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Файл:The Merry Adventures Of Robin Hood Of Great Renown, In Nottinghamshire
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scanning his face closely.
‘A young face,’ quoth he in a low voice, half to himself, ‘a
kind face, a good face. ‘Tis like a maiden’s for purity, and,
withal, the fairest that e’er mine eyes did see; but, if I may
judge
fairly by thy looks, grief cometh to young as well as
to old.’ At these words, spoken so kindly, the poor lad’s eyes
brimmed up with tears. ‘Nay, nay,’ said Robin hastily, ‘cheer
up, lad; I warrant thy case is not so bad that it cannot
be
mended. What may be thy name?’
‘Allen a Dale is my name, good master.’
‘Allen a Dale,’ repeated Robin, musing. ‘Allen a Dale. It
doth seem to me that the name is not altogether strange
to mine ears. Yea, sure
ly thou art the minstrel of whom we
have been hearing lately, whose voice so charmeth all men.
Dost thou not come from the Dale of Rotherstream, over
beyond Stavely?’
‘Yea, truly,’ answered Allan, ‘I do come thence.’
‘How old art thou, Allan?’ said Robin.
‘I am but twenty years of age.’
‘Methinks thou art overyoung to be perplexed with
trouble,’ quoth Robin kindly; then, turning to the others,
he cried, ‘Come, lads, busk ye and get our feast ready; only
thou, Will Scarlet, and thou, Littl
e John, stay here with me.’
en, when the others had gone, each man about his business, Robin turned once more to the youth. ‘Now, lad,’ said
he, ‘tell us thy troubles, and speak freely. A ow of words
doth ever ease the heart of sorrows
; it is like opening the
waste weir when the mill dam is overfull. Come, sit thou
here beside me, and speak at thine ease.’
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T M A R H
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en straightway the youth told the three yeomen all that
was in his heart; at rst in broken words and phrases, then
freely and with greater ease when he saw that all listened
closely to what he said. So he told them how he had come
from York to the sweet vale of Rother, traveling the country
through as a minstrel, stopping now at castle, now at hall,
and now at farmhouse; how he had spent one sweet evening
in a certain broad, low farmhouse, where he sang before a
stout franklin and a maiden as pure and lovely as the rst
snowdrop of spring; how he had played and sung to her, and
how sweet Ellen o’ the Dale had listened to him and had
loved him. en, in a low, sweet
voice, scarcely louder than
a whisper, he told how he had watched for her and met her
now and then when she went abroad, but was all too afraid
in her sweet presence to speak to her, until at last, beside
the banks of Rother, he ha
d spoken of his love, and she had
whispered that which had made his heartstrings quiver for
joy. en they broke a sixpence between them, and vowed
to be true to one another forever.
Next he told how her father had discovered what was a-
doing, and ha
d taken her away from him so that he never
saw her again, and his heart was sometimes like to break;
how this morn, only one short month and a half from the
time that he had seen her last, he had heard and knew it to
be so,
that she was to marry old Sir Stephen of Trent, two
days hence, for Ellen’s father thought it would be a grand
thing to have his daughter marry so high, albeit she wished
it not; nor was it wonder that a knight should wish to marry
own sweet love, who was the most beautiful maiden in
his
THE MERRY ADVENTURES OF R OBIN H OOD162
162
all the world.
To all this the yeomen listened in silence, the clatter of
many voices, jesting and laughing, sounding around them,
and the red light of the re shining on their faces and in
their eyes. So simple were the poor boy’s words, and
so deep
his sorrow, that even Little John felt a certain knotty lump
rise in his throat.
‘I wonder not,’ said Robin, aer a moment’s silence, ‘that
thy true love loved thee, for thou hast surely a silver cross
beneath thy tongue, even like goo
d Saint Francis, that could
charm the birds of the air by his speech.’
‘By the breath of my body,’ burst forth Little John, seeking to cover his feelings with angry words, ‘I have a great
part of a mind to go straightway and cudgel
the nasty life
out of the body of that same vile Sir Stephen. Marry, come
up, say I—what a plague—does an old weazen think that
tender lasses are to be bought like pullets o’ a market day?
