire. Both were expert archers, and they aimed well. But while the sheriff could fire two arrows in the time it took Robin to fire one, as long as he leapt and ran he could always dodge the shots while releasing one of his own. Soon, the sheriff had driven him farther and farther, when he saw his friend William Scarlet. “To the abbey with you all!” Robin called. “And bring Benjamin’s wardrobe, for I know how it will save us.”
“No one will save you, outlaw!” shrieked the sheriff, firing shot after shot. He always called Robin simply ‘outlaw’ because to him there was nothing worse than being a criminal, even when the law was unjust.
William Scarlet swore and took a gulp of whiskey, then ran off to tell the others. Robin continued to trade shots with the sheriff until he had been driven clear out of town, at which point he hid among the trees and snuck along the perimeter, hoping to tiptoe to the abbey. But the sheriff, who had heard what Robin Hood said to William, rallied his soldiers and brought them to surround the abbey.
Meanwhile, the Merry Men and Benjamin, still disguised as Robin Hood, stood in the middle of the abbey, where bewildered nuns watched them open up the trunk of Benjamin’s clothes and start pawing through it for a sign of Robin’s plan. Suddenly, there was a knocking at the door. “Open up, this is a soldier of the king,” said a voice. “We are seeking a certain Jewish moneylender, one Benjamin, son of Hamon.”
“Aha,” cried the abbess, “I guessed one of you might be this fugitive. Come in, come in!” She had sworn a holy vow to give sanctuary to anyone, but she forgot it now. Yet as she moved to unbar the door, another woman swept forward with a candlestick, threw the door wide, and clobbered the man over the head.
“Peace, peace, in Mary’s name,” cried Robin Hood, removing the disguise. But still she struck. Benjamin, seeing that this was his very daughter, bust into rhyme: “Oh daughter mine, release Robin Hood,/ as true as Abram and brave as Ehud./ He judges no man by his color or creed,/ and knows the true proof is in word and in deed.”
She immediately dropped the candlestick and hugged her father, relieved to see him alive. Benjamin sheepishly introduced her as Ruth, Daughter of Sarah.
Friar Tuck said “It’s well enough for outlaws such as us to go about in fear for life and sure of help for none. But these people are civilians, innocent of our rebellion against the corrupt. How can the people of England sleep sound in their beds when their countrymen are hunted like rabbits?”
Much the miller's son, who knew something of the unearned contempt of men, said “King John says these people are not their countrymen, and people believe him because they practice their own faith among their own people and ply their own trades. One day soon, a king may decide to confiscate the wealth of all the abbeys and monasteries, and he may succeed because of the same reasons.”
Little John said “I’m more concerned with today— it’s scary enough. We’re surrounded and outgunned, and after using the disguise trick twice, Rob, I doubt the Sheriff will fall for it a third time.”
“That’s just what I’m counting on,” Robin Hood said, distributing Benjamin’s extra tall yellow hats.
William Scarlet smoked a cigarette to steel his nerves, but it just made him sicker. "I don't like it when you get such a wild look, Rob. It usually means extra servings of danger for the rest of us,"
Outside, the sheriff was organizing his soldiers into a tight web of death. One called "There goes the moneylender!", pointing as a man in a yellow hat dropped from a window and ran for an alley. "Another disguise!" the sheriff called. "You two, after that Merry Man. Everyone else, keep your post.” In quick succession, more and more men in yellow hats appeared and scrambled from the abbey, and the sheriff gave the same orders. When all was chaos, the sheriff saw two figures slipping out of the back of the church, one in lincoln green and another wearing a nun's habit. "You'll not trick me, outlaw!" the sheriff growled. "Everyone, converge on yonder pair!"
Leading the charge himself, the sheriff grabbed the nun's arm. "You've run long enough, Benjamin. Freeze right now, or your daughter is doomed,"
The man in Lincoln green stroked his short beard and drew his sword. "You're right, the time for running is done. Much?" Much, the miller's son, smiled like a sea dog and twisted the sheriff's arm, so that instead of holding Much in place it was wrapped around his own back.
Realizing that Robin Hood, disguised at last as himself, now held a sword to his throat, the sheriff had no choice but to order his soldiers to hold and retreat. Once the Merry Men, Benjamin, and Ruth were together, they snuck off into the night, leaving the sheriff tied to an old oak tree for his soldiers to find later.
Finally safe, Robin Hood congratulated Benjamin and Ruth on their daring, and offered them membership among the ranks of his forest gang. Ruth explained that they felt they had a chance to help others who had been persecuted by John's decree, and so they planned to travel elsewhere, reconnect with their people, and try again. She knew that all over Europe, similar laws were made from time to time, and their safety would depend in large part on the whims of whatever king or pope ruled over them. But though they wandered, they held fast to those principles which mattered to them.
Robin Hood said "Then if you must go, take a gift from me to help you on your way— rich gold and fine goods worth much in any port. Any people and any nation can raise its tyrants over its honorable folk. It has even happened in the land of England, which I love so well. Though I honor Mary and you honor Jacob, let us share a hope that for all the conquerors in the world there will be lovers of justice; for every Nebuchadnezzar a Cyrus, for every Hezekiah a Moses, for every Caesar a Cincinnatus, for every Alexander a Socrates, for every Hitler an Einstein,"
"And for every John, a Robin Hood," said Ruth, to which her father added "Fare well, until we meet again in peace," and they departed. They never did meet again, for the ban on Jews lasted a very long time, and Robin died before his long quest for justice could be fulfilled, but for the rest of their days all were glad to have met each other.
Robin Hood and Saint Dunstan
One day, Robin Hood and his Merry Men were distributing coins to the poor, the spoils they had taken from a corrupt baron after tricking him into thinking their burnt bacon was the famous Tongue of Saint Bittel. As the serfs thanked him, Robin Hood realized that he wasn't just glad to help, but that he exulted in their praise, was happy that so many people relied on him, and was altogether self-satisfied. He began to wonder if he had grown overproud, or if he still robbed the rich for the noble reasons he set out to do, so on the way back to Sherwood Forest he rhymed to his friend Little John “Think you it may be that I’m just a phony/puffed up and stuffed up with phony bologna?/ Might it be my acclaim’s just from my life-lot,/ That I think I’m so great when I’m actually… not?”
"How can you say that?" asked Little John. "You do so much for the people of Nottinghamshire and all England. So what if you're a little proud, a little fond of violence,"
"By Mary, am I too fond of violence?"
