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Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound
How Sir Richard of the Lea Paid his Debts

This is another chapter Pyle takes from A Gest of Robyn Hode.



quote:


THE LONG HIGHWAY stretched straight on, gray and dusty in the sun. On either side were dikes full of water bordered by osiers, and far away in the distance stood the towers of Emmet Priory with tall poplar trees around.

Along the causeway rode a knight with a score of stout men-at-arms behind him. The Knight was clad in a plain, long robe of gray serge, gathered in at the waist with a broad leathern belt, from which hung a long dagger and a stout sword. But though he was so plainly dressed himself, the horse he rode was a noble barb, and its trappings were rich with silk and silver bells.

So thus the band journeyed along the causeway between the dikes, till at last they reached the great gate of Emmet Priory. There the Knight called to one of his men and bade him knock at the porter's lodge with the heft of his sword.

The porter was drowsing on his bench within the lodge, but at the knock he roused himself and, opening the wicket, came hobbling forth and greeted the Knight, while a tame starling that hung in a wicker cage within piped out, "In coelo quies! In coelo quies!" such being the words that the poor old lame porter had taught him to speak.


"In coelo quies" is latin for "There is peace in heaven." The trained talking starling is Pyle's addition to the ballad; I didn't know starlings could be taught to speak.

Here is a youtube video of a talking starling: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6XXYcr0S4Ts

quote:

"Where is thy prior?" asked the Knight of the old porter.

"He is at meat, good knight, and he looketh for thy coming," quoth the porter, "for, if I mistake not, thou art Sir Richard of the Lea."

"I am Sir Richard of the Lea; then I will go seek him forthwith," said the Knight.

"But shall I not send thy horse to stable?" said the porter. "By Our Lady, it is the noblest nag, and the best harnessed, that e'er I saw in all my life before." And he stroked the horse's flank with his palm.

"Nay," quoth Sir Richard, "the stables of this place are not for me, so make way, I prythee."

Sir Richard won't trust his horse to the Abbey's care. If he did, he would be accepting the Abbey's hospitality, and they aren't his friends.


quote:

So saying, he pushed forward, and, the gates being opened, he entered the stony courtyard of the Priory, his men behind him. In they came with rattle of steel and clashing of swords, and ring of horses' feet on cobblestones, whereat a flock of pigeons that strutted in the sun flew with flapping wings to the high eaves of the round towers.

Again, Pyle's eye here for a cinematic entrance; those vivid details aren't in the ballad.

quote:


While the Knight was riding along the causeway to Emmet, a merry feast was toward in the refectory there. The afternoon sun streamed in through the great arched windows and lay in broad squares of light upon the stone floor and across the board covered with a snowy linen cloth, whereon was spread a princely feast. At the head of the table sat Prior Vincent of Emmet all clad in soft robes of fine cloth and silk; on his head was a black velvet cap picked out with gold, and around his neck hung a heavy chain of gold, with a great locket pendant therefrom. Beside him, on the arm of his great chair, roosted his favorite falcon, for the Prior was fond of the gentle craft of hawking. On his right hand sat the Sheriff of Nottingham in rich robes of purple all trimmed about with fur, and on his left a famous doctor of law in dark and sober garb. Below these sat the high cellarer of Emmet, and others chief among the brethren.


The detail of the falcon is a social inversion; medieval etiquette books such as the Book of St. Albans set fairly strict etiquette rules for who could appropriately hawk with which birds; hawking with a bird above your rank was presumptuous. Hawking with falcons was reserved for the king, princes, and dukes, the very highest nobility; priests were restricted to humbler birds like the sparrowhawk. The Abbot here is being habitually presumptuous and arrogant.

The presence of the Sheriff of Nottingham here is a bit ambiguous in the original ballad ; the Gest does refer to a “Sheryf” as being present, but he isn’t named.

quote:

Jest and laughter passed around, and all was as merry as merry could be. The wizened face of the man of law was twisted into a wrinkled smile, for in his pouch were fourscore golden angels that the Prior had paid him in fee for the case betwixt him and Sir Richard of the Lea. The learned doctor had been paid beforehand, for he had not overmuch trust in the holy Vincent of Emmet.

The Gest has the attorney state that he has been paid “in cloth and fee,” which Rochester.edu explains with this helpful note:

quote:

quote:


The phrase "cloth and fee" echoes the Latin formula cum robis et foedis, used to designate payment of legal services with both money and gifts of clothing. The abbot had retained the chief justice in order to help him bankrupt the knight. According to Child (III, 52) the practice of giving and receiving robes for such purposes was considered a conspiracy in the legal code of King Edward I, 1305-06; in another statute of King Edward III, dated 1346, justices were required to swear that they would accept robes and fees only from the king.

So, again, the Abbot is being both corrupt and presumptously arrogant -- he’s acting like royalty, not a priest..

quote:

Quoth the Sheriff of Nottingham, "But art thou sure, Sir Prior, that thou hast the lands so safe?"

"Ay, marry," said Prior Vincent, smacking his lips after a deep draught of wine, "I have kept a close watch upon him, albeit he was unawares of the same, and I know right well that he hath no money to pay me withal."

"Ay, true," said the man of law in a dry, husky voice, "his land is surely forfeit if he cometh not to pay; but, Sir Prior, thou must get a release beneath his sign manual, or else thou canst not hope to hold the land without trouble from him."

Medieval land law was *complicated* -- what survives of it still confuses law students today (if you want, look up “rule against perpetuities”). Short version, the knight’s estate is a feudal estate which the knight holds by grant from the King. If the Abbot just forecloses on the land, it might still be subject to the various feudal rights and duties of the knight, and the knight might have a chance to reclaim it later. If the Knight signs it over officially, though, it becomes Church property in perpetuity, without feudal obligations. .

Basically the Abbot is offering the Knight money down now if he officially sells the land and signs it over, rather than forcing the Abbot to foreclose.

quote:

"Yea," said the Prior, "so thou hast told me ere now, but I know that this knight is so poor that he will gladly sign away his lands for two hundred pounds of hard money."

Then up spake the high cellarer, "Methinks it is a shame to so drive a misfortunate knight to the ditch. I think it sorrow that the noblest estate in Derbyshire should so pass away from him for a paltry five hundred pounds. Truly, I—"

"How now," broke in the Prior in a quivering voice, his eyes glistening and his cheeks red with anger, "dost thou prate to my very beard, sirrah? By Saint Hubert, thou hadst best save thy breath to cool thy pottage, else it may scald thy mouth."

Saint Hubert is a French (that is, Norman) saint. ; the Gest has the Abbot swear by Saint Richard, an English saint.

There's another interesting bit in the original Gest which Pyle cuts here, probably because it is a bit of an inconsistency: while calling out the Abbot for his lack of mercy, the Cellarer states:

quote:


"The knyght is ferre beyonde the see,
In Englonde ryght,
And suffreth honger and colde,
And many a sory nyght.


In other words, the Knight is abroad, fighting for England (perhaps in the Continent in the hundred year's war, perhaps on Crusade, etc.) while the Abbot is just getting fat at home. This was a big issue for the soldiers and yoemen who likely made up the audience for a lot of these ballads: fighting overseas, far from home, returning home only to be taken advantage of by the wealthy who never left and never fought.


quote:

"Nay," said the man of law smoothly, "I dare swear this same knight will never come to settlement this day, but will prove recreant. Nevertheless, we will seek some means to gain his lands from him, so never fear."

But even as the doctor spoke, there came a sudden clatter of horses' hoofs and a jingle of iron mail in the courtyard below. Then up spake the Prior and called upon one of the brethren that sat below the salt, and bade him look out of the window and see who was below, albeit he knew right well it could be none but Sir Richard.

So the brother arose and went and looked, and he said, "I see below a score of stout men-at-arms and a knight just dismounting from his horse. He is dressed in long robes of gray which, methinks, are of poor seeming; but the horse he rideth upon hath the richest coursing that ever I saw. The Knight dismounts and they come this way, and are even now below in the great hall."

"Lo, see ye there now," quoth Prior Vincent. "Here ye have a knight with so lean a purse as scarce to buy him a crust of bread to munch, yet he keeps a band of retainers and puts rich trappings upon his horse's hide, while his own back goeth bare. Is it not well that such men should be brought low?"


Prior kinda has a point! But from a medieval yeoman’s point of view -- setting aside that we know this is all Robin’s men anyway -- this just means the knight is a good boss. He’s spending on his men and his horse, not himself. He’s humble and caring.

quote:

"But art thou sure," said the little doctor tremulously, "that this knight will do us no harm? Such as he are fierce when crossed, and he hath a band of naughty men at his heels. Mayhap thou hadst better give an extension of his debt." Thus he spake, for he was afraid Sir Richard might do him a harm.

"Thou needst not fear," said the Prior, looking down at the little man beside him. "This knight is gentle and would as soon think of harming an old woman as thee."

The attorney has a legit concern here. We’re still in an era when disputes were settled by violence *all the time*. For example, in 1324, Geoffrey Chaucer’s father John Chaucer was kidnapped by men with swords in an attempt to force him to marry his first cousin and keep property in the family. .

The whole central problem of “chivalry” -- and a major role of the Church -- was to try to impose some check and rule, via the conscience and the fear of the afterlife, on large bodies of armed violent men. And here the Church has forsaken that duty and is just grasping for wealth. So what’s to stop Sir Richard? Only that he’s one of the good ones. He has a conscience even when the Church doesn’t.

quote:

As the Prior finished, a door at the lower end of the refectory swung open, and in came Sir Richard, with folded hands and head bowed upon his breast. Thus humbly he walked slowly up the hall, while his men-at-arms stood about the door. When he had come to where the Prior sat, he knelt upon one knee. "Save and keep thee, Sir Prior," said he, "I am come to keep my day."

Then the first word that the Prior said to him was "Hast thou brought my money?"

RUDE. And greedy, and selfish, and discourteous. And unbecoming especially of a priest.

quote:

"Alas! I have not so much as one penny upon my body," said the Knight; whereat the Prior's eyes sparkled.

"Now, thou art a shrewd debtor, I wot," said he. Then, "Sir Sheriff, I drink to thee."

This is a bit of a pun; Sir Richard is being “shrewd” -- and again, not technically lying! -- but “shrewd” can also mean “hard,” as in a “shrewd knock.” So Prior is saying “you’re a hard-knocked debtor” but not realizing the other meaning of “shrewd”, “cunning”, applies.



quote:


But still the Knight kneeled upon the hard stones, so the Prior turned to him again. "What wouldst thou have?" quoth he sharply.

At these words, a slow red mounted into the Knight's cheeks; but still he knelt. "I would crave thy mercy," said he. "As thou hopest for Heaven's mercy, show mercy to me. Strip me not of my lands and so reduce a true knight to poverty."

"Thy day is broken and thy lands forfeit," said the man of law, plucking up his spirits at the Knight's humble speech.

Quoth Sir Richard, "Thou man of law, wilt thou not befriend me in mine hour of need?"

"Nay," said the other, "I hold with this holy Prior, who hath paid me my fees in hard gold, so that I am bounder to him."

"Wilt thou not be my friend, Sir Sheriff?" said Sir Richard.

"Nay, 'fore Heaven," quoth the Sheriff of Nottingham, "this is no business of mine, yet I will do what I may," and he nudged the Prior beneath the cloth with his knee. "Wilt thou not ease him of some of his debts, Sir Prior?"

In the Gest, the Sheriff won’t help at all; again, Pyle’s Sheriff is a bit kinder.

quote:

At this the Prior smiled grimly. "Pay me three hundred pounds, Sir Richard," said he, "and I will give thee quittance of thy debt."

"Thou knowest, Sir Prior, that it is as easy for me to pay four hundred pounds as three hundred," said Sir Richard. "But wilt thou not give me another twelvemonth to pay my debt?"

"Not another day," said the Prior sternly.

"And is this all thou wilt do for me?" asked the Knight.

"Now, out upon thee, false knight!" cried the Prior, bursting forth in anger. "Either pay thy debt as I have said, or release thy land and get thee gone from out my hall."

Then Sir Richard arose to his feet. "Thou false, lying priest!" said he in so stern a voice that the man of law shrunk affrighted, "I am no false knight, as thou knowest full well, but have even held my place in the press and the tourney. Hast thou so little courtesy that thou wouldst see a true knight kneel for all this time, or see him come into thy hall and never offer him meat or drink?"


Oh poo poo!

Again, the Abbot is just being *rude*. Discourteous, in an era when knightly morality is defined by “curtesye.” He’s making the Knight kneel this whole time without offering him a chair, he hasn’t offered him food or drink, all he’s talking about is money money money.

And this is an era when people could, and did, kill each other over that kind of thing with some frequency. Think back to Robin and Little John bashing each other with sticks for an hour over who got to cross a bridge first. This is a society where that kind of thing matters, and the Abbot is just ignoring it, secure behind his wealth and his status as a priest.

quote:

Then quoth the man of law in a trembling voice, "This is surely an ill way to talk of matters appertaining to business; let us be mild in speech. What wilt thou pay this knight, Sir Prior, to give thee release of his land?"

"I would have given him two hundred pounds," quoth the Prior, "but since he hath spoken so vilely to my teeth, not one groat over one hundred pounds will he get."

The Prior dares to call Sir Richard rude to him. Arrogant bastard.

quote:

"Hadst thou offered me a thousand pounds, false prior," said the Knight, "thou wouldst not have got an inch of my land." Then turning to where his men-at-arms stood near the door, he called, "Come hither," and beckoned with his finger; whereupon the tallest of them all came forward and handed him a long leathern bag. Sir Richard took the bag and shot from it upon the table a glittering stream of golden money. "Bear in mind, Sir Prior," said he, "that thou hast promised me quittance for three hundred pounds. Not one farthing above that shalt thou get." So saying, he counted out three hundred pounds and pushed it toward the Prior.


gently caress you, fatman. You want money, you’ll get your drat money. But you won’t get a drat thing else.

quote:

But now the Prior's hands dropped at his sides and the Prior's head hung upon his shoulder, for not only had he lost all hopes of the land, but he had forgiven the Knight one hundred pounds of his debt and had needlessly paid the man of law fourscore angels. To him he turned, and quoth he, "Give me back my money that thou hast."

"Nay," cried the other shrilly, "it is but my fee that thou didst pay me, and thou gettest it not back again." And he hugged his gown about him.

"Now, Sir Prior," quoth Sir Richard, "I have held my day and paid all the dues demanded of me; so, as there is no more betwixt us, I leave this vile place straightway." So saying, he turned upon his heel and strode away.

All this time the Sheriff had been staring with wide-open eyes and mouth agape at the tall man-at-arms, who stood as though carved out of stone. At last he gasped out, "Reynold Greenleaf!"

At this, the tall man-at-arms, who was no other than Little John, turned, grinning, to the Sheriff. "I give thee good den, fair gossip," quoth he. "I would say, sweet Sheriff, that I have heard all thy pretty talk this day, and it shall be duly told unto Robin Hood. So, farewell for the nonce, till we meet again in Sherwood Forest." Then he, also, turned and followed Sir Richard down the hall, leaving the Sheriff, all pale and amazed, shrunk together upon his chair.

This bit is Pyle’s addition, rendered necessary by his re-ordering earlier. The next two sections of the Gest *after* this point tell the story of Little John, while still in Sir Richard’s service, entering an archery competition in Nottingham, winning, entering the Sheriff’s service, fighting the cook, etc. as we saw above.

quote:

A merry feast it was to which Sir Richard came, but a sorry lot he left behind him, and little hunger had they for the princely food spread before them. Only the learned doctor was happy, for he had his fee.

Practice tip: get paid in advance!

This is a natural break point in the story, a section break in the Gest, so I’ll break this post off here and finish the rest of the chapter in the next post.




Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 12:43 on Aug 25, 2020

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Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound

Wilbur Swain posted:

This quote caused me to immediately recall a favorite illustration from my childhood and put it in context, thanks.



you didn't post the accompanying verse:



Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound

quote:

Now a twelvemonth and a day passed since Prior Vincent of Emmet sat at feast, and once more the mellow fall of another year had come. But the year had brought great change, I wot, to the lands of Sir Richard of the Lea; for, where before shaggy wild grasses grew upon the meadow lands, now all stretch away in golden stubble, betokening that a rich and plentiful crop had been gathered therefrom. A year had made a great change in the castle, also, for, where were empty moats and the crumbling of neglect, all was now orderly and well kept.

Bright shone the sun on battlement and tower, and in the blue air overhead a Hock of clattering jackdaws flew around the gilded weather vane and spire. Then, in the brightness of the morning, the drawbridge fell across the moat with a rattle and clank of chains, the gate of the castle swung slowly open, and a goodly array of steel-clad men-at-arms, with a knight all clothed in chain mail, as white as frost on brier and thorn of a winter morning, came flashing out from the castle courtyard. In his hand the Knight held a great spear, from the point of which fluttered a blood-red pennant as broad as the palm of one's hand. So this troop came forth from the castle, and in the midst of them walked three pack horses laden with parcels of divers shapes and kinds.

Thus rode forth good Sir Richard of the Lea to pay his debt to Robin Hood this bright and merry morn.

A year has passed, and it looks like Sir Richard decided to pay his debt back to Robin, not the Bishop of Hereford. Understandable.

quote:


Along the highway they wended their way, with measured tramp of feet and rattle and jingle of sword and harness. Onward they marched till they came nigh to Denby, where, from the top of a hill, they saw, over beyond the town, many gay flags and streamers floating in the bright air. Then Sir Richard turned to the man-at-arms nearest to him. "What is toward yonder at Denby today?" quoth he.

