Robin Hood The Greenwood Tales by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-84934-377-0
Publisher: The Gresham Publishing Company Ltd.,
Published: 2015-07-02T00:00:00+00:00

11

The Black Monks

Alan-a-Dale and his wife were seated one day in the sunshine outside the hut that the outlaws had made for them. Robin had been back in the greenwood for a month now, after his stay in the fishing village, and life in the forest went on in the old merry way.

“I feel so lazy this morning,” yawned Alan-a-Dale to Ellen. “Sing to me, Ellen, and lull my mind to sleep.”

Ellen laughed.

“If I sang to you it would never send you to sleep! It would be more likely to drive you away!”

They became silent again, and would not have noticed Friar Tuck walking by their dwelling if he had not greeted them in his cheery, musical voice.

“Good morning!” he called. “I am off for a walk.”

He would have strolled on, but Alan-a-Dale called to him.

“Wait for us, good friar,” he shouted rising from the grass. “We will come with you.”

The three walked on through the forest. They had not gone far along a leaf-strewn lane when they heard a peculiar sound.

“Quick—into these bushes!” gasped Friar Tuck.

The three dropped behind a bush. All was quiet again. Friar Tuck raised his head above the bush, and looked about him. Not far away he could see two black horses tethered to a beech tree.

“Strange!” he whispered, as he told Alan-a-Dale of his discovery. “Where are the owners of the horses?”

“That’s something I’m going to find out!” remarked Alan-a-Dale.

“I beg your pardon!” said the friar. “You mean we!”

“All right,” said Alan, with a smile. “Let us walk quietly over to the horses and see what we can find out.”

They were joined by Ellen. As they neared the tethered animals, they heard soft chanting not very far away.

It was Friar Tuck who saw the figures first. He caught hold of Alan-a-Dale’s arm and halted him.

“Look!” he whispered. “Look through the trees!”

Alan and Ellen looked. Standing in a circle of birch trees were three men in monk’s habits. Two of them were black monks, the third was a mendicant friar. His gown was so dirty that Friar Tuck had difficulty in recognising the brown colour that showed him to be a friar like himself. Suddenly the three figures dropped down on their knees. The weird chanting that Friar Tuck and his friends had heard before broke the silence again.

“This is interesting,” said Alan-a-Dale, softly. “Let’s creep closer and listen to their chants.”

The three crept silently nearer and hid themselves behind an oak tree. They could hear the words that the monks were chanting now.

“Money, money! Send us, oh, send us some money to serve our needs!”

They sang in a low, mournful tone. The watching outlaws could clearly see the faces of the two black monks, and their expressions were sad indeed. The mendicant friar, whose back was turned to the onlookers, sang with the most unhappy voice of all. Indeed, he was having great difficulty in keeping in tune with his fellows. Altogether it was a depressing gathering.

When the dismal chant for money was over, the mendicant friar stood up and addressed the two black monks.

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