Friar Tuck nosed in and said "In my professional opinion as a priest, I would say that you're on the right path, Robin. Charity and a love of justice are needful things. But if it will set your mind at ease, I know of a test you can undertake to remove all doubt. The saint Dustan was a master of the forge, it is said, and made horseshoes to repel curses, locks to thwart thieves, and other fine tools. Most impressive were arrowheads forged by the saint's own hands, which were said to be so pure that only a truly righteous person could even draw them back in a bow, but that everything he hit with them would be blasted with the force of a hundred arrows,"
"That would be a great honor, to use such potent arrows," Robin Hood said, trying to sound humble. "Where are these arrows kept?"
"I don't know of any certain places, but it's said that Saint Dunstan lived as a hermit outside Canterbury. Perhaps we can find a sign of one of Dunstan's arrows there,"
And so the band travelled to the town of Canterbury, eschewing its grandiose cathedral for an old hut well outside of town. At first it seemed like no one had lived there for decades, but William Scarlet spotted a bit of smoke rising from a crooked chimney. That meant that someone was keeping a fire, and so carefully they crept up. Robin Hood cracked the door and peered within, seeing two men. One was a muscular man with long hair but a beard that had been singed away. A circle of light glowed around his head, and he held the other man's nose tightly with a pair of red-hot tongs. The other man had a wild expression, with cynical, mocking eyes and clothing very fine but worn. The tongs which held his nose burned him badly, and smoke filled the hut with the stink of sizzling skin.
Robin leapt to free the man, but William Scarlet held him back. Will had been at the back of the party, afraid of embarrassing himself by swearing or chewing with his mouth open in front of the saint, but as soon as he saw the second man in the hut he darted forward with uncommon speed. "Robin, don't! That's no mortal man but the Devil himself! When I've drunk too much or gone too long without good fruit and veggie, I've dreamt of him. Neither trust or aid him, by your love of me,"
"Your friend is right," said the man with the singed beard. "For many years now, I've held the Devil by my tongs to spare the world of his wickedness," Indeed, on a closer look the old smith seemed tired beyond reckoning, his muscles tensed so long they no longer sweat, only his eyes bright and tense.
"I trust you, Will, my old friend," said Robin Hood. "But who are you, smith, and how did you come to reside in Saint Dunstan's hovel?"
"I built this hovel myself, over three long years," the man said. "I am Dunstan, saint if you say, so there is no more fitting person to call this place home," The whole party was surprised, but the more they spoke with him the more sure they were that he told the truth. Robin Hood explained that they hadn't expected to find him in person, but that they were looking for one of his famous arrows. Dunstan sadly told him that he had only made very few arrowheads, preferring to make more peaceful things. He would happily have made Robin such an arrowhead, but he could not smith anything, no matter how simple, as long as he held the Devil by the nose, and so he must refuse.
Robin saw how tired his long vigil had left the saint, so he said "What if I took your place for a while? Not only to make the arrowhead, but for a day at least, so that you can really rest and enjoy yourself. It's no less than you deserve,"
Saint Dunstan hesitated, but he was a fair judge of character. "Well, I suppose that would be alright. But only for a day. Holding the Devil's nose is more work than it seems, and is less pleasant than anything I would ask anyone to do," He made sure Robin had a firm grip of the tongs before stepping away. After taking but two paces, the saint smiled wide. When he stepped out into the fresh air, where sunlight warmed his face, he laughed and wept. What others had taken for granted, he savored as though the common joys of life were new to him. He thanked Robin and headed into town to take mass at the cathedral, which as a saint was something he had dearly wished to do since he first caught the Devil.
The Merry Men made their camp around the hut, and while Robin was alone with him, the Devil laughed. "Release me, and I will make you a very rich man, even a king," Robin said that his greatest wealth was in charity, and riches had no lustre to him, though he didn't speak of difficulties and lean nights they sometimes endured in Sherwood Forest. "Release me, and I will give you the love of anyone, make you desired.” He said the love of the Holy Mother was all he required, and that was beyond all demons' powers, though he didn't dare mention Maid Marian, a woman he loved deeply though she was of noble rank and therefore nothing between them was possible. "Release me, and I will make you a warrior more powerful than Lancelot, more frightening than Blackbeard, and more impervious than Achilles," He said that there was more to life than killing, though he did not give voice to the great thrill he felt in the duel, the chase, the clash. Robin Hood always said the right thing quickly in answer to the Devil, but each offer made him think of what he lacked and what was wrong with him. He realized the Devil wasn't truly trying to tempt him, but to mock him. Resolving to keep silent in the face of the offers, he nevertheless kept responding, finding the thoughts they conjured too upsetting.
The following day, Dunstan came running back to the hut. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He called. "Bless you all for your fidelity,"
"How was the mass?" asked Robin, trying to conceal how hard his vigil had been.
"Most wonderful. Nothing heartens me more than to be among those who share my faith in such a fine cathedral. The archbishop, it seems, is the descendent of a brother I loved very much in my own time, Brother Sigelgar, and he is very close to like him. Truly, you have given me a great gift, all that I could hope for. I'll fire up the forge and make your arrowhead, your fitting reward," But as he began to heat up the furnace, Robin saw that Saint Dunstan was completely changed, a man humming with energy, and saw that there was still much the kindly old man might do with a reprieve, and so he offered to hold the Devil's nose a bit longer while the saint enjoyed himself. While Saint Dunstan at first resisted, at last he admitted that the archbishop had asked him to give a sermon on fortitude the following day, and after all he would accept the offer, so long as Robin was sure.
On the second day, Robin had the gang throw wide the windows of the hut so that he would see them talking and playing in the sunlight, and thus be heartened. But the Devil looked out too, and he was unimpressed. Though he said nothing, Robin marked that to the Devil, all their jokes and happiness which he was so proud of, for which he had named them his Merry Men, was foolish and silly. The food they shared, which usually seemed ample and much, was shown to be simple and rustic. They huddled close when the cold came, and had no hearths, no houses, no hometowns. By Mary, had Robin made them poorer than serfs when he had convinced them to join them on his mad and endless quest? He had kept a few peasants from starving, but had he made anyone truly secure? What did he have to show for it, other than sweat and blood? He had led his gang into suffering and sorrow, and that meant he had betrayed them. Robin Hood held the tongs fast, but they were heavy in his hand.
That night, Dunstan again came running, thanking them effusively. He talked at length about the joy of sharing a sermon after all these years, about the great respect all the priests and layfolk had for him, and about a rutabaga pie one of the parishioners had made for him. As he started up the forge to make Robin's arrowheads, the outlaw was suddenly very afraid. He didn't want this magic arrow to show how cowardly, how selfish, and how stupid he was. He didn't want to let his friends down. So again he talked Saint Dunstan into taking one more day off, with himself as a close guard to keep the Devil in check.