"Please Your Worship," answered the man-at-arms, "a merry fair is held there today, and a great wrestling match, to which many folk have come, for a prize hath been offered of a pipe of red wine, a fair golden ring, and a pair of gloves, all of which go to the best wrestler."

"Now, by my faith," quoth Sir Richard, who loved good manly sports right well, "this will be a goodly thing to see. Methinks we have to stay a little while on our journey, and see this merry sport." So he turned his horse's head aside toward Denby and the fair, and thither he and his men made their way.


gently caress yes, let's go to a fair! Fairs are the best.

Almost this entire section is Pyle's addition; in the Gest, this sequence at Denby Fair is only a few stanzas long, it isn't Denby but rather Wentbrydge, and none of the characters we're about to meet are given names. Denby is about an hour and a half south of Wentbridge, so this is Pyle rearranging the geography a bit to make everything happen more consistently around Sherwood, rather than Barnsdale.

quote:

Some background on medieval wrestling prizes:

quote:


The prize for an ordinary wrestling match was a ram: in this contest, however, the victor wins a bull, a saddled horse, a pair of gloves, a gold ring, and a cask of wine. This may suggest an "art" or literary context for the Gest.

https://d.lib.rochester.edu/teams/text/gest-of-robyn-hode

quote:


There they found a great hubbub of merriment. Flags and streamers were floating, tumblers were tumbling on the green, bagpipes were playing, and lads and lasses were dancing to the music. But the crowd were gathered most of all around a ring where the wrestling was going forward, and thither Sir Richard and his men turned their steps.

Now when the judges of the wrestling saw Sir Richard coming and knew who he was, the chief of them came down from the bench where he and the others sat, and went to the Knight and took him by the hand, beseeching him to come and sit with them and judge the sport. So Sir Richard got down from his horse and went with the others to the bench raised beside the ring.


quote:

More middle ages wrestling info:

quote:

Wrestling was not, by the fourteenth century, considered an aristocratic sport. In the portrait of the Miller in the General Prologue to The Canterbury Tales, Chaucer observes of this "churl" that "at wrastlynge he wolde have alwey the ram" (line 548). In Chaucer's Tale of Sir Thopas - a burlesque of the popular romances and ballads of the day - the effeminate hero engages in both wrestling and archery. In Gamelyn the hero only wrestles when he has been effectively disinherited.

https://d.lib.rochester.edu/teams/text/gest-of-robyn-hode

quote:


Now there had been great doings that morning, for a certain yeoman named Egbert, who came from Stoke over in Staffordshire, had thrown with ease all those that came against him; but a man of Denby, well known through all the countryside as William of the Scar, had been biding his time with the Stoke man; so, when Egbert had thrown everyone else, stout William leaped into the ring. Then a tough bout followed, and at last he threw Egbert heavily, whereat there was a great shouting and shaking of hands, for all the Denby men were proud of their wrestler.

When Sir Richard came, he found stout William, puffed up by the shouts of his friends, walking up and down the ring, daring anyone to come and try a throw with him. "Come one, come all!" quoth he. "Here stand I, William of the Scar, against any man. If there is none in Derbyshire to come against me, come all who will, from Nottingham, Stafford, or York, and if I do not make them one and all root the ground with their noses like swine in the forests, call me no more brave William the wrestler."


Dude talkin' big and challenging all comers. We know how this is gonna go down, right? Yeah we do. It's gonna be sweet, too.


quote:


At this all laughed; but above all the laughter a loud voice was heard to cry out, "Sin' thou talkest so big, here cometh one from Nottinghamshire to try a fall with thee, fellow"; and straightway a tall youth with a tough quarterstaff in his hand came pushing his way through the crowd and at last leaped lightly over the rope into the ring. He was not as heavy as stout William, but he was taller and broader in the shoulders, and all his joints were well knit. Sir Richard looked upon him keenly, then, turning to one of the judges, he said, "Knowest thou who this youth is? Methinks I have seen him before."

"Nay," said the judge, "he is a stranger to me."

Meantime, without a word, the young man, laying aside his quarterstaff, began to take off his jerkin and body clothing until he presently stood with naked arms and body; and a comely sight he was when so bared to the view, for his muscles were cut round and smooth and sharp like swift- running water.


Who is this tall, young, handsome, totally ripped stranger?

quote:


And now each man spat upon his hands and, clapping them upon his knees, squatted down, watching the other keenly, so as to take the vantage of him in the grip. Then like a flash they leaped together, and a great shout went up, for William had gotten the better hold of the two. For a short time they strained and struggled and writhed, and then stout William gave his most cunning trip and throw, but the stranger met it with greater skill than his, and so the trip came to nought. Then, of a sudden, with a twist and a wrench, the stranger loosed himself, and he of the scar found himself locked in a pair of arms that fairly made his ribs crack. So, with heavy, hot breathing, they stood for a while straining, their bodies all glistening with sweat, and great drops of sweat trickling down their faces. But the stranger's hug was so close that at last stout William's muscles softened under his grip, and he gave a sob. Then the youth put forth all his strength and gave a sudden trip with his heel and a cast over his right hip, and down stout William went, with a sickening thud, and lay as though he would never move hand nor foot again.


This is a well-described fight; we can almost see every movement in the match. Every strain and grab and throw.



quote:


There are a few surviving texts on medieval wrestling, such as the treatise of Master Ott:

quote:


Here begins the wrestling composed by Master Ott, God have mercy on him, who was wrestler to the noble Princes of Austria.

In all wrestling should there be three things. The first is skill. The second is quickness. The third is the proper application of strength. Concerning this, you should know that the best is quickness, because it prevents him from countering you. Thereafter you should remember that you should wrestle a weaker man in the Before [Vor], an equal opponent simultaneously [Indes], and a stronger man in the After [Nach]. In all wrestling in the Before, attend to quickness; in all simultaneous wrestling, attend to the balance [Waage]; and in all wrestling in the After, attend to the crook of the knee.

Ott advises a particular throw when wrestling an opponent of equal strength to yours:

quote:

When someone does this, and grasps with his left hand to your fingers and wants to unbalance you with the right, then send your right hand under his left arm around the body. And spring with your right foot before both of his feet, and throw him thus over your right hip.

https://chivalricfighting.wordpress...-of-master-ott/

So our mysterious ripped stranger is using techniques right out of a medieval wrestling textbook! I don't know that Pyle read Ott -- it seems more likely that wrestling is just wrestling and there are commonalities down the centuries -- but, still, cool aside.

quote:


But now no shout went up for the stranger, but an angry murmur was heard among the crowd, so easily had he won the match. Then one of the judges, a kinsman to William of the Scar, rose with trembling lip and baleful look. Quoth he, "If thou hath slain that man it will go ill with thee, let me tell thee, fellow." But the stranger answered boldly, "He took his chance with me as I took mine with him. No law can touch me to harm me, even if I slew him, so that it was fairly done in the wrestling ring."

"That we shall see," said the judge, scowling upon the youth, while once more an angry murmur ran around the crowd; for, as I have said, the men of Denby were proud of stout William of the Scar.

Then up spoke Sir Richard gently. "Nay," said he, "the youth is right; if the other dieth, he dieth in the wrestling ring, where he took his chance, and was cast fairly enow."

But in the meantime three men had come forward and lifted stout William from the ground and found that he was not dead, though badly shaken by his heavy fall. Then the chief judge rose and said, "Young man, the prize is duly thine. Here is the red-gold ring, and here the gloves, and yonder stands the pipe of wine to do with whatsoever thou dost list."

At this, the youth, who had donned his clothes and taken up his staff again, bowed without a word, then, taking the gloves and the ring, and thrusting the one into his girdle and slipping the other upon his thumb, he turned and, leaping lightly over the ropes again, made his way through the crowd, and was gone.

"Now, I wonder who yon youth may be," said the judge, turning to Sir Richard, "he seemeth like a stout Saxon from his red cheeks and fair hair. This William of ours is a stout man, too, and never have I seen him cast in the ring before, albeit he hath not yet striven with such great wrestlers as Thomas of Cornwall, Diccon of York, and young David of Doncaster. Hath he not a firm foot in the ring, thinkest thou, Sir Richard?"

Wait! Have we seen one of those names before?

quote:


"Ay, truly, and yet this youth threw him fairly, and with wondrous ease. I much wonder who he can be." Thus said Sir Richard in a thoughtful voice.

For a time the Knight stood talking to those about him, but at last he arose and made ready to depart, so he called his men about him and, tightening the girths of his saddle, he mounted his horse once more.

Meanwhile the young stranger had made his way through the crowd, but, as he passed, he heard all around him such words muttered as "Look at the cockerel!" "Behold how he plumeth himself!" "I dare swear he cast good William unfairly!" "Yea, truly, saw ye not birdlime upon his hands?" "It would be well to cut his cock's comb!" To all this the stranger paid no heed, but strode proudly about as though he heard it not. So he walked slowly across the green to where the booth stood wherein was dancing, and standing at the door he looked in on the sport. As he stood thus, a stone struck his arm of a sudden with a sharp jar, and, turning, he saw that an angry crowd of men had followed him from the wrestling ring. Then, when they saw him turn so, a great hooting and yelling arose from all, so that the folk came running out from the dancing booth to see what was to do. At last a tall, broad-shouldered, burly blacksmith strode forward from the crowd swinging a mighty blackthorn club in his hand.

"Wouldst thou come here to our fair town of Denby, thou Jack in the Box, to overcome a good honest lad with vile, juggling tricks?" growled he in a deep voice like the bellow of an angry bull. "Take that, then!" And of a sudden he struck a blow at the youth that might have felled an ox. But the other turned the blow deftly aside, and gave back another so terrible that the Denby man went down with a groan, as though he had been smitten by lightning. When they saw their leader fall, the crowd gave another angry shout; but the stranger placed his back against the tent near which he stood, swinging his terrible staff, and so fell had been the blow that he struck the stout smith that none dared to come within the measure of his cudgel, so the press crowded back, like a pack of dogs from a bear at bay. But now some coward hand from behind threw a sharp jagged stone that smote the stranger on the crown, so that he staggered back, and the red blood gushed from the cut and ran down his face and over his jerkin. Then, seeing him dazed with this vile blow, the crowd rushed upon him, so that they overbore him and he fell beneath their feet.

Now it might have gone ill with the youth, even to the losing of his young life, had not Sir Richard come to this fair; for of a sudden, shouts were heard, and steel flashed in the air, and blows were given with the flat of swords, while through the midst of the crowd Sir Richard of the Lea came spurring on his white horse. Then the crowd, seeing the steel-clad knight and the armed men, melted away like snow on the warm hearth, leaving the young man all bloody and dusty upon the ground.

Finding himself free, the youth arose and, wiping the blood from his face, looked up. Quoth he, "Sir Richard of the Lea, mayhap thou hast saved my life this day."

"Who art thou that knowest Sir Richard of the Lea so well?" quoth the Knight. "Methinks I have seen thy face before, young man."

"Yea, thou hast," said the youth, "for men call me David of Doncaster."


We have! Stout David!

David of Doncaster is only named in one of the Child ballads, but that one is Robin Hood and the Golden Arrow -- he's the guy who speaks up and warns Robin that the Sheriff's archery contest is a trap. Pyle's woven him throughout the rest of the stories as another named member of the band, and slipped him in here as the unnamed yoeman wrestler from Robin's band who Sir Richard luckily saves.


quote:


"Ha!" said Sir Richard, "I wonder that I knew thee not, David; but thy beard hath grown longer, and thou thyself art more set in manhood since this day twelvemonth. Come hither into the tent, David, and wash the blood from thy face. And thou, Ralph, bring him straightway a clean jerkin. Now I am sorry for thee, yet I am right glad that I have had a chance to pay a part of my debt of kindness to thy good master Robin Hood, for it might have gone ill with thee had I not come, young man."

There's a certain parallelism of theme here: Sir Richard's problems all began when his son was unfairly punished for accidentally slaying someone in a sporting competition. Now, just as Robin helped reverse that injustice, Sir Richard has helped a member of Robin's band avoid the same kind of ill that befell Sir Richard's son.

quote:


So saying, the Knight led David into the tent, and there the youth washed the blood from his face and put on the clean jerkin.

In the meantime a whisper had gone around from those that stood nearest that this was none other than the great David of Doncaster, the best wrestler in all the mid-country, who only last spring had cast stout Adam o' Lincoln in the ring at Selby, in Yorkshire, and now held the mid-country champion belt, Thus it happened that when young David came forth from the tent along with Sir Richard, the blood all washed from his face, and his soiled jerkin changed for a clean one, no sounds of anger were heard, but all pressed forward to see the young man, feeling proud that one of the great wrestlers of England should have entered the ring at Denby fair. For thus fickle is a mass of men.

People are the worst.

quote:


Then Sir Richard called aloud, "Friends, this is David of Doncaster; so think it no shame that your Denby man was cast by such a wrestler. He beareth you no ill will for what hath passed, but let it be a warning to you how ye treat strangers henceforth. Had ye slain him it would have been an ill day for you, for Robin Hood would have harried your town as the kestrel harries the dovecote. I have bought the pipe of wine from him, and now I give it freely to you to drink as ye list. But never hereafterward fall upon a man for being a stout yeoman."

At this all shouted amain; but in truth they thought more of the wine than of the Knight's words. Then Sir Richard, with David beside him and his men-at-arms around, turned about and left the fair.

But in after days, when the men that saw that wrestling bout were bent with age, they would shake their heads when they heard of any stalwart game, and say, "Ay, ay; but thou shouldst have seen the great David of Doncaster cast stout William of the Scar at Denby fair."


I love that list bit there. It's such a great coda. It makes me feel like I missed out by not being there. But at the same time, I kinda was, because Pyle's writing is so clear and visual that I almost feel like I saw it.

quote:


Robin Hood stood in the merry greenwood with Little John and most of his stout yeomen around him, awaiting Sir Richard's coming. At last a glint of steel was seen through the brown forest leaves, and forth from the covert into the open rode Sir Richard at the head of his men. He came straight forward to Robin Hood and leaping from off his horse, clasped the yeoman in his arms.

"Why, how now," said Robin, after a time, holding Sir Richard off and looking at him from top to toe, "methinks thou art a gayer bird than when I saw thee last."

"Yes, thanks to thee, Robin," said the Knight, laying his hand upon the yeoman's shoulder. "But for thee I would have been wandering in misery in a far country by this time. But I have kept my word, Robin, and have brought back the money that thou didst lend me, and which I have doubled four times over again, and so become rich once more. Along with this money I have brought a little gift to thee and thy brave men from my dear lady and myself." Then, turning to his men, he called aloud, "Bring forth the pack horses."

But Robin stopped him. "Nay, Sir Richard," said he, "think it not bold of me to cross thy bidding, but we of Sherwood do no business till after we have eaten and drunk." Whereupon, taking Sir Richard by the hand, he led him to the seat beneath the greenwood tree, while others of the chief men of the band came and seated themselves around. Then quoth Robin, "How cometh it that I saw young David of Doncaster with thee and thy men, Sir Knight?"

Then straightway the Knight told all about his stay at Denby and of the happening at the fair, and how it was like to go hard with young David; so he told his tale, and quoth he, "It was this, good Robin, that kept me so late on the way, otherwise I would have been here an hour agone."

Then, when he had done speaking, Robin stretched out his hand and grasped the Knight's palm. Quoth he in a trembling voice, "I owe thee a debt I can never hope to repay, Sir Richard, for let me tell thee, I would rather lose my right hand than have such ill befall young David of Doncaster as seemed like to come upon him at Denby."

So they talked until after a while one came forward to say that the feast was spread; whereupon all arose and went thereto. When at last it was done, the Knight called upon his men to bring the pack horses forward, which they did according to his bidding. Then one of the men brought the Knight a strongbox, which he opened and took from it a bag and counted out five hundred pounds, the sum he had gotten from Robin.

"Sir Richard," quoth Robin, "thou wilt pleasure us all if thou wilt keep that money as a gift from us of Sherwood. Is it not so, my lads?"

Then all shouted "Ay" with a mighty voice.

"I thank you all deeply," said the Knight earnestly, "but think it not ill of me if I cannot take it. Gladly have I borrowed it from you, but it may not be that I can take it as a gift."

Then Robin Hood said no more but gave the money to Little John to put away in the treasury, for he had shrewdness enough to know that nought breeds ill will and heart bitterness like gifts forced upon one that cannot choose but take them.

Then Sir Richard had the packs laid upon the ground and opened, whereupon a great shout went up that made the forest ring again, for lo, there were tenscore bows of finest Spanish yew, all burnished till they shone again, and each bow inlaid with fanciful figures in silver, yet not inlaid so as to mar their strength. Beside these were tenscore quivers of leather embroidered with golden thread, and in each quiver were a score of shafts with burnished heads that shone like silver; each shaft was feathered with peacock's plumes, innocked with silver.

Sir Richard gave to each yeoman a bow and a quiver of arrows, but to Robin he gave a stout bow inlaid with the cunningest workmanship in gold, while each arrow in his quiver was innocked with gold.

Then all shouted again for joy of the fair gift, and all swore among themselves that they would die if need be for Sir Richard and his lady.

At last the time came when Sir Richard must go, whereupon Robin Hood called his band around him, and each man of the yeomen took a torch in his hand to light the way through the woodlands. So they came to the edge of Sherwood, and there the Knight kissed Robin upon the cheeks and left him and was gone.

Thus Robin Hood helped a noble knight out of his dire misfortunes, that else would have smothered the happiness from his life.



Sir Richard knows how to repay a debt: with absolutely pimp gear. Fuckin' peacock fletching, bro.

Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 02:01 on Aug 27, 2020

Grenrow
Apr 11, 2016

Hieronymous Alloy posted:


Sir Richard knows how to repay a debt: with absolutely pimp gear. Fuckin' peacock fletching, bro.

Richard's gift of the peacock arrows here is actually not that different from the bows, which are decorated but not so much that it becomes impractical. Peacock arrows were pretty common in medieval arrow fletchings. The Knight's Yeoman in the Canterbury Tales famously has some peacock arrows tucked into his belt, which has been the subject of much debate. Here's the first part of the Yeoman's description, you can see the similarities to the way Robin is always described.

Geoffrey Chaucer posted:

A yeman hadde he and servantz namo
At that tyme, for hym liste ride so,
And he was clad in cote and hood of grene.
A sheef of pecok arwes, bright and kene,
Under his belt he bar ful thriftily,
(wel koude he dresse his takel yemanly:
His arwes drouped noght with fetheres lowe)

Many literary minded types and people who don't read that much into the military side of scholarship generally portray peacock arrows as being made purely for decorative or ceremonial purposes, but in reality, the fletchings weren't made from the showy feathers you think of in a peacock's tail. A medieval fletcher would have used the "primary pinions," which are still visually distinct from the swan and goose feathers that were also commonly used and were like a reddish-brown color. I'm taking this all from Kenneth Thompson's article "The Yeoman's 'Pecok Arwes'" published in the Chaucer Review. The price of peacock fletchings seems to have been a little more expensive than goose, but not by that much. Thompson thinks the peacock arrows were considered better for performance, and were used mostly in contexts like hunting or target shooting (I think this part of the article is a little more tenuous, but it's plausible). For someone like the Yeoman in Canterbury Tales or Robin and the bros here, it's supposed to show that they know what they're doing and that they can afford quality gear. A little like someone going shooting at a gun range today with basic plinking ammo vs someone going out there with match-grade bullets. The real expense of the arrows Richard is giving is from the nocks and (presumably steel) arrowheads, rather than the fletchings.

As far as the bows are concerned, there's accounting records that mention "painted bows" in medieval England that were more expensive than the regular "white" bows but no real description of how they might have been painted. Probably nothing so fanciful as Richard's silver inlays here!

Exasperated Badger
Jun 9, 2009

"Come," he says. "Let me tell you a story. Once, there were four stalwart heroes..."
Good to see 'juggling' used in its old form to connote cheating and trickery. And seconding HA on the coda--for my money it's the best single bit of the book. It also faintly echoes the ending of the St. Crispin's Day speech, now that I'm thinking about it:

Henry IV posted:

And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.


https://web.archive.org/web/20081121015933/http://www.the-exiles.org/Article%20Brief%20His%20of%20Eng%20Wrestling.htm

This is a useful resource on folk English wrestling styles. The town centre of Lancaster is 95 miles away from Derbyshire, where Derby is, and less northern than Wentbridge. So Pyle's rearrangements make it more likely the wrestling style used by Big Dave was of the brutal, any-hold-goes style.

Second, the descriptions of how Big Dave is the best wrestler in the Midlands and currently holds the midcountry championship belt. Dave would be, in a modern WWE context, a rising star in the midcard, holding a belt like the Intercontinental or US title; maybe he'll win the World title in a few years, watch this kid. So it ties back to Robin being a good leader who knows how to spot, recruit, and nurture talent, and is also a great bit of world-building: we are indirectly given the scale and bounds of Robin and his gang's operations and influence: he's really just a problem/ legend for local law enforcement, and there's a whole wider Merry England out there beyond the scope of these stories.

Exasperated Badger fucked around with this message at 05:52 on Aug 27, 2020

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


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Morbid Hound

Grenrow posted:

Richard's gift of the peacock arrows here is actually not that different from the bows, which are decorated but not so much that it becomes impractical. Peacock arrows were pretty common in medieval arrow fletchings. . . . .

For someone like the Yeoman in Canterbury Tales or Robin and the bros here, it's supposed to show that they know what they're doing and that they can afford quality gear. A little like someone going shooting at a gun range today with basic plinking ammo vs someone going out there with match-grade bullets. The real expense of the arrows Richard is giving is from the nocks and (presumably steel) arrowheads, rather than the fletchings.

That's such great detail, thanks! It cycles back to showing how Sir Richard is a Good Knight -- he knows how to equip his friends in the best sweet tactical gear.

Exasperated Badger posted:

Good to see 'juggling' used in its old form to connote cheating and trickery. .. . .

So it ties back to Robin being a good leader who knows how to spot, recruit, and nurture talent, and is also a great bit of world-building: we are indirectly given the scale and bounds of Robin and his gang's operations and influence: he's really just a problem/ legend for local law enforcement, and there's a whole wider Merry England out there beyond the scope of these stories.

Yeah, one thing I'm really getting out of this deep read is that there's a *lot* more in here on the nature of good leadership than I'd realized before. A lot of it has to be deliberate on Pyle's part, too, because he makes all these choices very deliberately and consistently in the same directions.

This is a Victorian-era children's book -- Pyle is trying very deliberately to impart Good Lessons for Children -- but rather than with explicit morals, he's having his characters do it by example. Be a Good Stout Bro. Don't start fights, but don't run from a fight if a fight is needed. Take a Joke. Help those in need.

Xander77
Apr 6, 2009

Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.



quote:

"Yea, truly, saw ye not birdlime upon his hands?"
Any explanations from our medieval hobbyists?

Siivola
Dec 23, 2012

Birdlime is a glue used to trap birds: Just spread on a branch and wait. This is still practiced in Southern Europe, despite the EU's best efforts.

Grenrow
Apr 11, 2016

Hieronymous Alloy posted:

That's such great detail, thanks! It cycles back to showing how Sir Richard is a Good Knight -- he knows how to equip his friends in the best sweet tactical gear.


It's also furthering the dynamic of captain/retainer that has been previously established. Like the corrupt lawyer receiving clothes from the Bishop or Little John getting livery from the Sheriff, Sir Richard is equipping his retinue men with good gear, which historically was often the case. Even though the Merry Men won't be permanently attached to his household, they're still part of Sir Richard's local recruiting ecosystem and military community, so it's important that he maintains ties to them. If Sir Richard wanted to participate in a royal campaign, he would call on his own retainers and men-at-arms to show up, but he would also look to use these ties he's built among the military community to rustle up some additional manpower in a hurry. Instead of having to go out and find forty individual guys who are experienced archers all over the shire, he can go to Robin (their captain) and subcontract them as additional muscle. That way, if his "household" crew and local guys are thirty men-at-arms and sixty archers, he can now show up to the muster with a 130 man force without too much fuss or extra hassle. Edward I once tried to expand the infantry forces available to the English crown by using Commissioners of Array to go out and drag in recruits, but a major problem with that effort was that the knights and aristocrats nearby had already recruited the motivated, equipped soldiers to be part of their retinues. Sir Richard is playing the long game here, paying debts and demonstrating his generosity while also increasing his potential military strength.

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound

Siivola posted:

Birdlime is a glue used to trap birds: Just spread on a branch and wait. This is still practiced in Southern Europe, despite the EU's best efforts.

Right!

And putting sticky substances on your hands or body is still forbidden in modern competitive wrestling, because it can give you an advantage in gripping or leverage.

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound
The next section may be delayed for a few days because I can't find sources for it. Starting to suspect Pyle just wrote a chapter on his own and slipped it in, as it were.

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


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Morbid Hound
PART VI

This next section is really interesting because this is where Pyle goes off-script; almost nothing in the next two chapters is derived from a Child Ballad. Instead, he appears to be drawing on two fairly interesting sources. The first is

A general and true history of the lives and actions of the most famous highwaymen, murderers, street-robbers, &c. : To which is added, a genuine account of the voyages and plunders of the most noted pirates. Interspersed with several remarkable tryals of the most notorious malefactors, at the Sessions-House in the Old Baily, London. , published in 1734 by one "Captain Charles Johnson". Some critics have alleged that "Captain Charles Johnson" may have been a pseudonym for Daniel Defoe, but that's . . . unproven at best and modern scholars consider it fairly unlikely (for discussion see David Cordingly's Under the Black Flag).

quote:

Although related in part to Defoe’s History, this work is largely based on Captain Alexander Smith’s 1714 The History of the Lives of the Most Noted Highway-men and Captain Johnson’s 1724 A General History of the Pyrates. The section on pirates includes chapters on Avery, Martel, Blackbeard, Bonnet, England, Vane, Rackam, Mary Read, Anne Bonny, Davis, Roberts and Morgan. The first edition was published in 1734

https://www.baumanrarebooks.com/rar...men/117000.aspx

I can't find a copy of the Captain Alexander Smith book in Google Books, though, so this is the source I'm working from. I feel comfortable doing so because I can confirm that Pyle used *this* same text in later works; in 1891 Pyle edited a new version of Exquemelin's Buccaneers of America, adding four stories from this text/ (Howard Pyle: American Master Rediscovered, p. 70). Pyle also published, in magazines like Harper's, numerous individual "pirate tales" drawing on this text, which were later collected & published posthumously in 1921 as "Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates.".

The second source Pyle draws on for the next section is Robin Hood: A Collection of All the Ancient Poems, Songs, and Ballads, Now Extant, Relative to that Celebrated English Outlaw, published in 1795 by one Joseph Ritson.

Ritson is interesting for two reasons:

(1) The first is because he was the first person to publish, in print, a giant collection of all available Robin Hood ballads. In the process he scooped up a lot of stuff, a lot of which Child left out of his later, more scholarly collection of ballads. Ritson was the first person to publish the Gest in print (at least, that we know of). When Sir Walter Scott put Robin Hood in Ivanhoe, Ritson's work was his source material.

(2) The second reason is that Ritson was both a Jacobite and a Jacobin, and as a result he is often given credit for the modern idea of Robin Hood as a popular-audience Marxist, robbing from the rich in order to give to the poor. There is some truth to this; Ritson wrote a "true facts" style prologue to his collection, and in it he sets Robin up as a sort of proto-Jacobin for the English peasantry:

quote:

In these forests, and with [his] company, he for many years reigned like an independent sovereign; at perpetual war, indeed, with the king of England, and all his subjects, with an exception, however, of the poor and needy, and such as were ‘desolate and oppressed,’ or stood in need of his protection

https://thehistoryvault.co.uk/inventing-an-outlaw-joseph-ritsons-robin-hood-1795/


Thing is, though . . . on the one hand, it's not valid to say that something like the Gest is "Marxist," because it predates Marxist analysis by hundreds of years and was written in a society with an entirely different kind of structure.

On the other hand, though, . . . even in the earliest ballads like the Gest we see a Robin who is stealing from the rich -- and even specifically rich landlords-- helping those in need, and who "dyde pore men moch god." While Robin may not be robbing the rich in order to give to the poor -- not yet, anyway -- he is definitely robbing the rich, and he's definitely giving to the poor.

So I'd argue that the core themes were always there in the legend; it's just that the theory wasn't really there yet in 1300 to connect the dots.

So that's all stuff to be kept in mind as we move through the next two chapters.

Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 01:10 on Aug 30, 2020

Xander77
Apr 6, 2009

Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.



I'm not entirely sure how "robbing from the rich to give to the poor" is Marxist. It's socialist-Christian if anything (which also predates Marx).

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


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Morbid Hound

Xander77 posted:

I'm not entirely sure how "robbing from the rich to give to the poor" is Marxist. It's socialist-Christian if anything (which also predates Marx).

Right, exactly. I probably should've put "jacobin" there instead of "marxist" to make my point clearer. You'll get modern critics who try to impose modern frameworks onto older works, and it just doesn't work.

But there is a certain parallelism between "rob the rich and give to the poor" and "from each according to his ability, to each according to his need." It isn't the same analysis at all, but both are driven by similar underlying societal injustices.

Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 13:31 on Aug 30, 2020

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound

quote:


COLD WINTER had passed and spring had come. No leafy thickness had yet clad the woodlands, but the budding leaves hung like a tender mist about the trees. In the open country the meadow lands lay a sheeny green, the cornfields a dark velvety color, for they were thick and soft with the growing blades. The plowboy shouted in the sun, and in the purple new- turned furrows flocks of birds hunted for fat worms. All the broad moist earth smiled in the warm light, and each little green hill clapped its hand for joy.

On a deer's hide, stretched on the ground in the open in front of the greenwood tree, sat Robin Hood basking in the sun like an old dog fox. Leaning back with his hands clasped about his knees, he lazily watched Little John rolling a stout bowstring from long strands of hempen thread, wetting the palms of his hands ever and anon, and rolling the cord upon his thigh. Near by sat Allan a Dale fitting a new string to his harp.


We know this pattern by now: we open in the bucolic greenwood. What cheer?

quote:

Quoth Robin at last, "Methinks I would rather roam this forest in the gentle springtime than be King of all merry England. What palace in the broad world is as fair as this sweet woodland just now, and what king in all the world hath such appetite for plover's eggs and lampreys as I for juicy venison and sparkling ale? Gaffer Swanthold speaks truly when he saith, 'Better a crust with content than honey with a sour heart.'"

Thesis: being forest bros is pretty great!

Plover's eggs and lampreys were considered luxury delicacies in the medieval era. King Henry thr First is reported to have died from eating "a surfeit of lampreys" against medical advice.

quote:

The lamprey is a long, eel-like, blood-sucking parasitic jawless fish with a creepy round mouth covered in sharp teeth. It takes real skill – and I mean rough, messy, time-consuming toil – to turn this nasty bottom feeder into something edible, let alone delicious. I’m not talking French culinary skills like a rapid-fire parsley chiffonade or even filleting a regular clean-fleshed sea fish. No. Lampreys are muscular creatures that must be hung up by the head and bled out while still alive, the phallic body held down as it writhes out its last breath. Then the limp rod of flesh is thrown into boiling water where, I believe, it secretes slime that is then scraped off the exterior. As it cooks, its grayish brown mucus floats to the surface of the water and must be skimmed off. The almost completely boneless body is chopped into rough chunks, thrown onto a sizzling pan and browned before finishing off in a heavenly sauce made of the lamprey’s own blood and plenty of local Bordeaux wine, thickened with a bit of toasted flour.



The result? That type of “Dear Lord, this is good,” flavor that makes my eyes close as I zone out mid-conversation and smile like a fool in love for the rest of the evening. The lamprey itself is silky smooth and tender, the flesh falling right off the grey and black spotted skin. The meat is slightly murky, almost muddy in flavor, but this quality is balanced beautifully by the sauce into which it is submerged.

https://thatbestbite.com/2017/06/26/lamprey-a-la-bordelaise-at-brasserie-le-noailles/


quote:

The eggs of plovers [were] considered to be a delicacy, generally cream or buff-coloured with dark brown spots or blotches, generally replaced by eggs of various species of gull (black- headed, lesser black-backed, great black-backed, etc.), which are similar in colour. In the UK they can only be gathered up to April the 14th and for home consumption only. Their sale is prohibited. When cooked, they may be served hot or cold; if the latter, they are often served, as here, on a bed of moss.

https://bridesheadcastle.tumblr.com/post/4135439789/plovers-eggs-definition-the-eggs-of-plovers

So, um, yeah, all things considered, I think "venison and ale" come off the winners in that comparison. But maybe that's just me.

quote:


"Yea," quoth Little John, as he rubbed his new-made bowstring with yellow beeswax, "the life we lead is the life for me. Thou speakest of the springtime, but methinks even the winter hath its own joys. Thou and I, good master, have had more than one merry day, this winter past, at the Blue Boar. Dost thou not remember that night thou and Will Stutely and Friar Tuck and I passed at that same hostelry with the two beggars and the strolling friar?"

"Yea," quoth merry Robin, laughing, "that was the night that Will Stutely must needs snatch a kiss from the stout hostess, and got a canakin of ale emptied over his head for his pains."

"Truly, it was the same," said Little John, laughing also. "Methinks that was a goodly song that the strolling friar sang. Friar Tuck, thou hast a quick ear for a tune, dost thou not remember it?"

"I did have the catch of it one time," said Tuck. "Let me see," and he touched his forefinger to his forehead in thought, humming to himself, and stopping ever and anon to fit what he had got to what he searched for in his mind. At last he found it all and clearing his throat, sang merrily:

quote:

"In the blossoming hedge the robin cock sings,
For the sun it is merry and bright,
And he joyfully hops and he flutters his wings,
For his heart is all full of delight.
For the May bloometh fair,
And there's little of care,
And plenty to eat in the Maytime rare.
When the flowers all die,
Then off he will fly,
To keep himself warm
In some jolly old barn
Where the snow and the wind neither chill him nor harm.

"And such is the life of the strolling friar,
With aplenty to eat and to drink;
For the goodwife will keep him a seat by the fire,
And the pretty girls smile at his wink.
Then he lustily trolls
As he onward strolls,
A rollicking song for the saving of souls.
When the wind doth blow,
With the coming of snow,
There's a place by the fire
For the fatherly friar,
And a crab in the bowl for his heart's desire."


Thus Friar Tuck sang in a rich and mellow voice, rolling his head from side to side in time with the music, and when he had done, all clapped their hands and shouted with laughter, for the song fitted him well.

"In very sooth," quoth Little John, "it is a goodly song, and, were I not a yeoman of Sherwood Forest, I had rather be a strolling friar than aught else in the world."

"Yea, it is a goodly song," said Robin Hood, "but methought those two burly beggars told the merrier tales and led the merrier life. Dost thou not remember what that great black-bearded fellow told of his begging at the fair in York?"

"Yea," said Little John, "but what told the friar of the harvest home in Kentshire? I hold that he led a merrier life than the other two."

