CHAPTER XVII
HOW THE BISHOP WAS DINED
"O what is the matter?" then said the Bishop,
"Or for whom do you make this a-do?
Or why do you kill the King's venison,
When your company is so few?"
"We are shepherds," quoth bold Robin Hood,
"And we keep sheep all the year,
And we are disposed to be merrie this day,
And to kill of the King's fat deer."
Not many days after Sir Richard of the Lea came to Sherwood
Forest, word reached Robin Hood's ears that my lord Bishop of
Hereford would be riding that way betimes on that morning. 'Twas
Arthur-a-Bland, the knight's quondam esquire, who brought the
tidings, and Robin's face brightened as he heard it.
"Now, by our Lady!" quoth he, "I have long desired to entertain
my lord in the greenwood, and this is too fair a chance to let
slip. Come, my men, kill me a venison; kill me a good fat deer.
The Bishop of Hereford is to dine with me today, and he shall pay
well for his cheer."
"Shall we dress it here, as usual?" asked Much, the miller's son.
"Nay, we play a droll game on the churchman. We will dress it by
the highway side, and watch for the Bishop narrowly, lest he
should ride some other way."
So Robin gave his orders, and the main body of his men dispersed
to different parts of the forest, under Will Stutely and Little
John, to watch other roads; while Robin Hood himself took six of
his men, including Will Scarlet, and Much, and posted himself in
full view of the main road. This little company appeared funny
enough, I assure you, for they had disguised themselves as
shepherds. Robin had an old wool cap, with a tail to it, hanging
over his ear, and a shock of hair stood straight up through a
hole in the top. Besides there was so much dirt on his face that
you would never have known him. An old tattered cloak over his
hunter's garb completed his make-up. The others were no less
ragged and unkempt, even the foppish Will Scarlet being so badly
run down at the heel that the court ladies would hardly have had
speech with him.
They quickly provided themselves with a deer and made great
preparations to cook it over a small fire, when a little dust was
seen blowing along the highway, and out of it came the portly
Bishop cantering along with ten men-at-arms at his heels. As
soon as he saw the fancied shepherds he spurred up his horse, and
came straight toward them.
"Who are ye, fellows, who make so free with the King's deer?" he
asked sharply.
"We are shepherds," answered Robin Hood, pulling at his forelock
awkwardly.
"Heaven have mercy! Ye seem a sorry lot of shepherds. But who
gave you leave to cease eating mutton?"
"'Tis one of our feast days, lording, and we were disposed to be
merry this day, and make free with a deer, out here where they
are so many."
"By me faith, the King shall hear of this. Who killed yon
beast?"
"Give me first your name, excellence, so that I may speak where
'tis fitting," replied Robin stubbornly.
"'Tis my lord Bishop of Hereford, fellow!" interposed one of the
guards fiercely. "See that you keep a civil tongue in your
head."
"If 'tis a churchman," retorted Will Scarlet, "he would do better
to mind his own flocks rather than concern himself with ours."
"Ye are saucy fellows, in sooth," cried the Bishop, "and we will
see if your heads will pay for your manners. Come! quit your
stolen roast and march along with me, for you shall be brought
before the Sheriff of Nottingham forthwith."
"Pardon, excellence!" said Robin, dropping on his knees.
"Pardon, I pray you. It becomes not your lordship's coat to take
so many lives away."
"Faith, I'll pardon you!" said the Bishop. "I'll pardon you,
when I see you hanged! Seize upon them, my men!"
But Robin had already sprung away with his back against a tree.
And from underneath his ragged cloak he drew his trusty horn and
winded the piercing notes which were wont to summon the band.
The Bishop no sooner saw this action than he knew his man, and
that there was a trap set; and being an arrant coward, he wheeled
his horse sharply and would have made off down the road; but his
own men, spurred on the charge, blocked his way. At almost the
same instant the bushes round about seemed literally to become
alive with outlaws. Little John's men came from one side and
Will Stutely's from the other. In less time than it takes to
tell it, the worthy Bishop found himself a prisoner, and began to
crave mercy from the men he had so lately been ready to sentence.
"O pardon, O pardon," said the Bishop,
"O pardon, I you pray.
For if I had known it had been you,
I'd have gone some other way."