All that third day, one or other of the Merry Men would visit with him and offer to take his place for a while, sharing in the burden of his charge, but Robin Hood didn't want to see them, and felt guilty to imagine them going to even more pains simply in pity of him. He sent them away. In private, the Devil spoke. "You may think I'm the cause of all evils," Robin said nothing. "Have you thought about how evil rules in your fair England. All the years I've been trapped here, kings have robbed from the poor and given to the rich. Hypocrites have infiltrated every institution of charity and collective action to stop them from helping anyone. All of the west is at war with all of the east, and soldiers will fall in lands far from home, their bodies never to return. All these years has Dunstan held me, and it has never done anyone any good. Robin Hood's grip almost slipped from the tongs, but at the last moment he redoubled his strength. Perhaps it was useless. Or perhaps it was another trick. But either way, he could not betray the faith his new friend Saint Dunstan had placed in him, even at the cost of his fame and friendship when it became clear that he couldn't fire Saint Dunstan's arrow. So he held on until Dunstan returned.
The saint looked guilty as he led the Merry Men into the hut. "I'm very sorry, Robin Hood. I did no great or holy deeds today. I spent much of it just napping, feeling the warm air and the cool breeze, in the shade of yonder tree, which was but a sapling when I was a boy. I loved life but did nothing with it, all while you suffered here,"
"As well I would wish you," Robin said, some of his fierce personality returning. "It was for your rest and reward that I took this vigil, and I am glad you spent it in the way that made you happy," He frowned as Dunstan began to feed the forge to make the arrow, and offered to hold the Devil's nose for another day, but nothing would dissuade the saint, who said he had already done so much for him. In very little time, Dunstan had a fresh arrowhead for Robin. He reached to take the tongs at last from him, and for a moment their eyes met. Robin Hood saw in Saint Dunstan's eyes total wisdom, total acceptance, total understanding. Those eyes seemed to say "It was hard for you. It was hard for me too. In my mind, you are just as good as me," As Dunstan slowly and firmly took the tongs from Robin, the outlaw thought that it might be true, but realized it was yet another thought of pride. The old man put so much faith in him but he didn't understand Robin at all.
At the Merry Men's constant cajoling, he walked out into the field. They pointed out a boulder, and bid him fire the holy arrow at it. He knew he would be unable to draw it, and that it couldn't be fired with the force of a hundred arrows. Not by him. Still, because there was nothing to do but try, he nocked the arrow onto the bowstring. Pausing, he felt the warm air and the cool breeze, and saw the world as Saint Dunstan had, a treasury without reserve. Robin Hood drew the arrow back. And then he fired it.
The boulder cracked in two with a tearing roar like thunder that filled the valley, and all his friends gave a mighty cheer. They lifted him on their shoulders and paraded him about, proud to see what they already knew— that Robin Hood was a truly good man. How he himself could not have seen it three days ago astounded them. Little John could not think of him without thinking of his tireless hours in service of his fellow men, or the tender look on his face when he thought of Maid Marian. Friar Tuck admired his moral clarity and humility. William Scarlet looked on him and thought of a man who lived every day in the hopes of making it his best. Much, the miller's son, remembered how Robin had taught him to shave, to fire a bow, and to keep his anger against cruelty from becoming meanness to his friends and contempt for the common folk. And every other member of his band saw something else in him, something true and good, and because they knew him well they spread the tales and stories of his life long and far for all their days, and for that reason he is known even in this modern age.
Robin Hood in the Park of Death
On the first day of May, Robin Hood and his friend group were out hunting for a unicorn. They had heard that the best way to find one was for a maiden to sing out to it and let it rest its head on her lap, but they were more interested in testing their skill than certainty of success, and so they spread out, looking for tracks and spoor that would show which way a unicorn had gone. Robin Hood was on his own deep in the woods when he noticed tracks in the mud, horse hooves where no horse should have been wandering, especially because these tracks made it seem like the horse was unshoed, larger than most horses yet far lighter than any he had seen.
Following the tracks, Robin jumped when he realized that he was only a few paces from a massive brown bear. Her fur was just the right hue to evade notice. An experienced woodsman, he was not afraid of the bear but knew that one could be dangerous if surprised, especially if her cubs were near. He backed up softly, then at a safe distance made a noise to alert the bear to his presence so she wouldn't be shocked to see him. Expecting a wary growl or for her to yawn and wander off, she just looked at him sadly and whimpered.
Sensing something amiss, Robin came closer. He saw that her leg was caught in a trap, a set of metal jaws staked to the ground by some hunter. It hurt her badly, the jaws piercing her thick hide and digging into her flesh.
"It's hard to see such a noble creature suffer," said Robin, "even if you are dangerous to have for an enemy. Still, let me at that trap and I'll see what I can do, eh?" But when he approached, the bear swiped with her long claws and kept him at bay. "Ah, the pain has frightened you. I understand," Slowly, so as not to scare her more, he took a thin and sturdy branch and carefully extended it, letting her sniff it curiously and then working it into the mechanisms of the trap. Familiar with their workings, he felt carefully for a release latch, then pressed down on it with the branch. The teeth shot open, and the bear gave a roar of pain but at last was free. Robin began to make his well-wishes and farewells.
Suddenly, he saw a tail flick as something galloped past, its chestnut-gold fur disappearing into the undergrowth. Chasing it at top speed, he drew bow and arrow, knowing it would soon outrun him and he would be lucky for even one shot. To his surprise, the foliage suddenly gave way to a small gully, a steep ditch that the creature nimbly leapt across. Glimpsing the horn that grew from the creature's head, Robin saw it was a true unicorn and knew that if he hesitated, he may never see it again, and so he jumped across the gully to chase after it.
