The story hunter

I have somehow a knack of running against men who, without being notable, have still something in their composition which makes them conspicuous among their fellows. Such a man was he from whom I obtained the following story; for it was told me first by my informant vivâ voce, and afterwards corrected by him, with an ancient quill pen, which had a habit now and again of spattering the ink, after the fashion of a pyrotechnic display, wherever there happened to be any roughness of the paper. He loved the antique, and lived a long way in rear of the times; quill pens were natural pens, he said, and he would have nothing to do with the modern steel rubbish, as he disdainfully termed our great up-to-date invention. His house, furniture, and clothes were antique, and so were his very person, face, and figure.

He was short, thin, curved, and drab. I say drab, because no other colour will so well describe his complexion, which was of a parchment hue, and of the same leathery texture. Small slits of eyes, a hooked nose, wide mouth with thin lips, hollow cheeks, and a broad and high forehead; that was the facial appearance of my learned friend, the antiquary.

I met him near Birmingham, whither he had been to purchase a bundle of old books, with which he was wearily toiling onward to his village home. He sat by the roadside on a grassy bank with his treasures, girt about by a strong leathern strap, by his side.

Being a very hot day, the old man had a large red bandana handkerchief in his hand, with which he patted his perspiring face. I asked him, by way of obtaining an opening for a conversation, if I was on the right road to Coventry, whereupon he informed me that he was walking to Meridew, a distance of twelve miles along the road to Coventry, and if I would give him a lift he would act as guide.

I obliged the old man, although I knew the road perfectly, having travelled the district before, but, as I love companionship, I thought it a good opportunity for indulging my hobby.

I found the old gentleman excellent company, and on arriving at Meridew, discovered that he owned a very pretty, little, old-fashioned house standing in its own grounds. Being both good talkers, and our ideas running mainly in the same groove, my new friend invited me to spend a few days with him, and I gladly availed myself of his kind hospitality.

The story of “Robyn Hode in Winter” he had discovered at an old book shop at Coventry, and was lucky enough to become owner of the precious document, for the insignificant but handy coin yclept a shilling. He had read and re-read the old parchment so many times, that he had quite got it by heart, and so much had it engrossed his mind, that when I put him to sleep one evening he reproduced it vocally, as if he were reciting it to an audience.

He had at different times discovered other very curious documents, copies of which he pressed upon me, and some of them I may, at a future time, venture to inflict upon the indulgent public.

ROBIN HOOD IN WINTER.

I, Roger Aylmer, clerke to ye Abbot of Croweland Abbey in Lincolnshire, doe hereby sweare that what I herein do write is ye fulle and whole truth and nothing but ye truth of my seizure by ye outlawe Robyn Hode, and that which I do heare write is to prove to ye Abbot of Fountaines Abbey in Yorkshire, that I dyd to ye best of my mighte and courage, seek to protect ye goodes belonging to him from ye rascally outlawe; which sayd goodes were in my keepynge when they were by force y’parted from me.

In October 1196 Our goode Father ye Abbot (of Croweland) dyd receiue from Fountaines Abbey, an order for certain goodes to be sent thither, to wit: six score yardes of Lincolne cloth, three score yardes of scarlet cloth, certain rolles of leather and sundrie other goodes.

I was sent offe with four serving men and two yeomen, to whom, partly, we looked for sustenance on our way, as the forests of Nottingham Shire and Barneys Dale doe abound in many and gret dere, which be ye Kyng hys property. Nevertheless, ye Kyng being away in Palestyne fightynge ye Paynim, men doe take of hys dere withouten leve.

Our traine dyd consist of six mules, bearing ye goodes, and seven others which dyd beare myself and my menne. Ye weather being clere and colde we dyd make right goode waye, passing safely thro’ the forests of Notts wyth but one mishappe.

At a lowe parte in a woode we dyd com upon a boggy place, near unto which was a gret pool of water, engirdled rounde about with rushes and eke with tall redes, and thynkinge it might be goode to water our mules there, we dyd caste about for a patheway, to lede to the sayd water, which anon we dyd find.

