And thou, fine fellowe, who has tasted so
Of the forester’s greenwood game,
Will be in no haste thy time to waste
In seeking more taste of the same:
Of this can I read thee and riddle thee well,
Thou hast better by far be the devil in hell,
Than the Sheriff of Nottingham!
THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK: Maid Marian (1822)
Although there was so much to do in Sherwood where nearly all of the food they ate had to be hunted, trapped, or shot, and they were always in danger of surprise from the Sheriff of Nottingham, Sir Guy of Gisborne, and the rest, Robin Hood occasionally found time hang heavy on his hands.
On one such occasion he and Little John were walking by the high road to Nottingham where it runs through the forest, when they saw a Butcher with his cart of meat come jogging along on his way to market.
‘Younder comes a proud fellow,’ said Little John, ‘who fancies himself a master with the quarter-staff. He comes through the forest twice every week, and nothing gives him greater pleasure than the chance to thrash someone with his big stick.’
‘Twice a week,’ said Robin, ‘and he has never paid any toll to us! It is long since I fought with the quarter-staff, except in friendly wise with you or Friar Tuck. I’ll go and have words with this Butcher – and see if blows come of it!’
‘I’ll wager a piece of gold he beats you!’ said Little John.
‘Done!’ smiled Robin, and laying aside his weapons, he cut himself a good oak staff and strode down the road until he met the Butcher.
‘Now then!’ cried the Butcher sharply, as Robin laid a hand on the horse’s bridle. ‘What do you want, you impudent fellow?’
‘You have haunted these ways long enough,’ said Robin sternly, ‘without paying the due toll that you owe to me! Come, sirrah, pay up at once!’
‘And who do you think you are?’ cried the Butcher. ‘A Forest Guard or what? I serve the good Sheriff of Nottingham – and he’ll make your hide smart for this, after I’ve tanned you myself, and broken your head into the bargain.’
‘I am of Robin Hood’s company,’ was the reply, ‘and if you will not pay tribute in gold, get down out of that cart and pay it in blows.’
‘Right willingly!’ answered the Butcher, and jumping out of his cart he charged at Robin, whirling his staff about his head.
Then there was as good a fight, and as pretty a play of skill with the quarter-staves as ever one might see: but the long and short of it was that though Robin suffered a sore clout over one eye, in the end he brought the Butcher to the ground with a last stunning blow.
‘The piece of gold is yours,’ said Little John coming up.
‘This is a fine fellow,’ said Robin as the Butcher sat up and looked about him. ‘Give him wine, Little John, I’ll warrant his head is ringing even louder than mine!’
‘That it is!’ groaned the Butcher. ‘By the Mass, you are a bonny fighter. I think you must be Robin Hood himself, and no other!’
‘That I am indeed!’ said Robin.
‘Then I think no shame at being beaten,’ said the Butcher with a sigh of relief. ‘And I’ll willingly pay any toll you may ask of me.’
‘No, no,’ answered Robin, ‘you’ve paid toll enough with that broken head of yours. Come now to our camp and see what good cheer we can make for you.’
When the meal was over, Robin said suddenly to the Butcher:
‘Good friend, I have a mind to be a butcher myself. Will you sell me your horse, your cart and the meat now on it for ten pounds – and stay here in the forest with us?’
‘Right willingly,’ answered the Butcher, and the deal was made.
‘You go into danger for no good cause,’ said Will Scarlet doubtfully as Robin donned the Butcher’s garb.
‘Nevertheless I go,’ answered Robin. ‘I grow weary of this unchanging forest life – and also I would have news of what passes in the world outside. It is said that King Richard is a prisoner somewhere in Europe, and Prince John makes no effort to find and ransom him: I would know more of this. Never fear, not even the Sheriff will know me!’
With that Robin fixed a black patch over one eye, climbed into the cart and went rattling away through the forest and onto the Nottingham road once more. In the afternoon he came to Nottingham, drew up his cart in the market-place, and began to cry:
‘Meat to sell! Fresh meat to sell! Fresh meat a penny a pound!’
Then all that saw and heard him at his trade said that he had not been a Butcher for long, since at that price he could not expect to earn a living. But the thrifty housewives gathered round him eagerly, for never had they bought such cheap meat before.
Among them came the Sheriff’s wife, and seeing that the meat was good, fresh and tender – and most unusually cheap, she invited the Butcher to bring his cart up to the Sheriff’s house, sell to her what was left, and then sup with her and the Sheriff.
Robin accepted with delight, and as evening fell he stabled his horse and empty cart in the Sheriff’s stables and sat down to dine as an honoured guest at the Sheriff’s board.
At dinner that night Robin learned many things which he wished to know. He heard that King Richard was in truth a prisoner, but that Prince John was giving out that he was dead so that he himself might become King.
‘But a pestilent fellow called Blondel,’ added the Sheriff, ‘has gone in search of Richard. He is a minstrel, and so can pass unmolested through the most hostile lands: may the plague take him speedily!’
‘Will the great Barons and the Lords and Knights accept Prince John as King?’ asked Robin.
‘There the trouble lies,’ said the Sheriff shaking his head sadly. ‘Many, like the Earl of Chester, oppose him. But many more will be won over…’
Later in the evening the Sheriff asked Robin if he had any horned beasts that he could sell to him – meaning live cattle rather than joints of meat.