Upon landing, his footing gave way and he sprawled among the plants of the opposite side of the gully. Looking around, he saw that the side of the gully he had jumped to was actually several feet shorter than the side he had jumped from, and the walls of the gully were far to steep and regular to have been made by the natural erosion of rain. What's more, the steep side was covered in roses, so it looked like a vibrant red wall. Robin had heard of parks, private reserves made by nobles with such sloping walls so that any deer who jumped into it couldn't jump out, but he had never seen or heard anything to do with such a barrier of flowers. "Alas, by the Blessed Mother," he said to himself, "I have always taken Mary as my patron saint and sought to do good in her name. The rose is one of her greatest symbols, which is why I never harm one that I find in the woods, unless I should pick it for a worthy friend. But to climb the slope would damage many roses, so I am trapped until I can find some other means of escape,"
Walking a ways, he came to a clearing full of lime green moss that hand grown over some ancient standing stones. Once he was half-way to a stone, the moss began to shift underneath him, swirling like a massive tarp carried by an army of ants. He quickly jumped onto a fallen stone, and was amazed to see the moss rise up like a wave. Crashing forward, it struck his arm as he raised it to swat the moss away. Immediately, the arm went loose and numb, as though all the blood had left it. Rolling back, Robin ran in the space which the most had vacated to reach another stone, this one a tall pillar standing upright. With difficulty he climbed— his numb arm refused to move as he bid it. The moss followed, slowing sliding up after him. When he reached the top, he looked about for any way to save himself. In the distance there were tall tents set up— some noble's hunting party perhaps— but he saw nothing within shouting distance until he looked down again. So much of the moss had slid to the pillar that almost the entire clearing was empty of it, and Robin saw a small, clear pool just a few feet away. He jumped as far as he could and just barely landed in its deepest part with a crash. With all speed, he swam to the far edge of the pool and started to run, heedless of the branches that whipped and whizzed into his face and arms. Some of the leaves were razor-sharp, and some caused an awful itch, but running at full tilt, he quickly left the evil moss behind.
When he felt he was no longer being followed, Robin Hood slowed to a walk and caught his breath. He was alone with his face cut and an arm poisoned and useless, in a park with such creatures as he had never seen. He still carried his bow, but couldn't fire it with just one hand. He wasn't wearing his sword, but had a trusty trail knife at need. Grinning at the danger, he began to make his way towards the noble's tents he had seen from atop the pillar, and it wasn't long before he ran into a trio of women, all finely dressed, out hunting with their falcons. "Halt, ladies, I think I see some quarry in the bracken," said one.
"I am no quarry," said Robin, emerging with a polite bow. "I am a humble forester, and it seems I have gotten turned around. Might you show me the way out of this park,"
"I recognize you!" said one lady. Her dress was green and her eyes were fiercely perceptive like her falcon's. "Aren't you the outlaw, Robin Hood, infamous poacher and robber?"
Getting a better view, Robin recognized her. It was Maid Marian, the ward of the king, whom he loved. Though he knew she was fond of him, he felt anything between them was doomed. When he asked someone to join his merry band, he always offered because he thought it might make things better for them, to live free among friends. But if he would ask the same thing of her, it would mostly be because he wanted it, and he couldn't ask her to leave behind title and privilege, honor and attendants, for his own sake. "My reputation precedes me, it seems," he said. "But I mean none of you harm. What may I call you?" He pretended not to know her, because if the wrong person knew she was friends with Robin Hood, she would be in peril from the king.
"Robin, there's no time for pretending. These are my ladies-in-waiting and I trust them unto death. This is not an ordinary preserve. It's the king's Park of Death, where he keeps the most dangerous and strange wildlife from beyond England's shore— the Crawling Death of Kabul, the Blood Moles of Hamburg, Spanish Sphinges, Tarentella Spiders, Dracula Vines, and other totally deadly threats. And the king is here with many armed men, hoping to hunt the elusive unicorn. You must climb out of the park and make a run for it,"
"I cannot scale the walls," Robin said. He had never seen her so serious. "My oath to the Holy Mother prevents me from harming a flower, save that I pick one for a worthy friend, and the slopes are covered in roses,"
Marian nodded. "They were planted to keep the Crawling Death in the park, since it fears the smell of roses. But the bridge our hunting party crossed has been retracted by the king's servants on the other side. You'll have to—" A handful of men crashed through the woods from the camp. They were led by Guy of Gisborne, a close friend of the king. From boyhood, he had been raised by his father, Lord Gisborne, to be a master of weapons and bushcraft. His family had usurped the lands of Loxley and Barnesdale Woods, where Robin's mentor, Old Man Wood, had taught him all he knew about woodsmanship, archery, and swordsmanship. Guy thought of Robin Hood as a constant embarrassment on his family's good name because they never managed to hang him, while Robin hated Guy for ruining his home and dispersing the people who had raised him.
"Get behind me, ladies!" Gisborne called, drawing his sword. "That freak is a famous outlaw," Knowing that negotiation was useless, Robin gave a final bow before running off into the woods. "Alright, get back to the camp," said Guy, scanning the undergrowth. "He looked all cut up and injured, so it's only a matter of time before the blood moles catch his scent," Maid Marian gave a wistful look where Robin had disappeared, wishing she could help him. Though she knew he was fond of her, she felt anything between them was doomed. She wanted nothing more than to be free among friends and equals, to live by her skills and do good for others. But how could she burden Robin with her middling abilities, when he risked too much to do right by her people? Why would he love her if she no longer had title and privilege, honor and attendants to dazzle him?
After Robin ran for a time, he came to a small hollow in a tree that he thought might make a good hiding spot. Resting to catch his breath, he tried to rouse his injured arm, but it was totally numb. As he held still, he saw strange disturbances in the dirt— the soil was getting pushed up in meandering lines, like a straw being inserted into a flat straw wrapper. They seemed to follow the path he had taken, and specifically went to each spot where blood from the cuts on his face had fallen, as though connecting the dots. They followed up to the very edge of the tree's roots, and Robin held his breath, Whatever this was, he was not in a good state to meet it. But the disturbances halted, without getting any closer. Robin wondered if the furrows could somehow only sense blood which had fallen on the ground, not the roots. Carefully, quietly, he wiped some blood from his face and flicked it onto the ground a few feet away.
Monsters burst from the ground! Resembling moles with their branchy noses and massive claws, their mouths were like a wolf's and their back legs like a rooster's, with scabs and pumps and wicked spurs. Spotting Robin in the hollow, they scrabbled forward to tear at his flesh. More by reflex than anything, he kicked the first one, then immediately tried to climb up the tree. There was a horrible scratching sound as the blood moles started to clumsily chase him up, their claws scraping into the wood and scarring it.
An expert climber, Robin's injuries were catching up with him. He could only use one hand, blood was starting to drip into his eyes, and he was exhausted by constant effort. He howled with pain as one of the moles caught up and chewed through his boot, helpless to stop it before reaching a large branch he could use as a platform. Trying to shake it off, he at last retrieved his bow and used it as a pole to knock the mole off. Seeing he only had a few seconds, he looked about for the next place to go. There was another tree not too far off, so he gathered his breath, steeled himself, and jumped.