Out upon him!—I— but no matter, on
ly let him look to
himself.’
en up spoke Will Scarlet. ‘Methinks it seemeth but ill
done of the lass that she should so quickly change at others’
bidding, more especially when it cometh to the marrying
of a man as old as this same
Sir Stephen. I like it not in her,
Allan.’
‘Nay,’ said Allan hotly, ‘thou dost wrong her. She is as so
and gentle as a stockdove. I know her better than anyone
in all the world. She may do her father’s bidding, but if she
marries
Sir Stephen, her heart will break and she will die.
My own sweet dear, I—‘ He stopped and shook his head, for
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T M A R H
163
he could say nothing further.
While the others were speaking, Robin Hood had been
sunk in thought. ‘Methinks I have a plan might t thy case,
Allan,’ said he. ‘But tell me rst, thinkest thou, lad, that thy
true love hath spirit enough to marry thee were ye
together
in church, the banns published, and the priest found, even
were her father to say her nay?’
‘Ay, marry would she,’ cried Allan eagerly.
‘en, if her father be the man that I take him to be, I will
undertake that he shall give you both
his blessing as wed-
ded man and wife, in the place of old Sir Stephen, and upon
his wedding morn. But stay, now I bethink me, there is one
thing reckoned not upon— the priest. Truly, those of the
cloth do not love me overmuch, an
d when it comes to doing
as I desire in such a matter, they are as like as not to prove
sti-necked. As to the lesser clergy, they fear to do me a fa-
vor because of abbot or bishop.
‘Nay,’ quoth Will Scarlet, laughing, ‘so far as
that goeth, I
know of a certain friar that, couldst thou but get on the so
side of him, would do thy business even though Pope Joan
herself stood forth to ban him. He is known as the Curtal
Friar of Fountain Abbey, and dwelleth in Fountain Da
le.’
‘But,’ quoth Robin, ‘Fountain Abbey is a good hundred
miles from here. An we would help this lad, we have no
time to go thither and back before his true love will be married. Nought is to be gained there, coz.’
‘Yea,’ q
uoth Will Scarlet, laughing again, ‘but this Foun-
tain Abbey is not so far away as the one of which thou
speakest, uncle. e Fountain Abbey of which I speak is
THE MERRY ADVENTURES OF R OBIN H OOD164
164
no such rich and proud place as the other, but a simple little cell; yet, withal, as cosy a spot as ever stout anchorite
dwelled within. I know the place well, and can guide thee
thither, for, though it is a goodl
y distance, yet methinks a
stout pair of legs could carry a man there and back in one
day.’
‘en give me thy hand, Allan,’ cried Robin, ‘and let me
tell thee, I swear by the bright hair of Saint AElfrida that
this time two days hence
Ellen a Dale shall be thy wife. I
will seek this same Friar of Fountain Abbey tomorrow day,
and I warrant I will get upon the so side of him, even if I
have to drub one so.’
At this Will Scarlet laughed again. ‘Be not too sure of that,
good uncle,’ quoth he, ‘nevertheless, from what I know of
him, I think this Curtal Friar will gladly join two such fair
lovers, more especially if there be good eating and drinking
afoot thereaer.’
But now one of the band came to say that the feast was
spread upon the grass; so, Robin leading the way, the others followed to where the goodly feast was spread. Merry
was the meal. Jest and story passed freely, and all laughed
till the forest rang again. Allan laughed with the rest, for
his cheeks were ushed with the hope that Robin Hood had
given him.
At last the feast was done, and Robin Hood turned to Allan, who sat beside him. ‘Now, Allan,’ quoth he, ‘so much
has been said of thy singing that we would fain have a taste
of thy skill ourselves. Canst thou not give us something?’
‘Surely,’ answered Allan readily; for he was no third-rate
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T M A R H
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songster that must be asked again and again, but said ‘yes’
or ‘no’ at the rst bidding; so, taking up his harp, he ran
his ngers lightly over the sweetly sounding strings, and all
was hushed about the cloth. en, backing his voice with
sweet music
on his harp, he sang:
MAY ELLEN’S WEDDING
(Giving an account of how she was beloved by a fairy
prince, who took her to his own home.)
