Robin Hood by J. Walker McSpadden (big screen ebook reader TXT) 📖

is good,” the palmer protested, “and mine is ragged and torn. The holy church teaches that thou should’st ne’er laugh an old man to scorn.”

“I am in simple earnest, I say. Come, change thine apparel with mine. Here are twenty pieces of good broad gold to feast they brethren right royally.”

So the palmer was persuaded; and Robin put on the old man’s hat, which stood full high in the crown; and his cloak, patched with black and blue and red, like Joseph’s coat of many colors in its old age; and his breeches, which had been sewed over with so many patterns that the original was scarce discernible; and his tattered hose; and his shoes, cobbled above and below. And while as he made the change in dress he made so many whimsical comments also about a man’s pride and the dress that makes a man, that the palmer was like to choke with cackling laughter.

I warrant you, the two were comical sights when they parted company that day. Nathless, Robin’s own mother would not have known him, had she been living.

The next morning the whole town of Nottingham was early astir, and as soon as the gates were open country-folk began to pour in; for a triple hanging was not held there every day in the week, and the bustle almost equated a Fair day.

Robin Hood in his palmer’s disguise was one of the first ones to enter the gates, and he strolled up and down and around the town as though he had never been there before in all his life. Presently he came to the market-place, and beheld thereon three gallows erected.

“Who are these builded for, my son?” asked he of a rough soldier standing by.

“For three of Robin Hood’s men,” answered the other. “And it were Robin himself, ‘twould be thrice as high I warrant ye. But Robin is too smart to get within the Sheriff’s clutches again.”

The palmer crossed himself.

“They say that he is a bold fellow,” he whined.

“Ha!” said the soldier, “he may be bold enough out behind stumps i’ the forest, but the open market-place is another matter.”

“Who is to hang these three poor wretches?” asked the palmer.

“That hath the Sheriff not decided. But here he comes now to answer his own questions.” And the soldier came to stiff attention as the Sheriff and his body-guard stalked pompously up to inspect the gallows.

“O, Heaven save you, worshipful Sheriff!” said the palmer. “Heaven protect you! What will you give a silly old man to-day to be your hangman?”

“Who are you, fellow?” asked the Sheriff sharply.

“Naught save a poor old palmer. But I can shrive their souls and hang their bodies most devoutly.”

“Very good,” replied the other. “The fee to-day is thirteen pence; and I will add thereunto some suits of clothing for that ragged back of yours.”

“God bless ye!” said the palmer. And he went with the soldier to the jail to prepare his three men for execution.

Just before the stroke of noon the doors of the prison opened and the procession of the condemned came forth. Down through the long lines of packed people they walked to the market-place, the palmer in the lead, and the widow’s three sons marching firmly erect between soldiers.

At the gallows foot they halted. The palmer whispered to them, as though offering last words of consolation; and the three men, with arms bound tightly behind their backs, ascended the scaffold, followed by their confessor.

Then Robin stepped to the edge of the scaffold, while the people grew still as death; for they desired to hear the last words uttered to the victims. But Robin’s voice did not quaver forth weakly, as formerly, and his figure had stiffened bolt upright beneath the black robe that covered his rags.

“Hark ye, proud Sheriff!” he cried. “I was ne’er a hangman in all my life, nor do I now intend to begin that trade. Accurst be he who first set the fashion of hanging! I have but three more words to say. Listen to them!”

And forth from the robe he drew his horn and blew three loud blasts thereon. Then his keen hunting-knife flew forth and in a trice, Stout Will, Lester, and merry John were free men and had sprung forward and seized the halberds from the nearest soldiers guarding the gallows.

“Seize them! ‘Tis Robin Hood!” screamed the Sheriff, “an hundred pounds if ye hold them, dead or alive!”

“I make it two hundred!” roared the fat Bishop.

But their voices were drowned in the uproar that ensued immediately after Robin blew his horn. He himself had drawn his sword and leaped down the stairs from the scaffold, followed by his three men. The guard had closed around them in vain effort to disarm them, when “A rescuer” shouted Will Stutely’s clear voice on one side of them, and “A rescue!” bellowed Little John’s on the other; and down through the terror-stricken crowd rushed fourscore men in Lincoln green, their force seeming twice that number in the confusion. With swords drawn they fell upon the guard from every side at once. There was a brief clash of hot weapons, then the guard scattered wildly, and Robin Hood’s men formed in a compact mass around their leader and forced their way slowly down the market-place.

“Seize them! In the King’s name!” shrieked the Sheriff. “Close the gates!”

In truth, the peril would have been even greater, had this last order been carried out. But Will Scarlet and Allan-a-Dale had foreseen that event, and had already overpowered the two warders.

So the gates stood wide open, and toward them the band of outlaws headed.

The soldiers rallied a force of twice their number and tried resolutely to pierce their center. But the retreating force turned thrice and sent such volleys of keen arrows from their good yew bows, that they kept a distance between the two forces.

And thus the gate was reached, and the long road leading up the hill, and at last the protecting greenwood itself. The soldiers dared come no farther. And the widow’s three sons, I warrant you, supped more heartily that night than ever before in their whole lives.