Almost falling, he caught a branch and with effort hoisted himself up. The moles could not jump half as far as him, but they started climbing down and then up this other tree. It seemed Robin couldn't jump down and run in time before they would be right behind him, so he gathered his strength again and jumped into the next tree over.
Again and again, he jumped from tree to tree, growing more and more exhausted each time. The moles showed no signs of slowing, and his tired mind could think of nothing else. It was inevitable that eventually his strength would fail him and he would fall far, landing at the base of a tree that had been a little too far away. His ankle twisted, Robin drew his knife and prepared to make a futile last defense.
As the first mole leapt for him, a bear roared and batted it away. As more came, she stood over an astonished Robin Hood, shredding them with her powerful claws. Soon enough, the rest fled in search of easier prey. "Since I once helped you, so you've helped me," said Robin Hood, still not quite believing what had happened. Leaning down, the bear licked his face with her rough tongue. It's said mother bears shaped their young with warm licks, transforming them from just a bundle of fur into a fully-shaped bear cub. We now think it's a myth, but for all that Robin's wounds hurt him a little less and finally started to dry, and the blood was wiped from his eyes. His arm was still numb and his ankle still twisted, but his hope was restored. Their eyes met a final time, and the bear walked away, its debt repaid.
While all this had been happening, Guy of Gisborne had mobilized the king's hunters. Keeping a scream of bodyguards around the bewildered king, he led the best woodsmen and foresters out to capture Robin Hood or else to find his remains. They moved carefully, not seeking him out directly but establishing a perimeter so that he would have nowhere to run when they found him. He was far more cunning and more practiced in the woods than the sheriff of Nottingham, and while he was capable of venal cruelty it was always to a practiced purpose— the death of his enemies and the advancement of his own ambitions. While he led the bulk of the party out and almost everyone else was guarding the king, no one noticed as Maid Marian slipped out into the park alone, and over the din no one heard as she began to sing.
When Guy's party found Robin Hood leaning against a tree, the lord affected a casual air. He whistled as he carved up a little wooden figure, walking over to the outlaw. "Oh hey, I didn't see you there," he said. "Truly your rustic skills are on display today, Rob. It's so clear that Old Man Wood taught you all his tricks,"
Robin Hood smiled weakly. "More tricks than you may guess. You don't know it, but my Merry Men have you totally surrounded. You're actually my prisoner,"
Guy of Gisborne laughed. "That doesn't make any sense. You can't fool me with such a pedestrian trick. I'm no loser fool like the sheriff of Nottingham,"
Robin sighed and said "No, I suppose not. I don't suppose you'll let me go if I give you this?" he said, offering an empty hand. "I'm holding Philosopher's Gold. It's incredibly valuable, but stupid people can't see it. If you're really thick, you can't even feel—"
"Enough of these gay amusements," said Guy. "I'm untrickable. Now, it's time for you to die and me to kill, my fated foe,"
"Look out!" cried Robin Hood. "A unicorn,"
"That's the most pathetic trick I've ever heard," said Guy, as Maid Marian astride a chestnut-gold stallion, its opalescent horn catching the light as it ran, trampled over his limbs and body, totally wrecking him. She helped Robin onto the unicorn and urged it onward. In a few moments, it came to the wall of the park and jumped easily over the incline, harming not a single rose.
"You've saved me, but how?" asked Robin.
Maid Marian laughed, elated to have done it all so easily, and without Guy of Gisborne seeing her face. "I did it the old fashioned way. I sang to the unicorn to call it, let it rest its head on my lap, and explained our great need,"
They rode until they found a camp of Merry Men, where Marian helped Robin dismount, ensured he was in capable hands, and quickly rode back to the camp so no one would notice she was missing. Thanking the unicorn and promising never to forget its help, she feigned concern for the injured Guy of Gisborne and discussed the strange happenings of the day with the king. Despite all that had happened, Robin still had no notion of the yearning for adventure in her heart, and she still had no idea that he would have thought she was a great asset to his band.
Robin Hood and the Hearthfire Conspiracy
One day, Robin Hood and his friends were walking abroad in the country when they came upon a crowd of people, common folk like serfs and hunters and woodcutters— families carrying their meager belongings, not travelers well-equipped for the road. They were hungry and clearly out of their element, so the Merry Men hosted them, fed them, and sought to learn what had happened. Each family's story was the same. King John had extended a special privilege to the church, a high tax they were allowed to collect on that particular family, to be paid in coin. Each time, the deacons had said that the tax was levied because the family tended a fire in their hearth which had been kindled by foreign folk. Indeed, most of the wandering crowd freely admitted that their ancestors had come from overseas, and so their hearthfire probably was kindled by a Norman or a Saxon, but they had no clue how the church had learned of this, what cause had made it suddenly so important, or how they were to pay the tax. Few had much coin on hand in the best of times, and so they had been forced from their homes.
Doing what he could for the bewildered people, Robin Hood only learned more when his friend Ann arrived from London. She was a handmaid of Maid Marian, and sometimes carried messages between her and Robin. But today, her arrival was a message in itself— she had been thrown out of the court for failing to pay the hearthfire tax. "The sheriff of Nottingham is about," she said, "prowling for those he can arrest for vagrancy. Marian told me that the king sought to relieve some of his debts to the church by selling a privilege to the Bishop of Ely, this ridiculous foreign hearthfire price. But I don't understand how they can tell. I was born in Germany, it is true, but most of the people targeted have lived in these lands for years and years, many all their lives,"
Friar Tuck said "The church keeps many records. It has made itself the center of writing, copying, and study. Perhaps they have studied histories and cross-referenced them to find people to tax,"
"That cannot be all the story," said Robin Hood. "I have listened closely to these people, and see a second pattern. The tax always falls on those the Bishop wants to drive away— those whose homes he covets, whose business might compete with his own, whose loyalty is to another figure. Ann, have any of the bishop's supporter's, or the king's, been subject to this tax?"
"By mercy, no," she said, realizing the secret purpose. "Only myself and a few others, none friends to those in the highest halls of power,"
"Then here is what we do, my friends," said Robin. "I have heard of a hermit who lives in the wilderness off the road to Salisbury. He is renowned for two things— his miraculous age and his unimpeachable honesty. I believe he is called Serlaunsel, or something like that. It well may be that the old man knows the true history, and we can check it against the bishop's story. Truth can't banish lies without good people to fight for it, but good people can't banish lies without the truth to guide them.