The yeomen led ye way, but we had not far advanced when a gret wild boare, with horrid snortyngs and squeals dyd attack one of oure mules, and although both yeomen with their longbows dyd fill him with sundrie arrowes, yet dyd he not desist from his bellowing and goreing. Then straightway dyd ye bowels of ye mule gush out upon ye grounde from ye tearing of ye crewel tarshes of ye boare.

Seeing this, one of ye serving men dyd thrust thro’ the boare hys bodie, a great spere, and fixed him to ye earthe; nevertheless no manne dare venture near, so gret was ye rage of ye furious beast. Then dyd ye serving men set upon him and overcame him, so that he preasently dyd dye, and from hys carcase we dyd make a fulle hearty meale.

Ye mule which was y’stricken ded, was that on which we dyd carry our cooking gear, the which being packed upon a freshe mule, he dyd rebel at ye noise of the tinne and copper pottes and pannes, which as he dyd gambol and kicke dyd make much dullor, till the mule being tyred with his prancynge did act more peacefully and get him gone quietly.

Anon we reached ye forest of Barneys Dale, which as alle menne know is ye chiefest haunte of that rascal outlawe, Robyn Hode and hys menne.

Entering into ye forest my menne dyd beg me to goe around, for feare we might mete with ye bold robber, to which I dyd reply that “Were it in the days of summer, ye name of Robyn Hode might scare even me; a manne of much courage and stomach for ye fighte; but it being the wintertyde, I cared nought for hym, as he woulde be hyding in some snugge village on ye craggy moors. I woulde therefore hie me thro’ ye forest, without let or hynderance, and see what manner of place Robyn dyd love, and that with mine owne eyen.”

Into Barneys Dale we rode right merrilie, one of ye serving menne playing blythely upon his sackbutt, y’whylst I dyd sing songs most lustilie, soe that when we dyd join our voices in chorus, the foreste dyd helpe us greatly to swell ye sounde, which dyd echo and ringe against ye gret bowes and bolls of ye trees. Thys dyd we to keep in goode hearte, and while we dyd thus divert ourselves, it being towards ye houre of noone, we dyd com to a gret cliffe, near which dyd grow manny noble trees, and at ye feet of ye cliffe dyd laye a mass of tangled underwood and a faire barne or storehouse.

As ye winde dyd blowe somewhat sore, and ye gret cliffe dyd give shelter therefrom, we dyd alite from our mules, intending there to dress our victuals.

Finding a patheway or loke to ye foote of ye cliffe, we dyd secure its shelter and lited us a fire, which was thereby screened from ye colde winde. Then dyd we perceive that ye cliffe was full of gret holes and caves, some of which were stopped uppe with rough bordes of wode against them, which dyd make us marvel what might be behinde them.

Then did we guess what they mought be; and some sayd it maye be soe and soe, and others sayed it is thys or that, till one sayd it maye be ye hiding-place of Robyn Hode, in ye faire tyme of ye yeare, but others sayd no, it is a place for woodemen and they who doe mynd cattel.

But one of my serving men being curious to knowe what was within these caves, dyd with hys handes begin to pull downe some of ye boardes, ye which dyd make a kynd of doorway, whereupon came an arrow, which dyd pin hys hande to the woode, and he dyd cry out in gret payn for us to release him.

Then ran forward Thomas à Boston, one of ye yeomen, to give succor, but whan he dyd put forthe hys hande to plucke out the arrowe from hys comrade, straiteway flew anoder arrowe, which smiting him on ye face, dyd pierce his two cheekes, soe that ye feathers of the arrowe were wet with hys bloude.

Anon came a loude voice which alle might heare, though ye speaker no manne coulde see:

“Stande alle! Upon ye erthe your weapons throwe.”

Thys we dyd, when there advanced into ye lytell open space before ye caves, a stalwart man y’clad in green clothe of goode pryce, having in his hande a long-bowe to which an arrow was notched. At his right side he dyd weare a goodlie sword, and from his left shouder hung a crooked horne. He hadde on a mantel of sad color, but of thicke texture, to keepe him from ye inclemency of ye weather.

“Who seeke you here?” he cry’d. “Why brake you downe in wantonness ye dwelling of a poore forester?”

Then dyd I answer him and saye—

“We be but poore wayfayrers halting on our way to cook our store of victuals, and dyd but mene to peep into the caves, to see if aney manne dyd dwell therein this winter of the yeare.”