‘Yes, that I have, good master Sheriff,’ answered Robin, ‘I have two or three hundred of them, and many an acre of good free land, if you please to see it. I can let it to you with as good a right as ever my father made to me.’
‘The horned beasts interest me most,’ said the Sheriff. ‘Good master Butcher, I will come with you on the morrow – and make you a right fair offer for the whole herd, if they please me.’
Robin Hood slept well and comfortably in the Sheriff’s house, and ate a fine breakfast in the morning before they set off together, accompanied by only two men, to see the horned beasts.
The Sheriff seemed in high spirits when they started out, jesting and laughing with Robin. But presently as they went deeper and deeper into Sherwood Forest he grew more and more silent.
‘Have we much further to go, friend Butcher?’ he asked at last. ‘God protect us this day from a man they call Robin Hood!’
‘The outlaw, you mean?’ asked Robin. ‘I know him well, and have often shot at the butts with him. I am no bad archer myself, if it comes to that: indeed I dare swear that Robin Hood himself can shoot no better than I.’
‘Know you where he lies hid in Sherwood?’ asked the Sheriff eagerly.
‘Right well,’ replied Robin, ‘even his most secret place of hiding.’
‘I would pay you well if you were to bring me thither,’ said the Sheriff.
‘That will I do,’ answered Robin. ‘But hist now: we draw near the place where the horned beasts are to be found. Stay a moment, while I wind my horn so that the herdsmen may drive them hither.’
So saying Robin set his horn to his mouth and blew three blasts. Then he drew a little behind the Sheriff and waited.
Presently there was a crackling in the thicket, and a great troop of red deer came into view, tossing their antlers proudly.
‘How like you my horned beasts, Master Sheriff?’ asked Robin. ‘They be fat and fair to see!’
‘Good fellow, I wish I were far from here,’ said the Sheriff uncomfortably. ‘I like not your company…’
‘We will have better company anon,’ Robin remarked with a smile, and even as he spoke out of the thicket came Little John, followed by Will Scarlet, Much, Reynolde, William of Goldsbrough, and many another of the outlaws of Sherwood.
‘What is your will, good master?’ said Little John. ‘Come, tell us how you fared in Nottingham, and whether you did good trade as a butcher?’
‘Fine trade indeed,’ answered Robin, pulling off his eye-patch and the rest of his disguise. ‘And see, I have brought with me the Sheriff of Nottingham to dine with us this day.’
‘He is right welcome,’ said Little John. ‘And I am sure he will pay well for his dinner.’
‘Well indeed,’ laughed Robin. ‘For he has brought much money with him to buy three hundred head of deer from me. And even now he offered me a great sum to lead him to our secret glade.’
‘By the Rood,’ said the Sheriff, shaking with terror, ‘had I guessed who you were, a thousand pounds would not have brought me into Sherwood!’
‘I would that you had a thousand pounds to bring you out of Sherwood,’ said Robin. ‘Now then, bind him and his men, blindfold them, and lead them to dinner. When we reach the glade we can see what they have brought us – and by then I will have earned every penny, ha, ha!’
So the Sheriff and his two trembling followers were blindfolded and led by the secret paths to the hidden glen, and Robin feasted them there full well. But afterwards he bade Little John spread his cloak upon the ground and pour into it all the money the Sheriff had brought with him, and the sum came to nearly five hundred pounds.
‘We will keep the three good horses also,’ said Robin, ‘and let Master Sheriff and his two men walk back to Nottingham – for the good of their health. But let Maid Marian send a present of needlework to the Sheriff’s lady, for she entertained me well at dinner and set fair dishes before me.’
Then the Sheriff and his two men were blindfolded once more and taken back to the Nottingham road, and there Robin bade them farewell.
‘You shall not defy me for much longer, Robin Hood,’ cried the Sheriff, shaking his fist at Robin in farewell. ‘I’ll come against you with a great force, depend upon it, and hang every man of you from the trees by this road side. And your head shall rot over Nottingham gate.’
‘When next you come to visit me in Sherwood,’ said Robin quietly, ‘you shall not get away on such easy terms. Come when you will, and the more of you the merrier – and I’ll send you all packing back to Nottingham in your shirts!’
Then he left them and returned to the secret glade where the Butcher, whose name was Gilbert-of-the-White-Hand, was waiting for him.
‘Here are your cart and horses back again, good master Butcher,’ said Robin. ‘I have had a fine holiday selling meat in your stead – but we must not play too many of such pranks.’
‘By the Mass,’ swore Gilbert the Butcher, ‘I’ll sell meat no longer, if you will have me as one of your merry men here in the greenwood. I cannot shoot with any skill – for see how my left hand was burnt white with fire when I once shot a deer to feed my starving family. But you have had some little proof of how I can smite with the quarter-staff.’
‘Proof enough, good Gilbert,’ cried Robin. ‘I am right glad to welcome you as one of us… Come, Friar Tuck, propound the oath to him. And then to dinner, and we’ll all drink to the health of our new companion, Gilbert-of-the-White-Hand, the jolly Butcher of Nottingham!’