As they traveled, Ann was constantly troubled. The circumstances that led her from Germany to England were hard to think about, and had never been fully in her control. So she had always tried to look forward, and had won friends and done good that way. Now her new world was telling her that it didn't care what she did, that she would always be the helpless youth unable to make her own mark. Seeing her apprehension, the Merry Men tried to comfort her. Robin talked with her about their mutual friends, William Scarlet sang amusing but horrifically uncouth songs, Much, the miller's son, brought her fresh fruits and candied nuts, blushing has he handed them to her, and Friar Tuck spoke, as though to no one in particular, about the universal comity of all people— the idea that everyone was as close as siblings, if we were just willing to see it.
In time, they found the hermitage where the old man Serlaunsel was rumored to stay. They had expected humble accommodations, but the place was positively archaic, resembling more a burial mound than a home. Rather than a bed, there was a worn pallet under a small pavilion, and there, on his knees, was the hermit, making a prayer of penitence, asking divine forgiveness. His hair and beard were frizzy and unkempt, so it looked like his face emerged from a big cotton ball. His chest was broad and his limbs well-shaped, but wrinkles and scars marked that he had lived a long and hard life.
Not wanting to interrupt the old man's prayer, Robin started to wander towards the door of the mound, but the old man abruptly sped up his words and leapt to intercept him, giving a hasty "amen," Robin introduced the party and explained why he had come. The old man said "Yay verily, I know the history thou describeth. Before the Normans came the Saxons, and before the Saxons the Romans, and before the Romans the Celts, and before the Celts the Picts, and before the Picts the Giants. There is none by my trothe who may rightwise say that his line sprung up in these lands, before from distant lands arriving," When they asked him to make his report in London he said "Nay, it cannot be so. I have the life of hermitage chosen, to swing not the sword and in politics not meddle, for I hath sinn'd full-sorely, and by living simply do make mineself right with the LORD,"
Robin blinked, considering what to do. He had no idea how to convince this strange man of anything, most especially when it came to this idea of being a hermit, which was obviously important to him. And yet, he had a good mind for adventures and never let one strange detail distract him from the one before it. Without saying anything, he ran to the door of the burial mound and flung it wide. There, he saw an old set of armor rusting where it lay, silver spurs, and a shield painted white with three red diagonal stripes. “In Mary’s name,” cried Robin, “but I know who you are.” His mentor growing up, Old Man Wood, had taught him stories of the knights of old, their heraldry and their deeds. “Argent, three bends gules— these are the arms of Sir Lancelot, of legend.”
“They were,” said the old man ruefully. “Before my crime mortal. I my friend betrayed by loving his wife in secret, my jealousy nursing until all England was rent by our fight. The king’s son cruel the chaos used to his father usurp. My friend did die and I was shamed, and so penitence make e’re I may live.”
"That is well enough," said Robin. "Yet what you know may be the salvation of many,"
"Well, we can't be having that," said the sheriff of Nottingham, leading a gang of cops up from the crest of a nearby hill. "We set out to catch Robin Hood and the foreigner Ann, but this dangerous dotard makes three. Have at them!” Some of his officers started firing arrows at the Merry Men, while others charged forward, sharp swords in hand. Robin’s bow was in his hand in an instant, and he fired one, two, three shots before a charging cop was upon him. His final shot bounced off his cap, and the officer was so dazed by the impact that he barely noticed as Little John hefted him over his should, swing him around, and launched him into the sheriff’s archers. Lancelot fell to his knees in prayer, but Ann and Much, the miller's son, grabbed him and hurried him into the mound where no stray arrow would take him. Preferring to menace a harmless old man to daring Robin Hood, the sheriff pursued them but was stopped by William Scarlet, who nimbly rolled into his path and threw a succession of daggers at him. The sheriff was wearing a cloak given to him by Guy of Gisborne, a fairy cloak that no iron could touch, and so the daggers fell away without harming him at all. “I don’t fight fair,” the sheriff boasted, then slammed the hilt of his sword onto Scarlet’s head. Because William Scarlet never wore a helmet, it badly hurt him and he fell to the ground, unconscious.
Despite their feats, the Merry Men were outnumbered as more and more constables came over the hill. In the mound, Ann grabbed a sword from the wall and held it out to Lancelot. “For your own life, you must fight!” But he shrank from the weapon as though she had told him to grasp fire. She saw in him a man consumed by sorrow and shame, and knew that he would rather die than use violence to save his own life. As the sheriff advanced, Ann saw Robin aiming his bow for his heart. Shouting out, she said “His cloak repelled daggers thrown point-blank! He’s invulnerable!” As the sheriff snickered, advancing on her and Lancelot, Robin shrugged, altered his aim slightly, and sent off two shots.
“Ow! Ow!” The sheriff’s face went pale. Robin had shot the heels of his boots, sticking them to the ground. Struggling to step forward, the sheriff found he was stuck in place. Being of gentle manners and hoping to one day regain her position as a helper to Maid Marian, Ann couldn’t bear to stab the sword into the helpless villain, so she took up Lancelot’s shield and smashed it onto his head over and over as Much, the miller's son, led Lancelot out and back towards safety. Little John scooped up William Scarlet with the grace and care he possessed in equal measure to his size, and the Merry Men acted as a rearguard, giving a fighting retreat that might discourage the cops from following.
All save one. Robin by this time stood atop the mound, laughing merrily as he fired arrow after arrow. Little John shouted a warning to his friend, but bold Robin was heedless of danger or necessity. Finally, as the constables started to encircle the mound and climb it from all sides, Friar Tuck broke from the rearguard, swinging his quarterstaff to and fro to make a corridor to reach his friend. Together they resisted, but even when Robin ran out of arrows and had to fight with his sword, he wouldn’t heed Tuck’s urging to flee. An arrow grazed his rib and he kept fighting. A knife skinned his knuckle and he smiled. A blade punctured Friar Tuck, and suddenly the gravity of his danger rushed back to Robin, his laughter dying in his throat. Death threatened from every direction now. To one side, he heard the sheriff freeing himself from his boots. To the other, some of the Merry Men had given up on guarding their retreat, rushing back to risk their lives in saving him. And at his feet, Friar Tuck lay, breathing in ragged gasps. With a grunt, he kicked Tuck’s attacker down the mound, then hoisted the monk over his shoulder and charged for his friends, barely noticing as blows rained down upon him. Robin was barely able to stand by the time he reached the Merry Men, and remembered little of their frantic escape, running far out and away from the Salisbury road, into the wilds where they could not be easily pursued.
Robin Hood woke one morning feeling as though he had slept for a year. Tending to his wounds was Lancelot, who had mastered the herb and poultice in his long self-exile. “You are helping us, but you won’t fight. Why?” asked Robin.
