Merry Adventures of Robin Hood, The by Pyle Howard

Author:Pyle, Howard [Pyle, Howard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical, Adventure, 19th Century, Juvenile Fiction, Medieval
Publisher: Signet
Published: 1883-02-01T02:00:00+00:00

Quoth Robin, “I understand not why those of thy kind live in such a manner that all their wealth passeth from them like snow beneath the springtide sun.”

“Thou wrongest me, Robin,” said the Knight, “for listen: I have a son but twenty winters old, nevertheless he has won his spurs as knight. Last year, on a certain evil day, the jousts were held at Chester, and thither my son went, as did I and my lady wife. I wot it was a proud time for us, for he unhorsed each knight that he tilted against. At last he ran a course with a certain great knight, Sir Walter of Lancaster, yet, though my son was so youthful, he kept his seat, albeit both spears were shivered to the haft; but it happened that a splinter of my boy’s lance ran through the visor of Sir Walter’s helmet, and pierced through his eye into his brain, so that he died ere his esquire could unlace his helm. Now, Robin, Sir Walter had great friends at court, therefore his kinsmen stirred up things against my son so that, to save him from prison, I had to pay a ransom of six hundred pounds in gold. All might have gone well even yet, only that, by ins and outs and crookedness of laws, I was shorn like a sheep that is clipped to the quick. So it came that I had to pawn my lands to the Priory of Emmet for more money, and a hard bargain they drove with me in my hour of need. Yet I would have thee understand I grieve so for my lands only because of my dear lady wife.”

“But where is thy son now?” asked Robin, who had listened closely to all the Knight had said.

“In Palestine,” said Sir Richard, “battling like a brave Christian soldier for the cross and the holy sepulchre. Truly, England was an ill place for him because of Sir Walter’s death, and the hate of the Lancastrian’s kinsmen.”

“Truly,” said Robin, much moved, “thine is a hard lot. But tell me, what is owing to Emmet for thine estates?”

“Only four hundred pounds,” said Sir Richard.

At this Robin smote his thigh in anger. “O the blood-suckers!” cried he. “A noble estate to be forfeit for four hundred pounds! But what will befall thee if thou dost lose thy lands, Sir Richard?”

“It is not mine own lot that doth trouble me in that case,” said the Knight, “but my dear lady’s; for should I lose my land she will have to betake herself to some kinsman and there abide in charity, which, methinks, would break her proud heart. As for me, I will over the salt sea, and so to Palestine to join my son in fight for the holy sepulchre.”

Then up spake Will Scarlet. “But hast thou no friend that will help thee in thy dire need?”

“Never a man,” said Sir Richard. “Whilst I was rich enow at home, and had friends, they blew great boasts of how they loved me.

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