Then dyd ye manne, with a gret oathe, declare that never dyd he see a poore traveller wend his waye through the forest with such goodlie retinue and beastes, and that he must firste enquire into my state, before I went thitherfrom.

With that he tooke his bugle and dyd blowe a lusty blast upon hys curled horne, and anon came a reply from far awaye in ye foreste.

Then ye bold robber, for we dyd guess it was Robyn himself, dyd set him on ye gnarléd root of a gret tree and waited patiently; and soe perforce dyd we, being afeard of ye man. Nevertheless, I dyd gaze my fyll upon ye bolde outlawe before me, and marry, he was a right sturdy fellow, tall, and of a proportionate bignesse of lymbe, comely of feature, and with a swarthy visage, hys hair and beard of ye sloes colour, and eke had he the eyen of ye falcon; a very proper manne was he and in hys pryme.

Anon as we dyd gaze upon him, and he at us, he dyd put to us sundrie questions, which we dyd answer him very civilly. As he dyd thus question us, and no man dyd come to the sounde of the robber’s bugle, my other yeoman, Robert Baldrow, dyd rise up and saye to Robyn—

“Fellow, why doste thou stop peaceful travellers? Thou arte but one manne and I another, and a staffe in my hande is as goode as one in thine. Have at thee, knave!” and straightway he dyd springe before Robyn, quarter-staffe in hande. Whereat Robyn set an arrow to his bowe, makyng as if he would shoote, at the which Baldrow dyd cry out, “A knave! a coward knave!!”

Then dyd Robyn droppe his bow and to it they went right merrile.

My manne Baldrow’s bloode was uppe, and eke was it downe, for Robyn dyd give him such sounding thwacks, that the bloode did run adoune his cheekes and drippe from his chin. Robyn, too, got manie a knock which was harde, and his blacke bearde was rede with blode alsoe.

Bothe dyd swat greatlie, and blowe them like unto oxen, till Robyn by a swingyne blowe, did bring Baldrow downe upon the grounde, where he did crye lustelie for mercie.

While thys fighte dyd last, many great and lyttle men dyd hedge us arounde, till there were quite a score and a halfe of them, and he who appeared to be their leader was in stature ye largest man my eyen dyd ever lite upon. When he stode besyde Robyn, his shoulder was a fulle ynch taller than Robyn hys head; nor was he a thin wastreyl of a manne, but proper and strong withall, and of about ye same age as Robyn Hode, who dyd say he had y’seen thirty and fyve summers.

While the fighte dyd last, my four serving men, who be doubtless arrant knaves, dyd steal away with four of ye mules layden with sundrie goodes, which Robyn percevyng, he dyd secretly send hys men in searche of them, and in goode time they dyd bring them backe, and deliver them bound to Robyn.

Then Robyn swore a gret othe, that he had never met such scurvy knaves, and did cause them to be bound with cordes to the trunks of fallen trees, with their faces downwards. Then did foure of hys men belabour their breeches with pliable saplings of ye ashe tree, till their strength gave out, when the gret giant, whose name I did afterward find to be Lytell John, did tell the whipped varlets to begone. But so sore were their hams that they dyd but stir at the snail hys pace, makynge y’while loud and sundry bemoanings, and walking in muche variety of postures for they were sore hurte.

My mules were meantyme kindly treated, for their burdeyns were released from them, at which I dyd not much joie, for I dyd knowe right well ye character of myne hoste. The food stuffe for our sustenance was taken by ye robber band, and putte in gret yron potts, beneath which fires were lighted, and in but smalle tyme a goode meale was spred before us alle.

They were a motley crew, and many of them dyd looke like unto beggars (for tatters and dyrt) their clothes being very ragged and olde. Many wore gret bands of hay round their legges to keepe them warme, and to fend off ye wet from ye bracken and underwode.

They were not dressed as I had heard tell, alle in Lincolne greene, although a few of the head menne among them dyd dress their lymbs in that cloth, namely, Lytell John, George à Greene, Raynolde Greenleafe and a lyttel man y’clept Muche who was sonne of a miller. Some sayd he was y’clept Muche because he was so lyttel, but he was a jolly manne withal and was foole or jester of ye party, and dyd keep them all in goode humour lyke unto ye jester in ye Kyng hys court.