"I owe you no pardon," retorted Robin, "but I will e'en treat you
better than you would have treated me. Come, make haste, and go
along with me. I have already planned that you shall dine with
me this day."
So the unwilling prelate was dragged away, cheek by jowl, with
the half-cooked venison upon the back of his own horse; and Robin
and his band took charge of the whole company and led them
through the forest glades till they came to an open space near
Barnesdale.
Here they rested, and Robin gave the Bishop a seat full
courteously. Much the miller's son fell to roasting the deer
afresh, while another and fatter beast was set to frizzle on the
other side of the fire. Presently the appetizing odor of the
cooking reached the Bishop's nostrils, and he sniffed it eagerly.
The morning's ride had made him hungry; and he was nothing loath
when they bade him come to the dinner. Robin gave him the best
place beside himself, and the Bishop prepared to fall to.
"Nay, my lord, craving your pardon, but we are accustomed to have
grace before meat," said Robin decorously. "And as our own
chaplain is not with us to-day, will you be good enough to say it
for us?"
The Bishop reddened, but pronounced grace in the Latin tongue
hastily, and then settled himself to make the best of his lot.
Red wines and ale were brought forth and poured out, each man
having a horn tankard from which to drink.
Laughter bubbled among the diners, and the Bishop caught himself
smiling at more than one jest. But who, in sooth, could resist a
freshly broiled venison streak eaten out in the open air to the
tune of jest and good fellowship? Stutely filled the Bishop's
beaker with wine each time he emptied it, and the Bishop got
mellower and mellower as the afternoon shades lengthened on
toward sunset. Then the approaching dusk warned him of his
position.
"I wish, mine host," quoth he gravely to Robin, who had soberly
drunk but one cup of ale, "that you would now call a reckoning.
'Tis late, and I fear the cost of this entertainment may be more
than my poor purse can stand."
For he bethought himself of his friend, the Sheriff's former
experience.
"Verily, your lordship," said Robin, scratching his head, "I have
enjoyed your company so much, that I scarce know how to charge
for it."
"Lend me your purse, my lord," said Little John, interposing,
"and I'll give you the reckoning by and by." The Bishop
shuddered. He had collected Sir Richard's debt only that
morning, and was even then carrying it home.
"I have but a few silver pennies of my own," he whined; "and as
for the gold in my saddle-bags, 'tis for the church. Ye surely
would not levy upon the church, good friends."
But Little John was already gone to the saddle-bags, and
returning he laid the Bishop's cloak upon the ground, and poured
out of the portmantua a matter of four hundred glittering gold
pieces. 'Twas the identical money which Robin had lent Sir
Richard a short while before!
"Ah!" said Robin, as though an idea had but just then come to
him. "The church is always willing to aid in charity. And
seeing this goodly sum reminds me that I have a friend who is
indebted to a churchman for this exact amount. Now we shall
charge you nothing on our own account; but suffer us to make use
of this in aiding my good friend."
"Nay, nay," began the Bishop with a wry face, "this is requiting
me ill indeed. Was this not the King's meat, after all, that we
feasted upon? Furthermore, I am a poor man."
"Poor forsooth!" answered Robin in scorn. "You are the Bishop of
Hereford, and does not the whole countryside speak of your
oppression? Who does not know of your cruelty to the poor and
ignorant--you who should use your great office to aid them,
instead of oppress? Have you not been guilty of far greater
robbery than this, even though less open? Of myself, and how you
have pursued me, I say nothing; nor of your unjust enmity against
my father. But on account of those you have despoiled and
oppressed, I take this money, and will use it far more worthily
than you would. God be my witness in this! There is an end of
the matter, unless you will lead us in a song or dance to show
that your body had a better spirit than your mind. Come, strike
up the harp, Allan!"
"Neither the one nor the other will I do," snarled the Bishop.
"Faith, then we must help you," said Little John; and he and
Arthur-a-Bland seized the fat struggling churchman and commenced
to hop up and down. The Bishop being shorter must perforce
accompany them in their gyrations; while the whole company sat
and rolled about over the ground, and roared to see my lord of
Hereford's queer capers. At last he sank in a heap, fuddled with
wine and quite exhausted.
Little John picked him up as though he were a log of wood and
carrying him to his horse, set him astride facing the animal's
tail; and thus fastened him, leading the animal toward the
highroad and, starting the Bishop, more dead than alive, toward
Nottingham.