"Truly, for the honor of the cloth," quoth Friar Tuck, "I hold with my good gossip, Little John."

"Now," quoth Robin, "I hold to mine own mind. But what sayst thou, Little John, to a merry adventure this fair day? Take thou a friar's gown from our chest of strange garments, and don the same, and I will stop the first beggar I meet and change clothes with him. Then let us wander the country about, this sweet day, and see what befalls each of us."

"That fitteth my mind," quoth Little John, "so let us forth, say I."

So that's our frame; Little John is going to dress up as a strolling friar, Robin will dress up as a beggar, and they'll come back and compare notes on who had the merrier jests. This is of course all Pyle, just the mechanic he's using to weave the next two chapters together.

quote:

Thereupon Little John and Friar Tuck went to the storehouse of the band, and there chose for the yeoman the robe of a Gray Friar. Then they came forth again, and a mighty roar of laughter went up, for not only had the band never seen Little John in such guise before, but the robe was too short for him by a good palm's-breadth. But Little John's hands were folded in his loose sleeves, and Little John's eyes were cast upon the ground, and at his girdle hung a great, long string of beads.

And now Little John took up his stout staff, at the end of which hung a chubby little leathern pottle, such as palmers carry at the tips of their staves; but in it was something, I wot, more like good Malmsey than cold spring water, such as godly pilgrims carry. Then up rose Robin and took his stout staff in his hand, likewise, and slipped ten golden angels into his pouch; for no beggar's garb was among the stores of the band, so he was fain to run his chance of meeting a beggar and buying his clothes of him.

So, all being made ready, the two yeomen set forth on their way, striding lustily along all in the misty morning. Thus they walked down the forest path until they came to the highway, and then along the highway till it split in twain, leading on one hand to Blyth and on the other to Gainsborough. Here the yeomen stopped.

Quoth jolly Robin, "Take thou the road to Gainsborough, and I will take that to Blyth. So, fare thee well, holy father, and mayst thou not ha' cause to count thy beads in earnest ere we meet again."

"Good den, good beggar that is to be," quoth Little John, "and mayst thou have no cause to beg for mercy ere I see thee next."

So each stepped sturdily upon his way until a green hill rose between them, and the one was hid from the sight of the other.

And they're off! We'll be following Little John first.

This section appears to be based on a single paragraph in "A general and true history of the lives and actions of the most famous highwaymen", cited above. I'll post the paragraph at the end for comparison; the biggest change is "Captain Smith" reports it as an adventure of Robin's, not Little John's.

quote:

Little John walked along, whistling, for no one was nigh upon all the road. In the budding hedges the little birds twittered merrily, and on either hand the green hills swept up to the sky, the great white clouds of springtime sailing slowly over their crowns in lazy flight. Up hill and down dale walked Little John, the fresh wind blowing in his face and his robes fluttering behind him, and so at last he came to a crossroad that led to Tuxford. Here he met three pretty lasses, each bearing a basket of eggs to market. Quoth he, "Whither away, fair maids?" And he stood in their path, holding his staff in front of them, to stop them.

Then they huddled together and nudged one another, and one presently spake up and said, "We are going to the Tuxford market, holy friar, to sell our eggs."




La!

quote:

"Now out upon it!" quoth Little John, looking upon them with his head on one side. "Surely, it is a pity that such fair lasses should be forced to carry eggs to market. Let me tell you, an I had the shaping of things in this world, ye should all three have been clothed in the finest silks, and ride upon milk-white horses, with pages at your side, and feed upon nothing but whipped cream and strawberries; for such a life would surely befit your looks."

At this speech all three of the pretty maids looked down, blushing and simpering. One said, "La!" another, "Marry, a' maketh sport of us!" and the third, "Listen, now, to the holy man!" But at the same time they looked at Little John from out the corners of their eyes.

"Now, look you," said Little John, "I cannot see such dainty damsels as ye are carrying baskets along a highroad. Let me take them mine own self, and one of you, if ye will, may carry my staff for me."

"Nay," said one of the lasses, "but thou canst not carry three baskets all at one time."

"Yea, but I can," said Little John, "and that I will show you presently. I thank the good Saint Wilfred that he hath given me a pretty wit. Look ye, now. Here I take this great basket, so; here I tie my rosary around the handle, thus; and here I slip the rosary over my head and sling the basket upon my back, in this wise." And Little John did according to his words, the basket hanging down behind him like a peddler's pack; then, giving his staff to one of the maids, and taking a basket upon either arm, he turned his face toward Tuxford Town and stepped forth merrily, a laughing maid on either side, and one walking ahead, carrying the staff. In this wise they journeyed along, and everyone they met stopped and looked after them, laughing, for never had anybody seen such a merry sight as this tall, strapping Gray Friar, with robes all too short for him, laden with eggs, and tramping the road with three pretty lasses. For this Little John cared not a whit, but when such folks gave jesting words to him he answered back as merrily, speech for speech.

So they stepped along toward Tuxford, chatting and laughing, until they came nigh to the town. Here Little John stopped and set down the baskets, for he did not care to go into the town lest he should, perchance, meet some of the Sheriff's men. "Alas! sweet chucks," quoth he, "here I must leave you. I had not thought to come this way, but I am glad that I did so. Now, ere we part, we must drink sweet friendship." So saying, he unslung the leathern pottle from the end of his staff, and, drawing the stopper therefrom, he handed it to the lass who had carried his staff, first wiping the mouth of the pottle upon his sleeve. Then each lass took a fair drink of what was within, and when it had passed all around, Little John finished what was left, so that not another drop could be squeezed from it. Then, kissing each lass sweetly, he wished them all good den, and left them. But the maids stood looking after him as he walked away whistling. "What a pity," quoth one, "that such a stout, lusty lad should be in holy orders."

"Marry," quoth Little John to himself, as he strode along, "yon was no such ill happening; Saint Dunstan send me more of the like."

That little interlude with the three maids isn't in any source I've found, but no such ill tale for all that.

quote:

After he had trudged along for a time he began to wax thirsty again in the warmth of the day. He shook his leathern pottle beside his ear, but not a sound came therefrom. Then he placed it to his lips and tilted it high aloft, but not a drop was there. "Little John! Little John!" said he sadly to himself, shaking his head the while, "woman will be thy ruin yet, if thou dost not take better care of thyself."

But at last he reached the crest of a certain hill, and saw below a sweet little thatched inn lying snugly in the dale beneath him, toward which the road dipped sharply. At the sight of this, a voice within him cried aloud, "I give thee joy, good friend, for yonder is thy heart's delight, to wit, a sweet rest and a cup of brown beer." So he quickened his pace down the hill and so came to the little inn, from which hung a sign with a stag's head painted upon it. In front of the door a clucking hen was scratching in the dust with a brood of chickens about her heels, the sparrows were chattering of household affairs under the eaves, and all was so sweet and peaceful that Little John's heart laughed within him. Beside the door stood two stout cobs with broad soft-padded saddles, well fitted for easy traveling, and speaking of rich guests in the parlor. In front of the door three merry fellows, a tinker, a peddler, and a beggar, were seated on a bench in the sun quaffing stout ale.

"I give you good den, sweet friends," quoth Little John, striding up to where they sat.

"Give thee good den, holy father," quoth the merry Beggar with a grin. "But look thee, thy gown is too short. Thou hadst best cut a piece off the top and tack it to the bottom, so that it may be long enough. But come, sit beside us here and take a taste of ale, if thy vows forbid thee not."

"Nay," quoth Little John, also grinning, "the blessed Saint Dunstan hath given me a free dispensation for all indulgence in that line." And he thrust his hand into his pouch for money to pay his score.

"Truly," quoth the Tinker, "without thy looks belie thee, holy friar, the good Saint Dunstan was wise, for without such dispensation his votary is like to ha' many a penance to make. Nay, take thy hand from out thy pouch, brother, for thou shalt not pay this shot. Ho, landlord, a pot of ale!"

So the ale was brought and given to Little John. Then, blowing the froth a little way to make room for his lips, he tilted the bottom of the pot higher and higher, till it pointed to the sky, and he had to shut his eyes to keep the dazzle of the sunshine out of them. Then he took the pot away, for there was nothing in it, and heaved a full deep sigh, looking at the others with moist eyes and shaking his head solemnly.

"Ho, landlord!" cried the Peddler, "bring this good fellow another pot of ale, for truly it is a credit to us all to have one among us who can empty a canakin so lustily."

So they talked among themselves merrily, until after a while quoth Little John, "Who rideth those two nags yonder?"

"Two holy men like thee, brother," quoth the Beggar. "They are now having a goodly feast within, for I smelled the steam of a boiled pullet just now. The landlady sayeth they come from Fountain Abbey, in Yorkshire, and go to Lincoln on matters of business."

"They are a merry couple," said the Tinker, "for one is as lean as an old wife's spindle, and the other as fat as a suet pudding."

"Talking of fatness," said the Peddler, "thou thyself lookest none too ill-fed, holy friar."

"Nay, truly," said Little John, "thou seest in me what the holy Saint Dunstan can do for them that serve him upon a handful of parched peas and a trickle of cold water."



Great tavern banter here, but the real point is the setup; I wot Little John knows how to serve rich monks a merry jest!

A "pullet" is a young hen, less than a year old. The lamb of chicken.

quote:

At this a great shout of laughter went up. "Truly, it is a wondrous thing," quoth the Beggar, "I would have made my vow, to see the masterly manner in which thou didst tuck away yon pot of ale, that thou hadst not tasted clear water for a brace of months. Has not this same holy Saint Dunstan taught thee a goodly song or two?"

"Why, as for that," quoth Little John, grinning, "mayhap he hath lent me aid to learn a ditty or so."

"Then, prythee, let us hear how he hath taught thee," quoth the Tinker.

At this Little John cleared his throat and, after a word or two about a certain hoarseness that troubled him, sang thus:

quote:

"Ah, pretty, pretty maid, whither dost thou go?
I prythee, prythee, wait for thy lover also,
And we'll gather the rose
As it sweetly blows,
For the merry, merry winds are blo-o-o-wing."

Now it seemed as though Little John's songs were never to get sung, for he had got no farther than this when the door of the inn opened and out came the two brothers of Fountain Abbey, the landlord following them, and, as the saying is, washing his hands with humble soap. But when the brothers of Fountain Abbey saw who it was that sang, and how he was clad in the robes of a Gray Friar, they stopped suddenly, the fat little Brother drawing his heavy eyebrows together in a mighty frown, and the thin Brother twisting up his face as though he had sour beer in his mouth. Then, as Little John gathered his breath for a new verse, "How, now," roared forth the fat Brother, his voice coming from him like loud thunder from a little cloud, "thou naughty fellow, is this a fit place for one in thy garb to tipple and sing profane songs?"

"Nay," quoth Little John, "sin' I cannot tipple and sing, like Your Worship's reverence, in such a goodly place as Fountain Abbey, I must e'en tipple and sing where I can."

"Now, out upon thee," cried the tall lean Brother in a harsh voice, "now, out upon thee, that thou shouldst so disgrace thy cloth by this talk and bearing."

"Marry, come up!" quoth Little John. "Disgrace, sayest thou? Methinks it is more disgrace for one of our garb to wring hard-earned farthings out of the gripe of poor lean peasants. It is not so, brother?"

At this the Tinker and the Peddler and the Beggar nudged one another, and all grinned, and the friars scowled blackly at Little John; but they could think of nothing further to say, so they turned to their horses. Then Little John arose of a sudden from the bench where he sat, and ran to where the brothers of Fountain Abbey were mounting. Quoth he, "Let me hold your horses' bridles for you. Truly, your words have smitten my sinful heart, so that I will abide no longer in this den of evil, but will go forward with you. No vile temptation, I wot, will fall upon me in such holy company."

"Nay, fellow," said the lean Brother harshly, for he saw that Little John made sport of them, "we want none of thy company, so get thee gone."

"Alas," quoth Little John, "I am truly sorry that ye like me not nor my company, but as for leaving you, it may not be, for my heart is so moved, that, willy-nilly, I must go with you for the sake of your holy company."

It has been a recurring pattern that Little John's songs always get interrupted; I never noticed that till this read-through.

Not only are these monks rich landlords, they lack curtesye; they interrupt his song, they tell him to shut up, and try to guilt-trip him.

quote:

Now, at this talk all the good fellows on the bench grinned till their teeth glistened, and even the landlord could not forbear to smile. As for the friars, they looked at one another with a puzzled look, and knew not what to do in the matter. They were so proud that it made them feel sick with shame to think of riding along the highroad with a strolling friar, in robes all too short for him, running beside them, but yet they could not make Little John stay against his will, for they knew he could crack the bones of both of them in a twinkling were he so minded. Then up spake the fat Brother more mildly than he had done before. "Nay, good brother," said he, "we will ride fast, and thou wilt tire to death at the pace."

"Truly, I am grateful to thee for the thought of me," quoth Little John, "but have no fear, brother; my limbs are stout, and I could run like a hare from here to Gainsborough."

At these words a sound of laughing came from the bench, whereat the lean Brother's wrath boiled over, like water into the fire, with great fuss and noise. "Now, out upon thee, thou naughty fellow!" he cried. "Art thou not ashamed to bring disgrace so upon our cloth? Bide thee here, thou sot, with these porkers. Thou art no fit company for us."

"La, ye there now!" quoth Little John. "Thou hearest, landlord; thou art not fit company for these holy men; go back to thine alehouse. Nay, if these most holy brothers of mine do but give me the word, I'll beat thy head with this stout staff till it is as soft as whipped eggs."

At these words a great shout of laughter went up from those on the bench, and the landlord's face grew red as a cherry from smothering his laugh in his stomach; but he kept his merriment down, for he wished not to bring the ill-will of the brothers of Fountain Abbey upon him by unseemly mirth. So the two brethren, as they could do nought else, having mounted their nags, turned their noses toward Lincoln and rode away.

"I cannot stay longer, sweet friends," quoth Little John, as he pushed in betwixt the two cobs, "therefore I wish you good den. Off we go, we three." So saying, he swung his stout staff over his shoulder and trudged off, measuring his pace with that of the two nags.

A seven foot tall dude goes wherever a seven foot tall dude wants to go.

quote:

The two brothers glowered at Little John when he so pushed himself betwixt them, then they drew as far away from him as they could, so that the yeoman walked in the middle of the road, while they rode on the footpath on either side of the way. As they so went away, the Tinker, the Peddler, and the Beggar ran skipping out into the middle of the highway, each with a pot in his hand, and looked after them laughing.

While they were in sight of those at the inn, the brothers walked their horses soberly, not caring to make ill matters worse by seeming to run away from Little John, for they could not but think how it would sound in folks' ears when they heard how the brethren of Fountain Abbey scampered away from a strolling friar, like the Ugly One, when the blessed Saint Dunstan loosed his nose from the red-hot tongs where he had held it fast; but when they had crossed the crest of the hill and the inn was lost to sight, quoth the fat Brother to the thin Brother, "Brother Ambrose, had we not better mend our pace?"

"Why truly, gossip," spoke up Little John, "methinks it would be well to boil our pot a little faster, for the day is passing on. So it will not jolt thy fat too much, onward, say I."

At this the two friars said nothing, but they glared again on Little John with baleful looks; then, without another word, they clucked to their horses, and both broke into a canter. So they galloped for a mile and more, and Little John ran betwixt them as lightly as a stag and never turned a hair with the running. At last the fat Brother drew his horse's rein with a groan, for he could stand the shaking no longer. "Alas," said Little John, with not so much as a catch in his breath, "I did sadly fear that the roughness of this pace would shake thy poor old fat paunch."

To this the fat Friar said never a word, but he stared straight before him, and he gnawed his nether lip. And now they traveled forward more quietly, Little John in the middle of the road whistling merrily to himself, and the two friars in the footpath on either side saying never a word.

Then presently they met three merry minstrels, all clad in red, who stared amain to see a Gray Friar with such short robes walking in the middle of the road, and two brothers with heads bowed with shame, riding upon richly caparisoned cobs on the footpaths. When they had come near to the minstrels, Little John waved his staff like an usher clearing the way. "Make way!" he cried in a loud voice. "Make way! make way! For here we go, we three!" Then how the minstrels stared, and how they laughed! But the fat Friar shook as with an ague, and the lean Friar bowed his head over his horse's neck.

Then next they met two noble knights in rich array, with hawk on wrist, and likewise two fair ladies clad in silks and velvets, all a-riding on noble steeds. These all made room, staring, as Little John and the two friars came along the road. To them Little John bowed humbly. "Give you greetings, lords and ladies," said he. "But here we go, we three."

Then all laughed, and one of the fair ladies cried out, "What three meanest thou, merry friend?"

Little John looked over his shoulder, for they had now passed each other, and he called back, "Big Jack, lean Jack and fat Jack-pudding."

At this the fat Friar gave a groan and seemed as if he were like to fall from his saddle for shame; the other brother said nothing, but he looked before him with a grim and stony look.

Just ahead of them the road took a sudden turn around a high hedge, and some twoscore paces beyond the bend another road crossed the one they were riding upon. When they had come to the crossroad and were well away from those they had left, the lean Friar drew rein suddenly. "Look ye, fellow," quoth he in a voice quivering with rage, "we have had enough of thy vile company, and care no longer to be made sport of. Go thy way, and let us go ours in peace."

Everything up till now in this -- all the banter, all the incidents -- has been Pyle's addition as far as I can tell; the core element of the story is the next bit.

quote:

Just ahead of them the road took a sudden turn around a high hedge, and some twoscore paces beyond the bend another road crossed the one they were riding upon. When they had come to the crossroad and were well away from those they had left, the lean Friar drew rein suddenly. "Look ye, fellow," quoth he in a voice quivering with rage, "we have had enough of thy vile company, and care no longer to be made sport of. Go thy way, and let us go ours in peace."

