Before I ever dreamt of writing a novel, before I even thought of writing a short story, I wrote a play. It was an adaptation of the story of Robin Hood and was heavily – very heavily – influenced by the book you’re holding in your hands right now: Roger Lancelyn Green’s classic re-telling of the adventures of Robin Hood.
I was twelve years old at the time. Our drama class in school had been given the task of putting on a fifteen-minute production for an end-of-year performance and somehow I ended up as writer–director of the show (I think I wore a special hat during rehearsals). I chose the outlaw of Sherwood Forest because a year or two earlier I had been given a copy of Green’s book and, along with an abridged edition of Mutiny on the Bounty and R. L. Stevenson’s Treasure Island, it was rarely out of my hands.
Every child loves a good adventure story and there aren’t many that are more exciting or thrilling than the story of how Robert of Locksley, the son of a nobleman, is forced into the forest by the evil noblemen who have taken control of England. It’s the stuff of legend, but also an example of one of the simplest themes in storytelling: the battle of good versus evil.
The beauty of Green’s novel is the manner in which each adventure is presented as a story entirely unto itself, so after you’ve read it you can dip in and out and experience your favourite parts all over again. The capture of Will Scarlet is exhilarating, particularly when Robin’s clever plan to save him is put into effect. The prize of the silver arrow is a tale that combines the excitement of the archery contest with the thrill of knowing that capture is at hand at every moment. And the story of the Witch of Paplewick delves into some of the more mystical elements of the legends and leaves you feeling a little more unsettled than you might have expected.
It’s hard to imagine a better gang to belong to than the Merry Men. The names of Little John, Friar Tuck and Maid Marian are legendary but my favourite was always Much, the Miller’s son. Much was a bit daft and was always getting himself into trouble – and getting others into trouble on account of his actions. But he hero-worshipped Robin Hood so much that he was the one I related to the best. Which was why, when I was casting the school play, I kept that part for myself.
Just as all the heroes of Sherwood Forest are neatly defined, so the villains stand out as the most dastardly of fellows. Can there be a more vindictive character in fiction than the greedy, immoral Sheriff of Nottingham? Or a worse toady than the utterly malevolent Sir Guy of Gisborne? It was always a mystery to me how they ever managed to hold on to their positions when they were out-manoeuvred at every turn by the man they hated the most.
The moral in most of these stories is that no matter who is placed in a position of authority, no matter whose decisions condemn their fellow men to lives of servitude or poverty, a good man who puts the well-being of others above his own will always triumph. So it is with Robin Hood, who robs from the rich and gives to the poor, and becomes a hero to all in the process.
But it’s important to remember that Robin is not simply fighting against the powers that be for the sake of it. Prince John and his followers may have turned the country to the bad in the king’s absence, but the story builds to the moment when Richard the Lionheart, to whom Robin and his band of Merry Men have sworn their lifelong allegiance, returns.
Every time I read this book as a child, I lived in dread of the final chapter, ‘The Last Arrow’. I always wanted Robin to go on and have more adventures, simply in order that I could read more about them, but sadly it was not to be. However, it’s astonishing how his legend lives on in films and television and other books. It seems that there is always room for more stories about the hero of Sherwood Forest. Maybe I should go in search of that play I wrote all those years ago?