The old man’s eyes began to glisten with tears as he recalled something he seldom let himself think about. “A time there once was, that I ten men’s strength had, for I was pure of heart. Still do I love the good, but when last I the sword took up, my friends I hurt and no good did. Deep my regret and sore my sorrow, and to make amends I set aside the sword.” Then, as though admitting a secret, though it was something Robin had heard in the many stories about the knight, he added “I set aside the sword. Though once it gladdened me. And though all acclaimed me, for the skill of my arm. But the sword can never overthrow war.”
Robin said “Some wars are worth fighting.”
“Wouldst thou know?” barked Lancelot, suddenly angry. “Thou fought upon the mound for the love of fighting. In my day, we war waged to bring the cross and rod to pagans and strange lands. Yet never did peace come. Even to this day, thine Richard King roams in countries distant to bring the cross and rod by blade and fire. Yet never will peace come.” And the old man hobbled away, leaving Robin Hood to his thoughts.
After some time, he found Friar Tuck and apologized for endangering him needlessly, but the priest was quick to forgive and told him that he would not have followed Robin into the life of an outlaw if he didn’t think the man was worth risking his life for. Tuck also shared that he had convinced Lancelot that there was a difference between engaging in politics and simply providing relevant information, and so the hermit had consented to come with them to London to share his knowledge of history.
When all were well enough to travel, they took a roundabout route to reach London, to reduce the chance of being found by the sheriff’s constabulary. Everywhere they went, the found more people suffering because of the Hearthfire conspiracy. Many were reduced to beggars, or shut up in debtor’s prisons. In some places, friends of the bishop of Ely used new privileges to extract useful favors from those menaced by the threat of being declared foreign. Elsewhere, leaders in the church had refused to turn on their neighbors, and there was a rumor that the Abbot of Canterbury was writing a petition to the pope asking for a formal renunciation of the hearthfire tax privilege.
When they reached London, Lancelot pointed to a tall building, with gibbets and cages hanging menacingly from it and asked what it was. When they told him it was the Tower of London, where all the most important prisoners were jailed, like noble captives, inconvenient heirs, and wealthy hostages, he wept and told them that the tower had once been a place of joy, its spacious rooms given over to all King Arthur’s animals as a sanctuary and preserve, where even the poorest citizen, even if she had lived in the city all her life and never known nature, could meet other minds than human and learn about the diverse beauty of the wide world.
Lancelot began to weep again as they passed by a park. Where once the magic Sword in the Stone had stood, a promise to everyone in a time of chaos that a just law was coming, now was a menacing gallows, where enemies of the crown were executed. Of late, most of their enemies had been those who couldn’t pay this hearthfire tax. Though he didn’t say it, Ann sensed that he was sad not only because things had changed for the worse since he has last been in London, but because he felt all the poverty, corruption, and tyranny was ultimately his fault, because he had unbalanced the kindly court of zking Arthur.
At last they came to the palace, where at Lancelot’s request for an audience with the king they were allowed inside, such was their respect for the holy man. But when they came to the throne room it was empty. Lancelot began to shake. The Table Round, Arthur’s proud symbol of the equality of all people, had been cut in half and stacked upon itself to make a high platform for King John’s throne.
All throughout the city, the bells began to ring. One by one, soldiers swept into the galleries on either side of the throne room, and emerging from behind the throne room was Guy of Gisborne, wearing a fairy cloak, fairy shoes, and a hateful grin. “The king has decided he doesn’t need to give an audience to such foreigners as you,” he said. “Do you want to get into your prison cells yourselves, or do I get to drag you in?”
Robin Hood began to respond, but Lancelot gestured for quiet, and he obeyed. The old man studied Guy’s gleeful face and all the soldiers surrounding them, thought about what they were planning to do, what they had already done, and what they were already doing. Suddenly, he saw that what he had been calling penance was mostly a way of being sorry for himself and had done nothing to heal the people and land he had wronged. Lancelot knew why it had taken him so long to realize. He had been heartbroken, and focusing on what he had done wrong and how much he had lost felt like taking responsibility and facing facts. Punishing himself had felt right, even as it let wrong creep over the land.
“Much. Miller’s son. My sword, please.” The startled outlaw handed it over, having grabbed after Ann dropped it in the hermitage mound. Lancelot nodded to his new friends and said “The people tell what thou hath learned. This wrong must ended be.” Testing the blade’s balance, he found it fit perfectly into his aged grip as though he had used it every day of his penance. Charging forward, he rhymed “No longer have I strength of ten,/ no more more pure than other men/ but I will yet win what I can/ with just the strength of just one man.”
Immediately, the soldiers were broken. Though no longer supernaturally strong, Lancelot was still the greatest warrior anyone there had ever seen. And yet, his body quivered as he delivered the titanic blows, and Robin saw that he was sacrificing everything to fight as once he had. While Lancelot held Guy of Gisborne’s soldiers at bay, the rest fled from the throne room. Ann broke off from the rest, seeking Maid Marian and wishing them luck.
When the Merry Men emerged from the palace, they were surprised to find a huge mob of people— the largest group yet that had been displaced by the conspiracy. There were Normans with their ribboned hair and Saxons wearing fine quoit brooches and Romans with their carrying poles and Celts with their shoelaces tied in intricate knots and Picts with their stone-headed arrows, and even a few giants carrying their favorite boulders. Apparently they were fleeing a massive army led by the Sheriff of Nottingham, and had come to plead for mercy from the king.
Ann caught up with them, following close behind Maid Marian who placed a scroll in Robin’s hands. As he read, his eyebrows raised. At about the same time, King John himself emerged from a high balcony of the palace. His mantle was gold-trimmed samite, lined with the finest ermine fur, his hair was beautifully arranged, and his expression was impatient. “Fine people, our countrymen,” he drawled. “We have heard there are many who have defied the church’s legal right to extract a small fee from the foreign hearths among us. At the bishop’s request, I have agreed that any who have not already paid are to be imprisoned until a relative can clear their debt.
At this point, the sheriff’s army marched triumphantly into the city, and the people were surrounded. To make matters worse, Guy of Gisborne emerged from another balcony. “The hermit Lancelot is dead! I have killed the world’s greatest knight. Now the name of ‘Guy’ will be a byword for distinction!” Some in the crowd knew much of Lancelot, but most knew some, and they could not believe such a deed was worth boasting about. They had heard of mistakes, but his good work and virtues were what had made his name. Many hung their heads and cried.
Robin Hood thought of what to do. He looked to the bow, then to the scroll. Realizing the way to save them, he finally locked eyes with Maid Marian and realized she had the same idea. He handed the scroll to her, knowing the plan would only work if she used her good reputation and relationship to the king to its utmost.