"La there, now!" quoth Little John. "Methought we were such a merry company, and here thou dost blaze up like fat in the pan. But truly, I ha' had enow of you today, though I can ill spare your company. I know ye will miss me, but gin ye want me again, whisper to Goodman Wind, and he will bring news thereof to me. But ye see I am a poor man and ye are rich. I pray you give me a penny or two to buy me bread and cheese at the next inn."

"We have no money, fellow," said the lean Friar harshly. "Come, Brother Thomas, let us forward."

But Little John caught the horses by the bridle reins, one in either hand. "Ha' ye in truth no money about you whatsoever?" said he. "Now, I pray you, brothers, for charity's sake, give me somewhat to buy a crust of bread, e'en though it be only a penny."

"I tell thee, fellow, we have no money," thundered the fat little Friar with the great voice.

"Ha' ye, in holy truth, no money?" asked Little John.

"Not a farthing," said the lean Friar sourly.

"Not a groat," said the fat Friar loudly.

"Nay," quoth Little John, "this must not be. Far be it from me to see such holy men as ye are depart from me with no money. Get both of you down straightway from off your horses, and we will kneel here in the middle of the crossroads and pray the blessed Saint Dunstan to send us some money to carry us on our journey."

"What sayest thou, thou limb of evil!" cried the lean Friar, fairly gnashing his teeth with rage. "Doss thou bid me, the high cellarer of Fountain Abbey, to get down from my horse and kneel in the dirty road to pray to some beggarly Saxon saint?"

"Now," quoth Little John, "I ha' a great part of a mind to crack thy head for thee for speaking thus of the good Saint Dunstan! But get down straightway, for my patience will not last much longer, and I may forget that ye are both in holy orders." So saying, he twirled his stout staff till it whistled again.

At this speech both friars grew as pale as dough. Down slipped the fat Brother from off his horse on one side, and down slipped the lean Brother on the other.

"Now, brothers, down on your knees and pray," said Little John; thereupon, putting his heavy hands upon the shoulder of each, he forced them to their knees, he kneeling also. Then Little John began to beseech Saint Dunstan for money, which he did in a great loud voice. After he had so besought the Saint for a time, he bade the friars feel in their pouches and see if the Saint had sent them anything; so each put his hand slowly in the pouch that hung beside him, but brought nothing thence.

"Ha!" quoth Little John, "have your prayers so little virtue? Then let us at it again." Then straightway he began calling on Saint Dunstan again, somewhat in this wise: "O gracious Saint Dunstan! Send some money straightway to these poor folk, lest the fat one waste away and grow as lean as the lean one, and the lean one waste away to nothing at all, ere they get to Lincoln Town; but send them only ten shillings apiece, lest they grow puffed up with pride, Any more than that that thou sendest, send to me.

"Now," quoth he, rising, "let us see what each man hath." Then he thrust his hand into his pouch and drew thence four golden angels. "What have ye, brothers?" said he.

Then once again each friar slowly thrust his hand into his pouch, and once again brought it out with nothing in it.

"Have ye nothing?" quoth Little John. "Nay, I warrant there is somewhat that hath crept into the seams of your pouches, and so ye ha' missed it. Let me look."

So he went first to the lean Friar, and, thrusting his hand into the pouch, he drew forth a leathern bag and counted therefrom one hundred and ten pounds of golden money. "I thought," quoth Little John, "that thou hadst missed, in some odd corner of thy pouch, the money that the blessed Saint had sent thee. And now let me see whether thou hast not some, also, brother." Thereupon he thrust his hand into the pouch of the fat Friar and drew thence a bag like the other and counted out from it threescore and ten pounds. "Look ye now," quoth he, "I knew the good Saint had sent thee some pittance that thou, also, hadst missed."

Then, giving them one pound between them, he slipped the rest of the money into his own pouch, saying, "Ye pledged me your holy word that ye had no money. Being holy men, I trust that ye would not belie your word so pledged, therefore I know the good Saint Dunstan hath sent this in answer to my prayers. But as I only prayed for ten shillings to be sent to each of you, all over and above that belongeth by rights to me, and so I take it. I give you good den, brothers, and may ye have a pleasant journey henceforth." So saying, he turned and left them, striding away. The friars looked at one another with a woeful look, and slowly and sadly they mounted their horses again and rode away with never a word.

But Little John turned his footsteps back again to Sherwood Forest, and merrily he whistled as he strode along.

For comparison, here's the grain of story from which (I believe) Pyle brewed that great draught of a tale:



A general and true history of the lives and actions of the most famous highwaymen, pg 71

(In most of the early ballads Robin is very devoted to the Virgin Mary; Pyle instead goes with the Saxon Saints / Norman Saints thing).



quote:


And now we will see what befell Robin Hood in his venture as beggar.

Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 17:10 on Aug 31, 2020

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound

Hieronymous Alloy posted:


For comparison, here's the grain of story from which (I believe) Pyle brewed that great draught of a tale:



A general and true history of the lives and actions of the most famous highwaymen, pg 71

(In most of the early ballads Robin is very devoted to the Virgin Mary; Pyle instead goes with the Saxon Saints / Norman Saints thing).


I need to correct this a bit: this story is also found as a Child Ballad and in Ritson, in the form for "Robin Hood's Golden Prize", which I hadn't noticed till now due to the vague title. Still, the basic story of the ballad is the same as that above -- it just starts with Robin dressed as a friar meeting two rich monks on the road, without any of Pyle's preamble.

However, I'm still fairly sure Pyle drew on "A general and true history of the lives and actions of the most famous highwaymen" for a different story, which I'll cover in the next section, and which as far as I can verify has no other ballad source at all.

Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 02:37 on Sep 1, 2020

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound

Hieronymous Alloy posted:

The Adventure with Midge the Miller's Son


As far as I can tell this bit with the flour is Pyle's invention -- it doesn't seem to be in a ballad, but could have been in a play or other source.


One more correction -- this bit with the flour in the Midge story is actually from "Robin Hood and the Beggar (II)", Child Ballad 134, which I'll also cover in the next section.

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


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Morbid Hound
Robin Hood Turns Beggar (Part 1 of 3)

I'll be dividing this chapter into three sections because there's a lot of annotation -- this chapter draws on a lot of different, interesting sources.

The first two parts draw somewhat on "Robin Hood and the Beggar" (which exists in two versions, Child Ballads 133 and 134, one of which only survives in fragments) and "Little John a-Begging" (Child Ballad 142), also found in Ritson as "Little John and the Four Beggars." The last section draws exclusively (as far as I can tell or verify) on A general and true history of the lives and actions of the most famous highwaymen, and I'll cover that separately when I get to it.


The biggest change Pyle makes in these first two sections is assigning both adventures to Robin and giving them a connecting frame narrative -- Robin wants to 1) dress up like a beggar and then 2) see what life as a beggar is like.

quote:

AFTER JOLLY ROBIN had left Little John at the forking of the roads, he walked merrily onward in the mellow sunshine that shone about him. Ever and anon he would skip and leap or sing a snatch of song, for pure joyousness of the day; for, because of the sweetness of the springtide, his heart was as lusty within him as that of a colt newly turned out to grass. Sometimes he would walk a long distance, gazing aloft at the great white swelling clouds that moved slowly across the deep blue sky; anon he would stop and drink in the fullness of life of all things, for the hedgerows were budding tenderly and the grass of the meadows was waxing long and green; again he would stand still and listen to the pretty song of the little birds in the thickets or hearken to the clear crow of the cock daring the sky to rain, whereat he would laugh, for it took but little to tickle Robin's heart into merriment.

Robin is doing zoomies.

quote:


So he trudged manfully along, ever willing to stop for this reason or for that, and ever ready to chat with such merry lasses as he met now and then. So the morning slipped along, but yet he met no beggar with whom he could change clothes. Quoth he, "If I do not change my luck in haste, I am like to have an empty day of it, for it is well nigh half gone already, and, although I have had a merry walk through the countryside, I know nought of a beggar's life."

Then, after a while, he began to grow hungry, whereupon his mind turned from thoughts of springtime and flowers and birds and dwelled upon boiled capons, Malmsey, white bread, and the like, with great tenderness. Quoth he to himself, "I would I had Willie Wynkin's wishing coat; I know right well what I should wish for, and this it should be." Here he marked upon the fingers of his left hand with the forefinger of his right hand those things which he wished for. "Firstly, I would have a sweet brown pie of tender larks; mark ye, not dry cooked, but with a good sop of gravy to moisten it withal. Next, I would have a pretty pullet, fairly boiled, with tender pigeons' eggs, cunningly sliced, garnishing the platter around. With these I would have a long, slim loaf of wheaten bread that hath been baked upon the hearth; it should be warm from the fire, with glossy brown crust, the color of the hair of mine own Maid Marian, and this same crust should be as crisp and brittle as the thin white ice that lies across the furrows in the early winter's morning. These will do for the more solid things; but with these I must have three potties, fat and round, one full of Malmsey, one of Canary, and one brimming full of mine own dear lusty sack." Thus spoke Robin to himself, his mouth growing moist at the corners with the thoughts of the good things he had raised in his own mind.


"If wishes were horses, beggars would ride" -- Robin's already getting started on his new career!

Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable says that "Willie Wynkin's Wishing Coat" was "an Irish locution," but then cites to and quotes this exact passage, so it may be a Pyle coinage.

Capons we've been over before; those are "Castrated male chickens, fattened for eating."

quote:

quote:

For those of you who are not disgusted enough by a songbird appearing in this column, that is a lark. Yes, larks are probably the most widely-eaten songbird in existence. Nearly every culture in Europe has some record of eating larks, from the Romans to the British. Lark tongues were always seen as particularly valuable (perhaps because the birds sing well). It's not like the rest of the bird was wasted, though; oh, far from it.

The traditional way to eat a lark is to eat it whole - bones and all. I would advise de-feathering and cooking it first. If this sounds familiar, look up "ortolan." Just think of the larks as mini-chickens once you're past the "oh my gods, I'm eating a cute little birdie!" stage and bite after they've been out of the oven for a bit. Or you could always put them in pies.

http://myths-made-real.blogspot.com/2012/06/they-actually-eat-that-larks.html


("Lark Pie a la Melton Mowbray"; Melton Mowbray is a town twenty miles southeast of Nottingham)

This passage tells us that Robin really does love Maid Marian: he compares her to food.

There's a blog entry on "Howard Pyle's Palate" that specifically references this passage, here: https://howardpyle.blogspot.com/2011/07/howard-pyles-palate.html

quote:


So, talking to himself, he came to where the dusty road turned sharply around the hedge, all tender with the green of the coming leaf, and there he saw before him a stout fellow sitting upon a stile, swinging his legs in idleness. All about this lusty rogue dangled divers pouches and bags of different sizes and kinds, a dozen or more, with great, wide, gaping mouths, like a brood of hungry daws. His coat was gathered in at his waist, and was patched with as many colors as there are stripes upon a Maypole in the springtide. On his head he wore a great tall leathern cap, and across his knees rested a stout quarterstaff of blackthorn, full as long and heavy as Robin's. As jolly a beggar was he as ever trod the lanes and byways of Nottinghamshire, for his eyes were as gray as slate, and snapped and twinkled and danced with merriment, and his black hair curled close all over his head in little rings of kinkiness.


This description of the beggar is in the original ballad; most notes or explications on his dress just point out that this is a very successful beggar; he's got good clothes, good gear, and lots of bags and pockets to carry his stuffs.

quote:


"Halloa, good fellow," quoth Robin, when he had come nigh to the other, "what art thou doing here this merry day, when the flowers are peeping and the buds are swelling?"

Then the other winked one eye and straightway trolled forth in a merry voice:

"I sit upon the stile,
And I sing a little while
As I wait for my own true dear, O,
For the sun is shining bright,
And the leaves are dancing light,
And the little fowl sings she is near, O.
"And so it is with me, bully boy, saving that my doxy cometh not."

"Now that is a right sweet song," quoth Robin, "and, were I in the right mind to listen to thee, I could bear well to hear more; but I have two things of seriousness to ask of thee; so listen, I prythee."

At this the jolly Beggar cocked his head on one side, like a rogue of a magpie. Quoth he, "I am an ill jug to pour heavy things into, good friend, and, if I mistake not, thou hast few serious words to spare at any time."

This guy sized Robin up pretty quick. The original ballad isn't so amicable, but Pyle's borrowing a bit of structure from Little John and the Cook here. First, important things like food and songs, then stout battlin'.


quote:

"Nay," quoth jolly Robin, "what I would say first is the most serious of all thoughts to me, to wit, 'Where shall I get somewhat to eat and drink?'"

"Sayst thou so?" quoth the Beggar. "Marry, I make no such serious thoughts upon the matter. I eat when I can get it, and munch my crust when I can get no crumb; likewise, when there is no ale to be had I wash the dust from out my throat with a trickle of cold water. I was sitting here, as thou camest upon me, bethinking myself whether I should break my fast or no. I do love to let my hunger grow mightily keen ere I eat, for then a dry crust is as good to me as a venison pasty with suet and raisins is to stout King Harry. I have a sharp hunger upon me now, but methinks in a short while it will ripen to a right mellow appetite."

"Now, in good sooth," quoth merry Robin, laughing, "thou hast a quaint tongue betwixt thy teeth. But hast thou truly nought but a dry crust about thee? Methinks thy bags and pouches are fat and lusty for such thin fare."

"Why, mayhap there is some other cold fare therein," said the Beggar slyly.

"And hast thou nought to drink but cold water?" said Robin.

"Never so much as a drop," quoth the Beggar. "Over beyond yon clump of trees is as sweet a little inn as ever thou hast lifted eyelid upon; but I go not thither, for they have a nasty way with me. Once, when the good Prior of Emmet was dining there, the landlady set a dear little tart of stewed crabs and barley sugar upon the window sill to cool, and, seeing it there, and fearing it might be lost, I took it with me till that I could find the owner thereof. Ever since then they have acted very ill toward me; yet truth bids me say that they have the best ale there that ever rolled over my tongue."

At this Robin laughed aloud. "Marry," quoth he, "they did ill toward thee for thy kindness. But tell me truly, what hast thou in thy pouches?"

"Why," quoth the Beggar, peeping into the mouths of his bags, "I find here a goodly piece of pigeon pie, wrapped in a cabbage leaf to hold the gravy. Here I behold a dainty streaked piece of brawn, and here a fair lump of white bread. Here I find four oaten cakes and a cold knuckle of ham. Ha! In sooth, 'tis strange; but here I behold six eggs that must have come by accident from some poultry yard hereabouts. They are raw, but roasted upon the coals and spread with a piece of butter that I see—"

"Peace, good friend!" cried Robin, holding up his hand. "Thou makest my poor stomach quake with joy for what thou tellest me so sweetly. If thou wilt give me to eat, I will straightway hie me to that little inn thou didst tell of but now, and will bring a skin of ale for thy drinking and mine."

"Friend, thou hast said enough," said the Beggar, getting down from the stile. "I will feast thee with the best that I have and bless Saint Cedric for thy company. But, sweet chuck, I prythee bring three quarts of ale at least, one for thy drinking and two for mine, for my thirst is such that methinks I can drink ale as the sands of the River Dee drink salt water."


The beggar even has pigeon pie! That's pretty similar to the lark pie Robin was daydreaming about -- the recipes I was finding for lark pie even often say you can substitute pigeon. And we know Robin loves good ale, even if it isn't the Malmsey he was dreaming about.

quote:


So Robin straightway left the Beggar, who, upon his part, went to a budding lime bush back of the hedge, and there spread his feast upon the grass and roasted his eggs upon a little fagot fire, with a deftness gained by long labor in that line. After a while back came Robin bearing a goodly skin of ale upon his shoulder, which he laid upon the grass. Then, looking upon the feast spread upon the ground—and a fair sight it was to look upon—he slowly rubbed his hand over his stomach, for to his hungry eyes it seemed the fairest sight that he had beheld in all his life.

"Friend," said the Beggar, "let me feel the weight of that skin.

"Yea, truly," quoth Robin, "help thyself, sweet chuck, and meantime let me see whether thy pigeon pie is fresh or no."

So the one seized upon the ale and the other upon the pigeon pie, and nothing was heard for a while but the munching of food and the gurgle of ale as it left the skin.

At last, after a long time had passed thus, Robin pushed the food from him and heaved a great sigh of deep content, for he felt as though he had been made all over anew.

"And now, good friend," quoth he, leaning upon one elbow, "I would have at thee about that other matter of seriousness of which I spoke not long since."

"How!" said the Beggar reproachfully, "thou wouldst surely not talk of things appertaining to serious affairs upon such ale as this!"

"Nay," quoth Robin, laughing. "I would not check thy thirst, sweet friend; drink while I talk to thee. Thus it is: I would have thee know that I have taken a liking to thy craft and would fain have a taste of a beggar's life mine own self."

Said the Beggar, "I marvel not that thou hast taken a liking to my manner of life, good fellow, but 'to like' and 'to do' are two matters of different sorts. I tell thee, friend, one must serve a long apprenticeship ere one can learn to be even so much as a clapper- dudgeon, much less a crank or an Abraham-man.3 I tell thee, lad, thou art too old to enter upon that which it may take thee years to catch the hang of."


3
Classes of traveling mendicants that infested England as late as the
middle of the seventeenth century. VIDE Dakkar's ENGLISH VILLAINIES, etc.