Another pretty manne was y’named Will Scadlocke, but as he dyd dress hym in scarlet doublet, his comrades did name him Scarlett, from the colour of hys dress. Many dyd weare buff leather jerkins and brown hose, as it was ye tyme of winter when alle is browne and bare, but quoth Robyn, “In the spring we do don our green raiment like to the leaves of the forest, so that ye dere with their glittering eyen cannot so readilie see us.”

Dere were not in plentye, but these bold foresters did make nomble pies of their entrails, which they did salt in gret tubs during the summer. It was a humble, but alsoe a toothesome dysh, when seasoned with sweete herbes.

Robyn hys menne dyd attend to my two wounded menne, and dyd place them on softe couches of bracken, which dyd lie hid in the caves. Me they dyd lodge in a gret barne of wattle and clay, which dyd afford me good shelter. Thys in ye summer was the resorte of cowherds, who dyd here keep their store and eke slumber, driving in their cattel in stormy weather.

In this shed or barne dyd stande much store of victuals for keepe of ye robbers who dyd remain with their leader through the inclemency of wintertyde. Floure and porke in barrels, pickled herryngs from Yaremouthe; beanes, onions, and carrotes; beere and cyder in fayre casks were in gret plentie, all of which store was sent in by ye farmers for many myles around that Robyn might exempt their cattel, menne, and goodes from hys seizure.

Robyn, goode man, dyd place alle my goodes and chattels in one of his caves, that they might be safe from hys comrades, and that no manne might take from them.

Next daye it dyd snow, and everything was covered from sight, and alle assembled in the barne where they had buylt a woode fire, round which they dyd sitte and laye as they liste. Some dyd sing songs, and Muche, the lytell miller, dyd play them many tunes on hys pype, while another merry fellow dyd beat lustily on a tabour or drumme, and thus dyd they beguile the time away right joyouslie, whyle harmony dyd prevail; but ye said harmonie dyd not laste longe, for one gret quarrelsome rascal dyd grumble that the ale was too bittere with horehound, and some sayd it was a righte goode brew, whereupon they fell to jangling, and the manne who was of gret stature dyd challenge any one to crack his sconce with a bout at quarter-staffe. Another manne, who was of the brede of the greyhond, did thereupon rise uppe and tackle him, and atte it they dyd goe for the full space of an hour; by which tyme he who was of slender form, had lent his foe soe many and sounding thwacks that the bigge man was fain to crie, “A goe!” and soe ye battel ended amyd muche laughter.

Then goode Robyn dyd saye let us to some more songes and then early to couche; for to-morrow is Christmas Daye. Then was a gret cup brought in and filled to the brim with meade, which being a noble drinke, was but for Robyn and me, Aylmer, his guest.

It was goode liquor, and we dyd sup it deeplie, when Robyn thinkynge to fleer at my priestly garb, dyd aske me, “Coulde I wrastle,” and I being a lytell in my cups, dyd reply that I could wrastle any outlawe that was ever borne, though it was manie yeares since I had played a boute.

Then dyd we wrastle before alle assembled, and they present dyd laugh heartily to see the figure I dyd cut, being of great girth. Howbeit I dyd styk to Robyn, and by a lucky chance dyd roll him over and dyd sit on his backe, to make mirth for those present; but Robyn dyd not laugh atte alle, being angered that a priest should thus him overthrow; soe when I dyd let him uppe he dyd run at me with gret vengeance in hys eyen, and he soe smote me on the stommick that I dyd pante right mightilie.

Then was I also an angered manne, and having a strong arme dyd requite Robyn with a gret blow of the nose, which dyd blede an it were a runlet of goode rede claret.

To make peace, “Long John,” as I dyd hear Lytell John sometime called, dyd com betwixt and dyd part us, and we ware carried off, each to hys bed in a separate cave. So ended the Vigil of Noel.

The morne of Christmas Daye was one which dyd smile over the erthe wyth gret brightness, and alle were astir betimes, and many went divers ways into the woodes to seek for dere. They took but their bows and speares in their handes, leaving the frieze covers of their bowes at home, as there was no damp in the frosty air which might shorten their strings.