A short time later, Maid Marian emerged from yet another balcony. “Treason!” she called. “Treason! Treason!” Every eye was on her, especially those of the fickle and proud King John. “I have uncovered a bold conspiracy against my uncle the king, and though I am just a woman I must name it.” Robin Hood noticed how skillfully she deflected any possible suspicion. Though the king was not literally her uncle, as the previous king’s ward she created the perfect excuse to speak. And by saying she was “just” a woman, she reminded John of how little he expected of her. A king of many prejudgements, he would never guess that she was Robin Hood’s most powerful ally, and couldn’t believe she would act against his decrees. She unfurled the scroll. “On this scroll, we see the fruit of a plot against the royal family, one that brings an army into the very streets of London— the Hearthfire Conspiracy!” She pointed at the sheriff’s forces. “The Bishop of Ely and the Sheriff of Nottingham have tricked King John. By his latest decision, all who have not yet paid their tax are to be imprisoned? What can it be but treason when the sheriff is to imprison… the king himself!” She read aloud from the scroll, which was a family tree of King John himself. It described all his ancestors and relations, and showed that the king’s father, Henry the Second, was born in Anjou, in France. John himself was more “foreign” than most of the people he had gone after.
John was aghast. Of course he had never paid the hearthfire tax. Had he really given an order to imprison himself? Had he been somehow manipulated? He saw Normans fiddling with their ribbons and doubting him. He saw Saxons reaching for long knives hidden under their brooch-clasped coats. The sheriff of Nottingham looked back and forth between Romans hefting their carrying poles and Celts tightening up their knots. Guy frowned at the stone arrows of the Picts and the heavy boulders of the giants and wondered if his fairy cloak would repel them.
At last, King John pointed at the sheriff and cried “Arrest the traitor!” He would decide later if it was more convenient to blame the man or not. Suddenly the army was in much confusion, and the Merry Men were able to slip out, but not before Robin Hood was able to discretely thank Maid Marian for saving the day.
In time, political exigencies forced King John to reverse the hearthfire tax, and all the people of England were relieved. Ann was restored to her station, but unfortunately so was the sheriff in time. The body of Sir Lancelot was given a funeral with full honors in respect of all the good he had done before being interred at an abbey on the western shore of Cornwall, so he could await the return of Arthur, his greatest friend. Though at last he had learned balance between the need to fight and the need for peace, it was a lesson Robin Hood had only begun to learn, and in time he would pay dearly for it.
King John and the Abbot of Canterbury
One day, King John was hosting the abbot of Canterbury. While both enjoyed fine foods in many courses, fine entertainment, and other good things, the roles of guest and host were important parts of the social order. The king's followers had all sworn personal oaths to him, and ruled their land in his name. His reputation for generosity was absolutely necessary to maintain his rule, which was why his great greed had caused the rebellion of men like Robin Hood. His troubles had made him more paranoid and more dangerous, for he had that much more to prove.
So, as the final plates of desert were taken away, and as the fires burned low, the king turned to the abbot, the coals reflected in his eyes, and said "We have heard from some of my lords that you keep a far better house than us," Being a king, he spoke in the third person, an affectation the kings of England had inherited from the Roman emperors, who had gotten it from Julius Caesar. "Since you see fit to embarrass us, we must assume you plan treason against our crown,"
'Not at all, your grace!" said the abbot, dropping to his knees. "I have only spent my own wealth generously,"
"It may be so," purred the king, relishing his fear. "And so a test of three questions I will give to you. The first— when I am sat upon my very best steed in my very best clothes, how much to the penny am I worth? The second— how long will I ride about in the world? The third— what do I think? Answer each question right, or your head will be taken from your body." The questions were calculated perfectly, each a trap. If the abbot said he was worth too little or that he would be done riding in the world too soon, the king could claim it was an insult and punish him. But the more valuable and the longer living, the harder it would be to guess. And as for the third question, the king could always lie and say he had been thinking of something else. The abbot gave the only reply that would save him.
"Your grace, my shallow wit is not equal to these wise questions, as yet. But if you will but give me three weeks to pray and ponder, I'm sure I can find the answers," It made no difference to the king to wait three weeks, and so he granted the small request, since he was so merciful. The abbot rode to every university and spelling bee he could find, but no one knew how to answer the king's questions in a way that would save the abbot's head from being taken from his body.
At last, Robin Hood heard of it by chance as he was walking to Sherwood Forest one day. Remembering the good reputation for generosity the abbot had, and how he had been a host to Robin’s friend Saint Dunstan, the outlaw decided to help him. He met with a shepherd who looked after his flock near Canterbury and offered to trade clothes with him. Soon enough, as the abbot was riding forlornly to the abbey, Robin called out “How now, brother abbot? Why look you so glum?” The abbot explained his dilemma, that if he could not answer three impossible questions his head would be taken from his body, and Robin said “father, have you never heard that a fool can teach a wise man wit? Let us exchange our clothes, and I will go to face the good king’s questions.” The abbot was overjoyed, and very grateful to the brave shepherd. He helped Robin to tie on his robe and coached him on how to speak and dress, and when the deadline came Robin Hood bowed before the king himself, and no one recognized the infamous outlaw.
“The first question— when I am sat upon my very best steed in my very best clothes, how much to the penny am I worth?”
Robin said “For thirty pence our savior was sold/ amongst the false priests, as we have been told./ I’m sure twenty-nine is the worth of thee/ for I think you’re but one penny worse than He.”
John was astonished. “I swear, I swear, I swear by Saint Bittel./ I did not think I was worth so little.” But not even he could claim to be worth any more, for fear of blasphemy. “The second question— how long will I ride about in the world?”
Robin said “If you rise with the sun and track it along/ and follow the sun for all night and day long,/ how could your grave have any doubt/ that ‘twas twenty four hours you rode it about?”
The king again felt he must accept the answer. He closed his eyes hard and imagined selling Somerset to the king of France, knowing that if someone accused him of planning that, he could kill them right away. “The third question— what do I think?”
Robin removed the abbot’s hat and said “That I will do and will make you so merry./ You think I’m the abbot of Canterbury/ but I’m just his servant as you can see,/ and I beg your pardon for he and for me.”
King John was so surprised, he had to laugh and laugh and couldn’t work up his anger. He offered Robin Hood and the abbot total amnesty, and even established a weekly payment of tuppence to this strange shepherd. And that is how Robin Hood became an outlaw no more, at least until he stole the sheriff of Nottingham’s horse the following week.
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