This footnote took me forever to track down; it's actually a reference to a pamphlet by the playwright Thomas Decker, chiefly remembered today for getting into a literary spat with Ben Jonson..

quote:

quote:

Lantern and Candlelight belongs to the genre variously known as the rogue book, beggar book, or cony-catching pamphlet, which developed in England in the mid-16th century and was popular with a wide spectrum of audiences until the 18th century. The genre’s counterparts today are fiction and films showcasing underworld characters and their secret language, codes, and practices. Lantern and Candlelight was among the most popular rogue books of its time, going through more editions than any of its analogues.


The closest thing I can find to a reprint of this pamphlet is here (apparently Dekker published many different versions of each of his pamphlets), published 1616.

If you've ever played a D&D rogue, this -- or more precisely, this kind of book generally -- is where "Thieves' Cant" comes from. The weird words Pyle throws in here are actual period examples from Dekker's text.

Dekker gives us the following definitions for "clapperdodgeon" and "abraham-man" (edited slightly by me for clarity):

quote:


A Clapperdogeon is in English a Begger borne: some call him a Pallyard: of which sorts there are two: first, Naturall: secondly, Artificiall. . . . .

Vnder this Banner of the patched Clapperdogeon, doe I leuie all Pallyards, as well those of the great Cleyme, (or Soares,) as others, whom I tearme Artificiall Clapperdogeons, albeit they are not Beggers A­borne.

Of their Mawnd.
THis Pallyard (or Artifieiall Clapperdogeon, who carryeth about him the great Cleyme) to stirre com-passion vp in peoples hearts, thus acteth his part: He slides to the earth by his staffe, and lying pittiously on the ground, makes a fearefull horrid strange noyse, through an hoarse throate vttering these lamentable tunes: Ah the vrship of God looke out with your merci­full eyne, one pittifull looke vpon sore, lame, grieued and impudent (for impotent) people, sore troubled with the grieuous disease, and haue no rest day nor night by the Canker and Worme, that continually eateth the flesh from the bone: for the Vrship of God bestow one Crosse of your small siluer; to buy him salue and oyntment, to case the poore wretched body; that neuer taketh rest: and [...] to reward you for it in heauen. These Pallyards walke two or three together, and as one giues ouer this note, the second catcheth it at the rebound, vsing the selfe-same howling and grunting, which ended, they say the Lords Prayer, and in many places the Aue, neuer ceasing till something be giuen them.

So a "clapper-dudgeon" is someone who fakes sores by applying salt and plants to their skin, dress in rags, and beg for money with laments and loud prayers, while also "fishing" for chickens with line and hooks, baited with bread.

As to "abram-men,"

quote:


THe Abram Cove, is a lustie strong Roague, who walketh with a Slade about his Quarrous (a sheete about his body) . . some of these Abrams haue the Letters E. and R. upon their armes: some haue Crosses, and some other marke, all of them carrying a blew colour: some weare an iron ring, &c. which markes are printed vpon their flesh . . .
to such a figure or print as they best fancy, they rub that place with burnt paper, pisse and Gunpowder, which being hard rubd in, and suffered to dry, stickes in the flesh a long time after . . .If you examine them how these Letters or Figures are printed vpon their armes, they will tell you it is the Marke of Bedlam, but the truth is, they are made as I haue reported. . . And to colour their villanie the better, euery one of these Abrams hath a seuerall gesture in playing his part: some make an horrid noyse, hollowly sounding: some whoope, some hollow, some shew onely a kinde of wilde distracted vgly looke. . . THe first beginnes "Good Vrship. Maister, or good Vrships Rulers of this place, bestow your reward on a poore man that hath lyen in Bedlam without Bishops-gate three yeeres, foure moneths, and nine dayes, And bestow one piece of your small siluer towards his fees, which he is indebted there, the summe of three pounds, thirteene shillings, seauen pence, halfe-penny, (or to such effect,) and hath not wherewith to pay the same, but by the good help of Vrshipfull and well disposed people, and God to reward them for it"

So an "abraham-man" or "abram-man" is a beggar who fakes madness and medical bills.


quote:


"Mayhap that may be so," quoth Robin, "for I bring to mind that Gaffer Swanthold sayeth Jack Shoemaker maketh ill bread; Tom Baker maketh ill shoon. Nevertheless, I have a mind to taste a beggar's life, and need but the clothing to be as good as any."

"I tell thee, fellow," said the Beggar, "if thou wert clad as sweetly as good Saint Wynten, the patron of our craft, thou wouldst never make a beggar. Marry, the first jolly traveler that thou wouldst meet would beat thee to a pudding for thrusting thy nose into a craft that belongeth not to thee."

He's warning Robin: the beggars have a guild, and just the clothes won't let Robin fake being a part of it.

quote:


"Nevertheless," quoth Robin, "I would have a try at it; and methinks I shall change clothes with thee, for thy garb seemeth to be pretty, not to say gay. So not only will I change clothes, but I will give thee two golden angels to boot. I have brought my stout staff with me, thinking that I might have to rap some one of the brethren of thy cloth over the head by way of argument in this matter, but I love thee so much for the feast thou hast given me that I would not lift even my little finger against thee, so thou needst not have a crumb of fear."

To this the Beggar listened with his knuckles resting against his hips, and when Robin had ended he cocked his head on one side and thrust his tongue into his cheek.

"Marry, come up," quoth he at last. "Lift thy finger against me, forsooth! Art thou out of thy wits, man? My name is Riccon Hazel, and I come from Holywell, in Flintshire, over by the River Dee. I tell thee, knave, I have cracked the head of many a better man than thou art, and even now I would scald thy crown for thee but for the ale thou hast given me. Now thou shalt not have so much as one tag-rag of my coat, even could it save thee from hanging."

"Now, fellow," said Robin, "it would ill suit me to spoil thy pretty head for thee, but I tell thee plainly, that but for this feast I would do that to thee would stop thy traveling the country for many a day to come. Keep thy lips shut, lad, or thy luck will tumble out of thy mouth with thy speech!"

"Now out, and alas for thee, man, for thou hast bred thyself ill this day!" cried the Beggar, rising and taking up his staff. "Take up thy club and defend thyself, fellow, for I will not only beat thee but I will take from thee thy money and leave thee not so much as a clipped groat to buy thyself a lump of goose grease to rub thy cracked crown withal. So defend thyself, I say."

Then up leaped merry Robin and snatched up his staff also. "Take my money, if thou canst," quoth he. "I promise freely to give thee every farthing if thou dost touch me." And he twirled his staff in his fingers till it whistled again.

Then the Beggar swung his staff also, and struck a mighty blow at Robin, which the yeoman turned. Three blows the Beggar struck, yet never one touched so much as a hair of Robin's head. Then stout Robin saw his chance, and, ere you could count three, Riccon's staff was over the hedge, and Riccon himself lay upon the green grass with no more motion than you could find in an empty pudding bag.

"How now!" quoth merry Robin, laughing. "Wilt thou have my hide or my money, sweet chuck?" But to this the other answered never a word. Then Robin, seeing his plight, and that he was stunned with the blow, ran, still laughing, and brought the skin of ale and poured some of it on the Beggar's head and some down his throat, so that presently he opened his eyes and looked around as though wondering why he lay upon his back.

Then Robin, seeing that he had somewhat gathered the wits that had just been rapped out of his head, said, "Now, good fellow, wilt thou change clothes with me, or shall I have to tap thee again? Here are two golden angels if thou wilt give me freely all thy rags and bags and thy cap and things. If thou givest them not freely, I much fear me I shall have to— " and he looked up and down his staff.

Then Riccon sat up and rubbed the bump on his crown. "Now, out upon it!" quoth he. "I did think to drub thee sweetly, fellow. I know not how it is, but I seem, as it were, to have bought more beer than I can drink. If I must give up my clothes, I must, but first promise me, by thy word as a true yeoman, that thou wilt take nought from me but my clothes."

"I promise on the word of a true yeoman," quoth Robin, thinking that the fellow had a few pennies that he would save.

Thereupon the Beggar drew a little knife that hung at his side and, ripping up the lining of his coat, drew thence ten bright golden pounds, which he laid upon the ground beside him with a cunning wink at Robin. "Now thou mayst have my clothes and welcome," said he, "and thou mightest have had them in exchange for thine without the cost of a single farthing, far less two golden angels."

"Marry," quoth Robin, laughing, "thou art a sly fellow, and I tell thee truly, had I known thou hadst so much money by thee maybe thou mightst not have carried it away, for I warrant thou didst not come honestly by it."

So Robin's gotten his beggar's clothing. In the original ballad, Robin *loses* this fight, and loses it rather badly -- the beggar breaks his bow, breaks his sword, and then beats Robin unconscious. In some versions, Robin switches clothes (the Beggar wanting Robin's good lincoln green), Robin is happy with the change because the beggar's clothes are high-quality and have lots of pockets, and then the switch lets Robin successfully save some of his Merry Men who are about to be hung by the Sheriff. In other versions of the tale, after Robin is beaten by the beggar, Robin blows his horn and three Merry Men join him, and the Beggar then plays the meal-bag trick we saw Midge pull earlier.

Pyle reverses things here, and for a change Robin wins his fight, then switches clothes because *he* wants to pretend to be a beggar for a bit. It's kindof refreshing to see Robin actually win one of these, but I think it also shows an interesting shift in the legend.

In Elizabethan England, being a wandering beggar was illegal, and could get you beaten and branded:

quote:

quote:

The 1547 [Poor Act] commanded that “all able-bodied persons not working be declared vagabonds, that they be seized by former masters and branded with a V on their breast, and then enslaved for two years".
.

https://core.ac.uk/download/pdf/147122823.pdf

quote:

During the Tudor period, cultural perceptions began to shift away from the medieval theological belief that poverty was a virtue.[5] The philosophical influence of Renaissance humanism[6] and the emergence of a Protestant work ethic[7] and rogue literature[8] contributed to views encouraging industriousness and the stewardship of wealth and vilifying idleness, begging, and vagrancy. As poverty rates and the costs of poor relief rose, communities attempted to define and limit who qualified for aid, restricting support by locality and moral conduct.[9]

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poor_Act_1552

quote:

During the Tudor period it is estimated that up to a third of the population lived in poverty.[3] The population doubled in size between the reigns of Henry VIII and Elizabeth I.[2] The earliest Tudor Poor Laws were very much focused on punishing beggars and vagabonds. For example, the Vagabonds and Beggars Act of 1494 passed by Henry VII decreed that idle persons should be placed in the stocks and then returned to the hundred where he last dwelled or was born.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tudor_Poor_Laws

So in the 1500's we even see Martin Luther writing the introduction to a "rogue book" akin to Dekker's:

quote:


THIS little book about the knaveries of beggars was first printed by one who called himself Expertus in Truffis, that is, a fellow right expert in roguery,—which the little work very well proves, even though he had not given himself such a name.

But I have thought it a good thing that such a book should not only be printed, but that it should become known everywhere, in order that men may see and understand how mightily the devil rules in this world; and I have also thought how such a book may help mankind to be wise, and on the look out for him, viz. the devil. Truly, such Beggars’ Cant has come from the Jews, for many Hebrew words occur in the Vocabulary, as any one who understands that language may perceive.

But the right understanding and true meaning of the book is, after all, this, viz. that princes, lords, counsellors of state, and everybody should be prudent, and cautious in dealing with beggars, and learn that, whereas people will not give and help honest paupers and needy neighbours, as ordained by God, they give, by the persuasion of the devil, and contrary to God’s judgment, ten times as much to Vagabonds and desperate rogues,—in like manner as we have hitherto done to monasteries, cloisters, churches, chapels, and mendicant friars, forsaking all the time the truly poor.

For this reason every town and village should know their own paupers, as written down in the Register, and assist them. But as to outlandish and strange beggars they ought not to be borne with, unless they have proper letters and certificates; for all the great rogueries mentioned in this book are done by these. If each town would only keep an eye upon their paupers, such knaveries would soon be at an end. I have myself of late years been cheated and befooled by suchPg 5 tramps and liars more than I wish to confess. Therefore, whosoever hears these words let him be warned, and do good to his neighbour in all Christian charity, according to the teaching of the commandment.


https://www.gutenberg.org/files/46287/46287-h/46287-h.htm

So that's the societal context for this ballad and this tale.

This is a late 17th century ballad, so it's coming along post-Poor Act, post "rogue books," but still set before it. Robin Hood, champion of the downtrodden poor, picks a fight with a rich beggar, and gets a beating for his pains. By the time we get to Pyle, though, late 1800's, American, Puritan work ethic . . . yeah, Pyle's not going to let a beggar beat Stout Robin in a fight. What sort of example would that set for the children? Robin helps the real poor, and this beggar lacks the virtue of the True Poor. He's a faker, a rogue. So Robin has kinship with him as with all stout rogues, but in a fight, Pyle's honest rogue Robin has to defeat the cheat.

quote:


Then each stripped off his clothes and put on those of the other, and as lusty a beggar was Robin Hood as e'er you could find of a summer's day. But stout Riccon of Holywell skipped and leaped and danced for joy of the fair suit of Lincoln green that he had so gotten. Quoth he, "I am a gay-feathered bird now. Truly, my dear Moll Peascod would never know me in this dress. Thou mayst keep the cold pieces of the feast, friend, for I mean to live well and lustily while my money lasts and my clothes are gay."

So he turned and left Robin and, crossing the stile, was gone, but Robin heard him singing from beyond the hedge as he strode away:

"For Polly is smiling and Molly is glad
When the beggar comes in at the door,
And Jack and Dick call him a fine lusty lad,
And the hostess runs up a great score.

Then hey, Willy Waddykin,
Stay, Billy Waddykin,
And let the brown ale flow free, flow free,
The beggar's the man for me."

Robin listened till the song ended in the distance, then he also crossed the stile into the road, but turned his toes away from where the Beggar had gone. The road led up a gentle hill and up the hill Robin walked, a half score or more of bags dangling about his legs. Onward he strolled for a long time, but other adventure he found not. The road was bare of all else but himself, as he went kicking up little clouds of dust at each footstep; for it was noontide, the most peaceful time of all the day, next to twilight. All the earth was silent in the restfulness of eating time; the plowhorses stood in the furrow munching, with great bags over their noses holding sweet food, the plowman sat under the hedge and the plowboy also, and they, too, were munching, each one holding a great piece of bread in one fist and a great piece of cheese in the other.

And Robin's on his way, Beggar-clad.

Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 19:00 on Sep 2, 2020

Genghis Cohen
Jun 29, 2013
Nice breakdown of the societal view of beggars!

I read this book on your initial recommendation, and it's great to follow along in a re-read.

Grenrow
Apr 11, 2016
While reading this thread, some of you may have thought to yourselves, "Wow, there were a lot of people running around with longbows all over medieval England, I wonder if that led to a bunch of injuries and deaths." The answer is yes, yes it did. This was an era before the 3 Rules of gun safety were invented and no one had any fucks to give. In 1556, a man named Thomas Curteys challenged his compatriot Richard Lyrence with the words, "Nowe let me se howe thou canst shott at my hatt." In a shocking twist of fate that couldn't possibly have been anticipated, he immediately died from Lyrence's arrow going straight through his head. Ye olde bowe safteye!

EDIT: This is from Steve Gunn's article "Archery Practice in Early Tudor England" in case anyone wants more stories about English people accidentally shooting each other with longbows.

Grenrow fucked around with this message at 22:24 on Sep 2, 2020

Cobalt-60
Oct 11, 2016

by Azathoth
I know there were bans on crossbows (at least in warfare; don't know if people carried them around normally), but were there any restrictions of longbows?

poisonpill
Nov 8, 2009

The only way to get huge fast is to insult a passing witch and hope she curses you with Beast-strength.


Decker was a legit cool author who knew the seedier side of life, and was a good bro in line with this thread. He spent seven years in debtors prison and worked with the best play-writes of his generation and the next, mostly focused on the common man. His best work, Shoemakers’ Holiday, ends with everyone getting together for a big pancake breakfast.

Grenrow
Apr 11, 2016

Cobalt-60 posted:

I know there were bans on crossbows (at least in warfare; don't know if people carried them around normally), but were there any restrictions of longbows?

There was never any point where crossbows were banned. People get that myth from the 2nd Lateran Council, which issued a bunch of canons intended to reform the church and establish its authority. It prohibited a lot of things, like hurting clerics, priests having wives or concubines, jousts and tournaments, and any fighting from Wednesday to Monday, none of which were practical to enforce or were going to be enforced. For some reason, the part of the 2nd lateran council people really latch onto in modern times is the prohibition against using missile weapons (not exclusively crossbows) on Christians. No one ever followed this or even thought about it for a second (no one followed any of the other rules either).

There's a mythology that goes around the internet and sometimes in pop history that a "crossbow ban" (which never in reality existed) was intended as some kind of class warfare measure, which is absolute nonsense. Knights did not feel threatened by the existence of the crossbow. They loved having more crossbows in their armies, being Master of the Crossbows was a prestigious role at court, and they spent huge amounts of money buying and stockpiling crossbows. Depending on where and who you were, owning a bow or a crossbow might even be legally mandatory. In England, it wasn't really "normal" to carry around a whole longbow and arrows unless you were doing something with them, like traveling or going down to the public archery butts to practice. If you were coming into a city, you were supposed to put up your weapons at whatever location you were staying (like an inn) after you arrived, but just going off death records and murder cases, this wasn't a law people felt a huge reason to follow.