Robyn was very surlie, for he had gotten two blacke eyen, and his nose was swollen and red like to ye haws which are sent for birdes food in winter. I was much afeared of the manne, thinkynge he might doe me some mischief for a revenge for ye blowe I had placed upon hys nose, but we dyd shake hands and were friendly, and being Christmas Morne, he woulde have me goe into his cave chambre and pray for him, which I dyd. Althoughe an outlawe hys menne doe say he is of pious mind, praying to ye Blessed Virgin at alle seasons, especially in tyme of gret peril.

When we had our prayers sayd, Lytell John dyd roar out with gret pain, saying that his tooth dyd ache sore, and so it dyd prove, for no manne dare go near him, so greatly dyd he rage. Then he cryd for some one to pull it from his jawe for hym, but no manne dyd offer, tyll home came Wayland, who had of olde tyme been a smyth, and used to the handling of implements.

Lytell John dyd throw himself upon ye plancher in ye barne, and foure of the strongest men dyd houlde him dowen.

Then dyd Wayland bring forthe hys tools, which he kept in a leathern poke, for many a jobbe dyd he for the companie. Lytell John’s eyen dyd roule muche when he dyd see the iron pincers, which Wayland dyd bring forthe from the poke, but they being made for horse shoeing were too large for his mouthe, and woulde not worke therein, although it was a large one.

Then Wayland founde him a smaller pair, and with them went to worke agen, upon which Lytell John dyd roar and struggle mightilie, but they who held him being strong men he coulde not get free. Wayland dyd again try, but being used to rough work dyd not set to worke skilfullie, whereupon Will Scadlocke, who had now returned with two hares whych he had shotte, dyd attempt to get out the aching tooth, and with such address dyd he set to worke, that in but a few minutes he dyd drawe it forth triumphantlie.

Then they dyd waken Lytell John, who had fallen into a kind of trance (in whych he did groan), by rubbinge his face with snow and putting ice on ye nape of hys necke.

Soone came home ye merrie menne, some with doe meat and some with a gret dere they had slain; while Peter the falconer dyd add toe the store, two ducks and a fine guse, at which there was great rejoicynge.

Three menne still were to come home, and their comrades dyd look for them anxiously, fearing they had been taken by ye menne of Murdach, Sheriff of Nottingham, but in tyme they came back bringing three gret pikes, which they had snared in the river, beside gret store of perch, which they had netted without asking leve of anney manne.

Guards were sette to the right and left of the campe, and fires y’made, at which were dressed gret diversitie of dishes, and atte duske the feaste was spread in ye barne. It was a feaste that woulde have graced the Refectory of Crowlande Abbey, albeit it was served uppe in a somewhat rough manner.

Fish, fleshe, and fowle of all kinds were there, and cyder and ale in plentie, so that each manne dyd eat and quaff and sing and laugh, till he coulde no more.

Then dyd they sitte and laye around the bigge fire and tell stories of their deeds, which dyd shock mine ears exceedinglie.

By the fyrelight they dyd look a very desperate sett of menne, ye more so when they had drunken of the goode rede wine, which Robyn had caused to be broached.

Robyns nose grew redder as he dranke, and hys eyen being black he dyd look most curious. Lytell John dyd have hys jawes in a slyng, as hys cheeke was some deal painful after his toothe hauling. My yeoman, Robert Baldrow, whose cheekes hade been shot through, was a silent manne, for his mouth was bounden in a clothe through a hole in which he dyd suck up some brothe through a hollow bunke.

Howbeit, for these lytell drawbacks, each man dyd enjoy himself greatly, and dyd sing or daunce according as he was him capable, and ye merriment was kept up for a gret many houres till many dyd drink themselves to sleep, and their comrades dyd cover them with deer skins and bracken, for fear they might be freesed, so colde was ye night.

“Not oft,” sayd Allan-a-dale to me, “do we have these galas, onlie now and again, else myght the crewel Sheriff of Nottingham worke us some ill.”

For several dayes more dyd Robyn keep me hys prisoner, and on onne day I dyd see some of their famous archerie.

On New Yeres Day, Robyn, Lytell John and Scadlocke, had matched themselves to strike as many arrows into a marke as any six of their comrades. Thys wager was accepted by Much, Greneleafe, Allan-a-dale, my man Thomas à Boston, Reginauld Foxe, and one they called “Humpy” from his crooked backe.