‘May Ellen sat beneath a thorn
And in a shower around
e blossoms fell at every breeze
Like snow upon the ground,
And in a lime tree near was heard
e sweet song of a strange, wild bird.
‘O sweet, sweet, sweet, O piercing sweet,
O lingering sweet the strain!
May Ellen’s heart within her breast
Stood still with blissful pain:
And so, with listening, upturned face,
She sat as dead in that fair place.
‘Come down from out the blossoms, bird!
Come down from out the tree,
And on my heart I’ll let thee lie,
And love thee tenderly!’
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166
us cried May Ellen, so and low,
From where the hawthorn shed its snow.
‘Down dropped the bird on quivering wing,
From out the blossoming tree,
And nestled in her snowy breast.
‘My love! my love!’ cried she;
en straightway home, ‘mid sun and ower,
She bare him to her own sweet bower.
‘e day hath passed to mellow night,
e moon oats o’er the lea,
And in its solemn, pallid light
A youth stands silently:
A youth of beauty strange and rare,
Within May Ellen’s bower there.
‘He stood where o’er the pavement cold
e glimmering moonbeams lay.
May Ellen gazed with wide, scared eyes,
Nor could she turn away,
For, as in mystic dreams we see
A spirit, stood he silently.
‘All in a low and breathless voice,
‘Whence comest thou?’ said she;
‘Art thou the creature of a dream,
Or a vision that I see?’
en so spake he, as night winds shiver
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rough straining reeds beside the river.
‘I came, a bird on feathered wing,
From distant Faeryland
Where murmuring waters soly sing
Upon the golden strand,
Where sweet trees are forever green;
And there my mother is the queen.’
…
‘No more May Ellen leaves her bower
To grace the blossoms fair;
But in the hushed and midnight hour
ey hear her talking there,
Or, when the moon is shining white,
ey hear her singing through the night.
‘Oh, don thy silks and jewels ne,’
May Ellen’s mother said,
‘For hither comes the Lord of Lyne
And thou this lord must wed.’
May Ellen said, ‘It may not be.
He ne’er shall nd his wife in me.’
‘Up spoke her brother, dark and grim:
‘Now by the bright blue sky,
E’er yet a day hath gone for him
y wicked bird shall die!
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168
For he hath wrought thee bitter harm,
By some strange art or cunning charm.’
‘en, with a sad and mournful song,
Away the bird did y,
And o’er the castle eaves, and through
e gray and windy sky.
‘Come forth!’ then cried the brother grim,
‘Why dost thou gaze so aer him?’
‘It is May Ellen’s wedding day,
e sky is blue and fair,
And many a lord and lady gay
In church are gathered there.
e bridegroom was Sir Hugh the Bold,
All clad in silk and cloth of gold.
‘In came the bride in samite white
With a white wreath on her head;
Her eyes were xed with a glassy look,
Her face was as the dead,
And when she stood among the throng,
She sang a wild and wondrous song.
‘en came a strange and rushing sound
Like the coming wind doth bring,
And in the open windows shot
Nine swans on whistling wing,
And high above the heads they ew,
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169
In gleaming ght the darkness through.
‘Around May Ellen’s head they ew
In wide and windy ght,
And three times round the circle drew.
e guests shrank in aright,
And the priest beside the altar there,
Did cross himself with muttered prayer.
‘But the third time they ew around,
Fair Ellen straight was gone,
And in her place, upon the ground,
ere stood a snow-white swan.
en, with a wild and lovely song,
It joined the swi and winged throng.
‘ere’s ancient men at weddings been,
For sixty years and more,
But such a wondrous wedding day,
ey never saw before.
But none could check and none could stay,
e swans that bore the bride away.’
Not a sound broke the stillness when Allan a Dale had
done, but all sat gazing at the handsome singer, for so sweet
was his voice and the music that each man sat with bated
breath, l
est one drop more should come and he should lose
it.
‘By my faith and my troth,’ quoth Robin at last, drawing
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170
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