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound
Robin Hood Turns Beggar (Part 2 of 3)

This next section is based on "Little John a-Begging" (Child Ballad 142), also found in Ritson as "Little John and the Four Beggars."

quote:

So Robin, with all the empty road to himself, strode along whistling merrily, his bags and pouches bobbing and dangling at his thighs. At last he came to where a little grass-grown path left the road and, passing through a stile and down a hill, led into a little dell and on across a rill in the valley and up the hill on the other side, till it reached a windmill that stood on the cap of the rise where the wind bent the trees in swaying motion. Robin looked at the spot and liked it, and, for no reason but that his fancy led him, he took the little path and walked down the grassy sunny slope of the open meadow, and so came to the little dingle and, ere he knew it, upon four lusty fellows that sat with legs outstretched around a goodly feast spread upon the ground.

Four merry beggars were they, and each had slung about his neck a little board that rested upon his breast. One board had written upon it, "I am blind," another, "I am deaf," another, "I am dumb," and the fourth, "Pity the lame one." But although all these troubles written upon the boards seemed so grievous, the four stout fellows sat around feasting as merrily as though Cain's wife had never opened the pottle that held misfortunes and let them forth like a cloud of flies to pester us.

The deaf man was the first to hear Robin, for he said, "Hark, brothers, I hear someone coming." And the blind man was the first to see him, for he said, "He is an honest man, brothers, and one of like craft to ourselves." Then the dumb man called to him in a great voice and said, "Welcome, brother; come and sit while there is still some of the feast left and a little Malmsey in the pottle." At this, the lame man, who had taken off his wooden leg and unstrapped his own leg, and was sitting with it stretched out upon the grass so as to rest it, made room for Robin among them. "We are glad to see thee, brother," said he, holding out the flask of Malmsey.


So really this should be titled "Robin Hood and the Four Con Artists."

The bit about "Cain's Wife" is interesting because it's an obvious re-frame of the Pandora myth, and one I've never seen anywhere else. I suspect Pyle just didn't want any classical greek references in his Merrie Englande. Merrie Englande is Christian.


quote:


"Marry," quoth Robin, laughing, and weighing the flask in his hands ere he drank, "methinks it is no more than seemly of you all to be glad to see me, seeing that I bring sight to the blind, speech to the dumb, hearing to the deaf, and such a lusty leg to a lame man. I drink to your happiness, brothers, as I may not drink to your health, seeing ye are already hale, wind and limb."

At this all grinned, and the Blind beggar, who was the chief man among them, and was the broadest shouldered and most lusty rascal of all, smote Robin upon the shoulder, swearing he was a right merry wag.

"Whence comest thou, lad?" asked the Dumb man.

"Why," quoth Robin, "I came this morning from sleeping overnight in Sherwood."

"Is it even so?" said the Deaf man. "I would not for all the money we four are carrying to Lincoln Town sleep one night in Sherwood. If Robin Hood caught one of our trade in his woodlands he would, methinks, clip his ears."

"Methinks he would, too," quoth Robin, laughing. "But what money is this that ye speak of?"

It's interesting that Robin so readily agrees that he would "clip [their] ears."

quote:

quote:

"Cropping was quite rare in England, but more common in Guernsey.[7] Notable cases of cropping in England include Thomas Barrie in 1538, who reputedly died from shock following his cropping,[6] and John Bastwick, William Prynne, and Henry Burton in 1637.[8] In the 16th century, Henry VIII amended the laws on vagrancy to decree that first offences would be punished with three days in the stocks, second offences with cropping, and third offences with hanging."

So Robin's saying he would actually inflict a real punishment for vagrancy on these vagrants; Robin here is enforcing the law. Why? Because these con artists are robbers and decievers of the middle class and poor; they're the bad kind of outlaw, not the good kind like Robin.


quote:



Then up spake the Lame man. "Our king, Peter of York," said he, "hath sent us to Lincoln with those moneys that—"

Wait, the beggars have a "King" ? Let's talk about that. The idea of a "king of the beggars" or "Beggar's Guild" is a commonplace in fantasy novels but as far as I can tell doesn't really have any historical antecedents in England (from what I can tell, there may have been historical begging guilds in Germany in the medieval era, and there definitely were in India). Dekker does describe the various beggars as having "ranks," but doesn't seem to go beyond that, or to imply a "king". So Pyle's probably adding a bit of a flourish here.

quote:

"Stay, brother Hodge," quoth the Blind man, breaking into the talk, "I would not doubt our brother here, but bear in mind we know him not. What art thou, brother? Upright-man, Jurkman, Clapper-dudgeon, Dommerer, or Abraham-man?"

They call each other "brother" as a title: this is definitely a guild.

All those weird words are real cant terms right out of Thomas Dekker. Clapper-dudgeons and abraham-men we've covered above. "Dommerers" were (again, according to Dekker) men who pretended their tongues had been cut out, faking this rather cleverly apparently, and shoving a sharp stick into their mouths to cause bleeding, filling their mouths with blood and thus obscuring the tongue. Jarkmen seem to have been forgers -- from "iark" or "jark", cant for (wax?) seals -- and upright-men fake soldiers who would beat on people's doors and demand food and lodging (cursed 3rd amendment spoiling a good racket).

quote:


At these words Robin looked from one man to the other with mouth agape. "Truly," quoth he, "I trust I am an upright man, at least, I strive to be; but I know not what thou meanest by such jargon, brother. It were much more seemly, methinks, if yon Dumb man, who hath a sweet voice, would give us a song."

At these words a silence fell on all, and after a while the Blind man spoke again. Quoth he, "Thou dost surely jest when thou sayest that thou dost not understand such words. Answer me this: Hast thou ever fibbed a chouse quarrons in the Rome pad for the loure in his bung?"4


4
I.E., in old beggar's cant, "beaten a man or gallant upon the
highway for the money in his purse." Dakkar's ENGLISH VILLAINIES.


Oh poo poo. Looks like Robin's got to roll a Thieves' Cant check!

quote:

"Now out upon it," quoth Robin Hood testily, "an ye make sport of me by pattering such gibberish, it will be ill for you all, I tell you. I have the best part of a mind to crack the heads of all four of you, and would do so, too, but for the sweet Malmsey ye have given me. Brother, pass the pottle lest it grow cold."



quote:


But all the four beggars leaped to their feet when Robin had done speaking, and the Blind man snatched up a heavy knotted cudgel that lay beside him on the grass, as did the others likewise. Then Robin, seeing that things were like to go ill with him, albeit he knew not what all the coil was about, leaped to his feet also and, catching up his trusty staff, clapped his back against the tree and stood upon his guard against them. "How, now!" cried he, twirling his staff betwixt his fingers, "would you four stout fellows set upon one man? Stand back, ye rascals, or I will score your pates till they have as many marks upon them as a pothouse door! Are ye mad? I have done you no harm."

"Thou liest!" quoth the one who pretended to be blind and who, being the lustiest villain, was the leader of the others, "thou liest! For thou hast come among us as a vile spy. But thine ears have heard too much for thy body's good, and thou goest not forth from this place unless thou goest feet foremost, for this day thou shalt die! Come, brothers, all together! Down with him!" Then, whirling up his cudgel, he rushed upon Robin as an angry bull rushes upon a red rag. But Robin was ready for any happening. "Crick! Crack!" he struck two blows as quick as a wink, and down went the Blind man, rolling over and over upon the grass.

At this the others bore back and stood at a little distance scowling upon Robin. "Come on, ye scum!" cried he merrily. "Here be cakes and ale for all. Now, who will be next served?"

To this speech the beggars answered never a word, but they looked at Robin as great Blunderbore looked upon stout Jack the slayer of giants, as though they would fain eat him, body and bones; nevertheless, they did not care to come nigher to him and his terrible staff. Then, seeing them so hesitate, Robin of a sudden leaped upon them, striking even as he leaped. Down went the Dumb man, and away flew his cudgel from his hand as he fell. At this the others ducked to avoid another blow, then, taking to their heels, scampered, the one one way and the other the other, as though they had the west wind's boots upon their feet. Robin looked after them, laughing, and thought that never had he seen so fleet a runner as the Lame man; but neither of the beggars stopped nor turned around, for each felt in his mind the wind of Robin's cudgel about his ears.

In the original ballad, the joke about making the dumb man speak and the lame man run happens here, rather than above:

quote:


John nipped the dumb, and made him to rore,
And the blind that could not see,
And he that a cripple had been seven years,
He made him run faster then he.

quote:

Then Robin turned to the two stout knaves lying upon the ground. Quoth he, "These fellows spake somewhat about certain moneys they were taking to Lincoln; methinks I may find it upon this stout blind fellow, who hath as keen sight as e'er a trained woodsman in Nottingham or Yorkshire. It were a pity to let sound money stay in the pockets of such thieving knaves." So saying, he stooped over the burly rascal and searched among his rags and tatters, till presently his fingers felt a leathern pouch slung around his body beneath his patched and tattered coat. This he stripped away and, weighing it in his hands, bethought himself that it was mighty heavy. "It were a sweet thing," said he to himself, "if this were filled with gold instead of copper pence." Then, sitting down upon the grass, he opened the pocket and looked into it. There he found four round rolls wrapped up in dressed sheepskin; one of these rolls he opened; then his mouth gaped and his eyes stared, I wot, as though they would never close again, for what did he see but fifty pounds of bright golden money? He opened the other pockets and found in each one the same, fifty bright new-stamped golden pounds. Quoth Robin, "I have oft heard that the Beggars' Guild was over-rich, but never did I think that they sent such sums as this to their treasury. I shall take it with me, for it will be better used for charity and the good of my merry band than in the enriching of such knaves as these." So saying, he rolled up the money in the sheepskin again, and putting it back in the purse, he thrust the pouch into his own bosom. Then taking up the flask of Malmsey, he held it toward the two fellows lying on the grass, and quoth he, "Sweet friends, I drink your health and thank you dearly for what ye have so kindly given me this day, and so I wish you good den." Then, taking up his staff, he left the spot and went merrily on his way.

The original ballad has Little John finding three hundred pounds on the beggars.

quote:

quote:

"At a time when, it has been estimated, a craftsman earned three pounds a year, these are unimaginably large sums of money, perhaps equivalent to the astronomical "street value" quoted today for drugs impounded by police."
https://d.lib.rochester.edu/teams/text/little-john-a-begging


quote:

But when the two stout beggars that had been rapped upon the head roused themselves and sat up, and when the others had gotten over their fright and come back, they were as sad and woebegone as four frogs in dry weather, for two of them had cracked crowns, their Malmsey was all gone, and they had not so much as a farthing to cross their palms withal.


Oh, I'm sure they'll be fine.


The next section is really interesting for several reasons, not least of which that it isn't based on a ballad at all.

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound
Robin Hood Turns Beggar (Part 3 of 3)

quote:

But after Robin left the little dell he strode along merrily, singing as he went; and so blithe was he and such a stout beggar, and, withal, so fresh and clean, that every merry lass he met had a sweet word for him and felt no fear, while the very dogs, that most times hate the sight of a beggar, snuffed at his legs in friendly wise and wagged their tails pleasantly; for dogs know an honest man by his smell, and an honest man Robin was—in his own way.

Thus he went along till at last he had come to the wayside cross nigh Ollerton, and, being somewhat tired, he sat him down to rest upon the grassy bank in front of it. "It groweth nigh time," quoth he to himself, "that I were getting back again to Sherwood; yet it would please me well to have one more merry adventure ere I go back again to my jolly band."

So he looked up the road and down the road to see who might come, until at last he saw someone drawing near, riding upon a horse. When the traveler came nigh enough for him to see him well, Robin laughed, for a strange enough figure he cut. He was a thin, wizened man, and, to look upon him, you could not tell whether he was thirty years old or sixty, so dried up was he even to skin and bone. As for the nag, it was as thin as the rider, and both looked as though they had been baked in Mother Huddle's Oven, where folk are dried up so that they live forever.

"Mother Huddle's Oven" is also in Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, but again, the citation in Brewer's is to this quote from Pyle, and Pyle was more than happy to invent his own myths and legends in order to get the appropriate reference.


quote:

But although Robin laughed at the droll sight, he knew the wayfarer to be a certain rich corn engrosser of Worksop, who more than once had bought all the grain in the countryside and held it till it reached even famine prices, thus making much money from the needs of poor people, and for this he was hated far and near by everyone that knew aught of him.

So, after a while, the Corn Engrosser came riding up to where Robin sat; whereupon merry Robin stepped straightway forth, in all his rags and tatters, his bags and pouches dangling about him, and laid his hand upon the horse's bridle rein, calling upon the other to stop.




Look, everybody -- it's a capitalist!

The main problem with "robbing from the rich and stealing from the poor" for a medieval Robin is that "The Rich" were a fairly small pool in medieval england -- the nobility and the church. And some of them, presumably, are good people. So medieval Robin only had fairly limited "legitimate" prey -- corrupt priests (e.g., our Bishop of Hereford) or corrupt nobility (our good friend the right noble Sheriff of Nottingham).

Now we finally have an actual evil capitalist for Robin to prey upon.

"Corn" of course at this stage of the world means any kind of grain. Our modern word for "engrosser" would be "monopolist".

quote:

Engrossers, forestallers, and regraters of grain were frequently condemned by English writers of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries-and with good reason, as one learns by examining the historical background of their attacks. In both centuries, numerous royal proclamations condemned and forbade speculation in grain. Henry VIII issued a proclamation in 1512 forbidding the engros-sing or forestalling of grain in certain counties, and in 1527, 1529, and 1534 made his injunctions applicable to the whole kingdom.1 Edward VI, in 1551, rebuked " such of his subiectes, as be engrossers of Fermes, victualles, and other thinges, &c." and urged " amende- ment of ther gredy and insaciable doinges." Elizabeth and the Stuart monarchs issued proclamations specifically prohibiting specu-lations in grain.

" Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century Satire against Grain Engrossers," by Burton Milligan, Studies in Philology , Oct., 1940, Vol. 37, No. 4 (Oct., 1940), pp. 585-597.

I won't quote that article in any more length here, but it's rather lengthy and goes through all the various plays and sermons and so forth of the period that criticized "engrossers" of grain. What it shows overall, I think, is that grain hoarding by aspiring monopolists was a *huge* problem. The penalties, though, seem to have been much lighter than what we saw for vagabondage; no corn hoarders were having their ears cropped. Instead the standard penalty seems to have just been fines (to the point that one Captain John Clarke at one point sought a letter patent from Queen Elizabeth I for the right to collect said fines).

The same article also lists, at some length, all the known ballads that satirized or mocked grain engrossers; none of the ballads he mentions involved Robin Hood in any way, not even peripherally; what comeuppance came to engrossers in the traditional ballads apparently tended to come either by religious or supernatural means.



quote:



"Who art thou, fellow, that doth dare to stop me thus upon the King's highway?" said the lean man, in a dry, sour voice.

"Pity a poor beggar," quoth Robin. "Give me but a farthing to buy me a piece of bread."

"Now, out upon thee!" snarled the other. "Such sturdy rogues as thou art are better safe in the prisons or dancing upon nothing, with a hempen collar about the neck, than strolling the highways so freely."

"Tut," quoth Robin, "how thou talkest! Thou and I are brothers, man. Do we not both take from the poor people that which they can ill spare? Do we not make our livings by doing nought of any good? Do we not both live without touching palm to honest work? Have we either of us ever rubbed thumbs over honestly gained farthings? Go to! We are brothers, I say; only thou art rich and I am poor; wherefore, I prythee once more, give me a penny."

Robin PREACH.

I like that Robin is giving Mr. Engrosser a chance to show good character and help the poor. Robin knows he *won't*, but he had his chance.

J.C. Holt has a whole chapter in his book arguing that the primary audience for the original Robin Hood ballads was the yoemanry -- not those in actual poverty and not those with actual wealth, but the closest equivalent the era had to the "middle class," artisans and tradesmen and small landowners and people "in service" as career military or career servants.

So here Robin draws a parallel between a lower-class villain who preys upon the poor, and a rich villain who does the same. I'm reminded of the recent memes that compare poor and rich "looters" or "banksters."


quote:

"Doss thou prate so to me, sirrah?" cried the Corn Engrosser in a rage. "Now I will have thee soundly whipped if ever I catch thee in any town where the law can lay hold of thee! As for giving thee a penny, I swear to thee that I have not so much as a single groat in my purse. Were Robin Hood himself to take me, he might search me from crown to heel without finding the smallest piece of money upon me. I trust I am too sly to travel so nigh to Sherwood with money in my pouch, and that thief at large in the woods."

Then merry Robin looked up and down, as if to see that there was no one nigh, and then, coming close to the Corn Engrosser, he stood on tiptoe and spake in his ear, "Thinkest thou in sooth that I am a beggar, as I seem to be? Look upon me. There is not a grain of dirt upon my hands or my face or my body. Didst thou ever see a beggar so? I tell thee I am as honest a man as thou art. Look, friend." Here he took the purse of money from his breast and showed to the dazzled eyes of the Corn Engrosser the bright golden pieces. "Friend, these rags serve but to hide an honest rich man from the eyes of Robin Hood."

He is as honest as thou art, Corn Engrosser!

quote:

"Put up thy money, lad," cried the other quickly. "Art thou a fool, to trust to beggar's rags to shield thee from Robin Hood? If he caught thee, he would strip thee to the skin, for he hates a lusty beggar as he doth a fat priest or those of my kind."

"Is it indeed so?" quoth Robin. "Had I known this, mayhap I had not come hereabouts in this garb. But I must go forward now, as much depends upon my journeying. Where goest thou, friend?"

"I go to Grantham," said the Corn Engrosser, "but I shall lodge tonight at Newark, if I can get so far upon my way."

"Why, I myself am on the way to Newark," quoth merry Robin, "so that, as two honest men are better than one in roads beset by such a fellow as this Robin Hood, I will jog along with thee, if thou hast no dislike to my company."