A hare skin was stretched on a hoope of wode and placed as a pryke for them to shote at, at a distance of eighte score yardes, and each manne was to shote a score of arrowes at ye marke.

Robyn, Lytell John, and Scadlocke dyd shote first, and of their three score arrows, a score and seventeen dyd stryke the marke, though Robyn dyd not schote well, hys nose being as bigge as two, and was in hys way when he dyd schote, so that but ten of his arrowes of the full score dyd strike ye mark.

Then dyd Much and his menne in turn shote at ye marke, and of alle their six score arrowes, two score and three dyd pierce ye skyn, whereat there was much shoutynge and laughing by those who dyd behold, and Robyn dyd look him ruefully to see ye prize, which was a flagon of yelow wine, drunk by lytell Much and hys men.

On the 2nd of January, my yeoman being recovered of his woundes, Robyn dyd give me leve for to goe on my waye. Whereon I dyd thanke hym and ask for my gear, at whych he dyd laugh him outrighte in my face.

“Nay, Master Monk,” sayd he, “ye traveller must paye for hys fayre. Have I not kept you and two menne and alle your mules these ten days? Come quit thee hence, and thy gear I will keep in payment for thy victuals and bedde.

“Come, begone! and a right pleasaunt journey to you!”

But I woulde not thus be putten offe, and dyd trye with my menne to bringe forth the bayles of clothe from the caves, but the robbers tooke them from us, giving us many cuffes and kickes for oure pains. Anon I demanded my mules, but Robyn dyd say:

“Nay, brother, I have keeped ye mules for ten days for thee, and now I will keepe them longer for mine owne use. Dere meate may become scarce, then will mule meate be plentie.”

Then I dyd try and seize ye rascal by his ears, to give him som chastisement, for we monkes be manie of us strong menne, being used to much huntinge and hawkinge arounde our monasteries.

Thereupon dyd the giant Lytell John seize me and my men, and bynde us face downwardes on our mules, and with many stripes of their bowes and quarter-staves, they dyd beat us on ye uppermoste parts till we dyd fairlie crye oute for mercie.

Then dyd Robyn say—

My old friend the antiquarian would have me drive him to Coventry on my way thither, as he was particularly anxious that I should not miss visiting the shop at which he had made such discoveries of ancient parchments—parchments which, but for his discovery, would have gone, sooner or later, to form the heads of children’s toy drums.

I cannot refrain from mentioning one little incident which took place before we parted. My friend, in showing me the lions of Coventry, took me into the Public Hall, where we found the old fellow in charge busy cleaning the windows. We asked permission to look round, and in speaking to the old custodian who was on the ladder I had some difficulty in making myself understood. I said, “My friend, I am afraid, although this is a fine hall, that its acoustics are very bad.”

To my surprise he gave a lengthy sniff and replied, “I don’t know about that, sir, I’ve never had a complaint before, I can’t smell anything!”

I did not smile, but passed out quickly, for fear of an attack of apoplexy.

In travelling from place to place I come across some strange incidents, some of which are merely the outcome of simplicity or kindness of heart.

Thus at one village I visited, I happened to mention to the landlord of the inn I was staying at that I had omitted to pack a tooth-brush with my other impedimenta.

“Oh, I’ll soon set that right,” he replied, and darting from the room quickly returned with a face beaming with pleasure.

“Here’s one, sir,” and he held out a tooth-brush; “you’ll find it’s a very good one, for I’ve only used it a few times!”

Simplicity of manner frequently runs hand in hand with simplicity of speech; as an illustration of the latter I may give a few words I once heard delivered from the pulpit of a Primitive Methodist chapel, by a good-natured, but somewhat illiterate preacher. He said—

“My dear frinds, coming to worshup this mornin’, I had a curious idea come inter my head. I likened this chapel to a gret iron biler, and you, my frinds, I likened to the dumplin’s a-being biled, while I was the long wooden spune a-stirring on yer up! There, my dear frinds, them were my thoughts when I was a-walking here this werry mornin’.”

What could be more graphic than such a charming and flattering discourse? There could be no comparison between Cicero and this village Hampden!