"Why, as thou art an honest fellow and a rich fellow," said the Corn Engrosser, "I mind not thy company; but, in sooth, I have no great fondness for beggars."

"Then forward," quoth Robin, "for the day wanes and it will be dark ere we reach Newark." So off they went, the lean horse hobbling along as before, and Robin running beside, albeit he was so quaking with laughter within him that he could hardly stand; yet he dared not laugh aloud, lest the Corn Engrosser should suspect something. So they traveled along till they reached a hill just on the outskirts of Sherwood. Here the lean man checked his lean horse into a walk, for the road was steep, and he wished to save his nag's strength, having far to go ere he reached Newark. Then he turned in his saddle and spake to Robin again, for the first time since they had left the cross. "Here is thy greatest danger, friend," said he, "for here we are nighest to that vile thief Robin Hood, and the place where he dwells. Beyond this we come again to the open honest country, and so are more safe in our journeying."

"Alas!" quoth Robin, "I would that I had as little money by me as thou hast, for this day I fear that Robin Hood will get every groat of my wealth."

Then the other looked at Robin and winked cunningly. Quoth he, "I tell thee, friend, that I have nigh as much by me as thou hast, but it is hidden so that never a knave in Sherwood could find it."

No knave, perhaps, but only one as honest as good Robin!

quote:


"Thou dost surely jest," quoth Robin. "How could one hide so much as two hundred pounds upon his person?"

"Now, as thou art so honest a fellow, and, withal, so much younger than I am, I will tell thee that which I have told to no man in all the world before, and thus thou mayst learn never again to do such a foolish thing as to trust to beggar's garb to guard thee against Robin Hood. Seest thou these clogs upon my feet?"

"Yea," quoth Robin, laughing, "truly, they are large enough for any man to see, even were his sight as foggy as that of Peter Patter, who never could see when it was time to go to work."

"Peace, friend," said the Corn Engrosser, "for this is no matter for jesting. The soles of these clogs are not what they seem to be, for each one is a sweet little box; and by twisting the second nail from the toe, the upper of the shoe and part of the sole lifts up like a lid, and in the spaces within are fourscore and ten bright golden pounds in each shoe, all wrapped in hair, to keep them from clinking and so telling tales of themselves."

When the Corn Engrosser had told this, Robin broke into a roar of laughter and, laying his hands upon the bridle rein, stopped the sad- looking nag. "Stay, good friend," quoth he, between bursts of merriment, "thou art the slyest old fox that e'er I saw in all my life! —In the soles of his shoon, quotha!—If ever I trust a poor-seeming man again, shave my head and paint it blue! A corn factor, a horse jockey, an estate agent, and a jackdaw for cunningness, say I!" And he laughed again till he shook in his shoes with mirth.

All this time the Corn Engrosser had been staring at Robin, his mouth agape with wonder. "Art thou mad," quoth he, "to talk in this way, so loud and in such a place? Let us forward, and save thy mirth till we are safe and sound at Newark."

"Nay," quoth Robin, the tears of merriment wet on his cheeks, "on second thoughts I go no farther than here, for I have good friends hereabouts. Thou mayst go forward if thou dost list, thou sweet pretty fellow, but thou must go forward barefoot, for I am afraid that thy shoon must be left behind. Off with them, friend, for I tell thee I have taken a great fancy to them."

At these words the corn factor grew pale as a linen napkin. "Who art thou that talkest so?" said he.

Then merry Robin laughed again, and quoth he, "Men hereabouts call me Robin Hood; so, sweet friend, thou hadst best do my bidding and give me thy shoes, wherefore hasten, I prythee, or else thou wilt not get to fair Newark Town till after dark."

Really should have asked him his name before now!

Here are the excerpts from A general and true history of the lives and actions of the most famous highwaymen by "Captain Charles Johnson" which I believe were likely Pyle's sources for this tale:





This is pretty much the only mention of the phrases "Corn Engrosser" and "Robin Hood" in the same text, anywhere in all of Google Books, predating Pyle's narrative -- and we know Pyle used this same text as a source for some of his pirate stories also (as I went over above. The same text also contains a companion passage about a landlord concealing rent money in his socks, and Robin wheedling it out of him by pretending to be an honest fellow traveller. So Pyle's taken both tales, woven them together with the strand of Robin's begging, and added in some class commentary on how rich upper-class villains are no better than lower-class ones.

quote:

At the sound of the name of Robin Hood, the corn factor quaked with fear, so that he had to seize his horse by the mane to save himself from falling off its back. Then straightway, and without more words, he stripped off his clogs and let them fall upon the road. Robin, still holding the bridle rein, stooped and picked them up. Then he said, "Sweet friend, I am used to ask those that I have dealings with to come and feast at Sherwood with me. I will not ask thee, because of our pleasant journey together; for I tell thee there be those in Sherwood that would not be so gentle with thee as I have been. The name of Corn Engrosser leaves a nasty taste upon the tongue of all honest men. Take a fool's advice of me and come no more so nigh to Sherwood, or mayhap some day thou mayst of a sudden find a clothyard shaft betwixt thy ribs. So, with this, I give thee good den." Hereupon he clapped his hand to the horse's flank and off went nag and rider. But the man's face was all bedewed with the sweat of fright, and never again, I wot, was he found so close to Sherwood Forest as he had been this day.

Robin stood and looked after him, and, when he was fairly gone, turned, laughing, and entered the forest carrying the shoes in his hand.

That night in sweet Sherwood the red fires glowed brightly in wavering light on tree and bush, and all around sat or lay the stout fellows of the band to hear Robin Hood and Little John tell their adventures. All listened closely, and again and again the woods rang with shouts of laughter.

When all was told, Friar Tuck spoke up. "Good master," said he, "thou hast had a pretty time, but still I hold to my saying, that the life of the barefoot friar is the merrier of the two."

"Nay," quoth Will Stutely, "I hold with our master, that he hath had the pleasanter doings of the two, for he hath had two stout bouts at quarterstaff this day."

So some of the band held with Robin Hood and some with Little John. As for me, I think — But I leave it with you to say for yourselves which you hold with.



I like that Pyle's given us a choice as to who had the merrier adventure. And good ol' Little John definitely had a great time.

As for me, though, this particular adventure of Robin's might be my favorite in the whole book, at least right now. Partly that's because it's taken the most work to untangle the source material, but .. . well, given the current structure of our modern economy -- which is almost entirely driven by established (time-warner cable; microsoft; google) or aspiring (uber; netflix) monopolies -- Robin robbing a monopolist is just especially cheering.

And, in fact, one thing I found in my attempts to dig up Pyle's source here is that this particular adventure, above all others in the book, seems to be frequently cited. I found references to it in in socialist newsletters from the turn of the century, in trade union publications, and even in the Congressional Record.

Khizan
Jul 30, 2013


I like how Robin always lets the Sheriff and the Bishop get away after he robs them and has the Sheriff over as a 'guest' multiple times, but the Corn Engrosser getrs straight up told "You come back around these parts and we're gonna kill you."

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound

Khizan posted:

I like how Robin always lets the Sheriff and the Bishop get away after he robs them and has the Sheriff over as a 'guest' multiple times, but the Corn Engrosser getrs straight up told "You come back around these parts and we're gonna kill you."

Yeah, Mr. Monopoly doesn't get invited back for cool forest bro feast time. Just get your rear end outta here before we shoot you. This guy doesn't belong in the Greenwood.

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound

Genghis Cohen posted:

Nice breakdown of the societal view of beggars!

I read this book on your initial recommendation, and it's great to follow along in a re-read.

Thanks!

That makes me wonder though -- are most peoplr finished with the book by now, or are people just going chapter by chapter as I post them?

I don't want to hold discussion back -- if people have whole book comments please share.

owlhawk911
Nov 8, 2019

come chill with me, in byob

Hieronymous Alloy posted:

Thanks!

That makes me wonder though -- are most peoplr finished with the book by now, or are people just going chapter by chapter as I post them?

I don't want to hold discussion back -- if people have whole book comments please share.

i ain't read poo poo beside what's itt. you've been tucking me in with robin hood bedtime stories and commentary all month :twisted:

Cobalt-60
Oct 11, 2016

by Azathoth
I've read the whole book multiple times, but I've been going through and re-reading parts.

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound
I found this interesting note on one historical Bishop of Hereford, Adam Orleton.

quote:

if we assume that Robin was a supporter of Edward II, then he had a particular reason to go after Orleton -- and to call him Bishop of Hereford even after his translation. Doherty describes Orleton (p. 86) as "ruffianly," while Hutchison, p. 128, calls him "unamiable and self-serving." Even the less pro-Edward Harvey declares (p. 160) that he was one of several bishops who "counted treason as nothing."

The most positive assessment I can find of him is in Hicks, p. 61, who thinks the Pope liked and promoted Orleton because Orleton -- a man of "exceptionally obscure" origins -- believed in a strongly hierarchical church (a church, thus, which might promote men like Orleton!). Hicks also notes that he seems to have made genuine efforts to manage his diocese well, and says that his reputation has suffered because of the works of one particular chronicler. This argument does not seem to have been convincing; few other historians have anything better to say of Orleton than Ormrod, p. 28, who merely calls him a "political prelate" (although, interestingly, he would later play a role in claiming the kingdom of France for Edward III) and Barber, who on p. 14 calls him "far from incompetent."

Orleton was unusual in that he was not the monarch's pick for his see. Edward II had opposed Orleton's appointment in the first place (Prestwich3, p. 105; Hicks, p. 61). Phillips, p. 450, says that Edward II had sent him on a mission to Avignon in 1317, and that Orleton managed to obtain the Bishopric of Hereford while there, presumably by intrigue. Edward tried to have the Pope set him aside. Orleton would more than have his revenge:
Edward II had trouble with several of his bishops at one time or another, but Phillips, pp. 453-454, says that Orleton was the one bishop with whom he was never reconciled -- he was actually called before judges in 1324 (Phillips, p. 453). Doherty, p. 86, declares that Orleton of Hereford was a friend of Roger Mortimer (who became Isabella's lover and later led the rebellion against Edward II) and helped Mortimer escape from the Tower. Edward, not surprisingly, took away his temporalities (Hutchison, p. 130). Later, Orleton would preach against Edward II's favorites the Despensers (Doherty, p. 91), and Hutchison, p. 135, declares that he "preached treason" at Oxford.

"The bishop of Hereford declared in the parliament of 1326 that if Isabella rejoined her husband [Edward II] she would suffer death at his hands. Soon after, we find the Bishop of Hereford allied with Queen Isabella against the King; he was one of those who joined her party in France" (Prestwich3, p. 97; although Phillips, p. 504, says that Orleton joined the rebels after they landed in England. Doherty also supposts the claim that Orleton saved Isabella from being reunited from her husband, allowing her to stick with her lover Mortimer).

Phillips, p. 98, says that Orleton was the first to openly declare Edward II a sodomite -- although it must have been whispered earlier; he also called Edward a tyrant (Phillips, p. 523, who notes however that Orleton later claimed -- once the political tide had turned -- that he was using the words about Hugh Despenser the Younger rather than Edward. Phillips, pp. 523-524, n. 22, does add that the charge of sodomy was widely reported on the continent but occurs rarely in English chronicles).

Once the anti-Edward rebellion succeeded, Isabella and Mortimer had to figure out what to do with Edward. They finally decided on trying to get him to publicly give up his throne -- and Orleton was one of those sent to talk him into it (Doherty, p. 110. Edward of course refused to go along). Orleton did manage to retrieve the Privy Seal (Hutchison, p. 137). When Parliament met, Orleton presented most of the arguments for Edward's deposition (Doherty, pp. 110-111; Hutchison, p. 138, says that on January 13, 1327, he preached on the theme "A foolish king shall ruin his people"). In Hutchison's view, in the period immediately after Edward's deposition, three people ran the country: "the adulteress Isabella, her paramour Mortimer and the execrable Orleton" (p. 140).

Orleton would later, once Edward III was firmly in control, be accused of ordering the death of Edward II. He was able to prove his innocence -- he was both out of favor and out of the country at the time of the murder (Doherty, pp. 130-131) -- but surely friends of the king would be those most likely to listen to such rumors.

We know Orleton ended up with a reputation for sneakiness. A late source, demonstrably false, told of him sending a message to Edward II's guards, "Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est" (Doherty, p. 130). If punctuated with a comma after timere, this becomes "Do not be afraid to kill Edward; it is good"; if punctuated with a comma before timere, it is "Do not kill Edward; it is good to be afraid." We know it's not true because, first, Orleton wasn't in the country to send the message, and second, the story was originally told of someone else (Hutchison, p. 142; Doherty, pp. 130-131). But it is probably a valid example of how Orleton was seen at the time.

Thus, while Robin Hood disliked bishops in general, if he lived c. 1327, the bishop he would surely hate above all would be Orleton of Hereford.
The most likely time for the robbery might be the period in 1327-1328, when memories of Orleton's part in the deposition of Edward II were fresh and Orleton was Lord Treasurer and hence would be dealing with large sums of money. Toward the end of the latter year, Orleton lost his post of Treasurer because he disagreed with the forced regency of Roger Mortimer (Ormrod, p. 15).

So while it would be unlikely that a bishop would carry 300 pounds, let along the 800 pounds allegedly taken from the cellarer of the "Gest," Orleton, if taken after 1333, or during his time as treasurer, would be good for the sum. And Robin and his men might call him "Bishop of Hereford" even after he was translated, because the translations took place under a regime they disapproved of. And Orleton lived until 1345, so there was plenty of time to rob him after his translations.

http://www.fresnostate.edu/folklore/ballads/C117D.html

anilEhilated
Feb 17, 2014

But I say fuck the rain.

Grimey Drawer
I've finished the book, I just don't have much to add to the discussion or your - frankly fascinating - effort posts. I think my favorite part of this thread was learning that the Sheriff of Nottingham got his own line in the Magna Carta.

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound
Robin Hood Shoots Before Queen Eleanor

We're getting into the home stretch here; only a few ballads left!


This chapter is based on Robin Hood and Queen Katherine, Child Ballad 145. It exists in several different versions, most of which were more or less damaged (with several cruxes only resolved with the discovery of the Forresters Manuscript in 1993, which of course Pyle never saw). Pyle seems to have drawn on all the versions he had, and used his imagination to fill in the gaps. Pyle changes it to "Eleanor" because he's set all this during the reign of Henry II, and Henry's wife was Eleanor of Acquitaine, famous for classing up the British Isles by introducing that fancy french invention, the "chimney.".

Eleanor also acted as Regent while King Richard was on the 3rd Crusade (which will come up later!)

Here's our ballad grandpa singing this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlUoj81rTTQ

quote:

According to Knight/Ohlgren, ["Robin Hood and Queen Katherine"] must have been in existence by 1655, because one of the Wood broadsides (Child's B.a) was printed by Grove, who ceased operations in that year.
We also know from internal references in one of the extant versions that it probably post-dated "A True Tale of Robin Hood," Child Ballad 154, which dates to 1632. So we're looking at a 17th century ballad here, relatively late in the tradition compared to our other sources.

http://www.fresnostate.edu/folklore/ballads/C145.html

Interestingly, there was no English or Scottish "Queen Katherine" in any Robin-Hood-appropriate time period. The earliest of them, Catherine of Valois, married Henry V in 1420. Henry VIII married both Catherine of Aragon and Katherine Howard -- but Katherine Howard post-dates the Dissolution of the Monasteries, so what of poor Friar Tuck? Or, for that matter, the Bishop of Hereford? Robin has to pre-date the Dissolution, or there wouldn't be any fat priests for him to rob.

If it is a reference to Catherine of Aragon, there may be a specific incident that this ballad connects with:

quote:

On 18th January 1510, Henry VIII and twelve of his men disguised themselves as outlaws, or Robin Hood and his merry men, and surprised Queen Catherine and her ladies. Chronicler Edward Hall records this event:

"The kyng sone after, came to Westminster with the Quene, and all their train: And on a tyme beyng there, his grace therles of Essex, Wilshire, and other noble menne, to the nombre, of twelue, came sodainly in a mornyng, into the Quens Chambre, all appareled in shorte cotes, of Kentishe Kendal, with hodes on their heddes, and hosen of thesame, euery one of them, his bowe and arrowes, and a sworde and a bucklar, like out lawes, or Robyn Hodes men, whereof the Quene, the Ladies, and al other there, were abashed, aswell for the straunge sight, as also for their sodain commyng, and after certain daunces, and pastime made, thei departed."


https://www.tudorsociety.com/18-january-1510-henry-viii-dresses-up/

So Henry VIII was into Robin Hood enough to do cosplay, so maybe that was inspiration to some balladeers. Ritson just argues that since Henry had multiple wives named "Catherine," it just would have been a familiar queenly name to period writers.

Either way, this is a relatively late ballad. It's a little derivative of stuff we've already seen -- another archery competition! -- but it weaves some tropes into the legend that we don't see elsewhere, and it sets us up for the next chapter, which is fairly dramatic. So I understand why Pyle included it.




quote:

THE HIGHROAD stretched white and dusty in the hot summer afternoon sun, and the trees stood motionless along the roadside. All across the meadow lands the hot air danced and quivered, and in the limpid waters of the lowland brook, spanned by a little stone bridge, the fish hung motionless above the yellow gravel, and the dragonfly sat quite still, perched upon the sharp tip of a spike of the rushes, with its wings glistening in the sun.

Along the road a youth came riding upon a fair milk-white barb, and the folk that he passed stopped and turned and looked after him, for never had so lovely a lad or one so gaily clad been seen in Nottingham before. He could not have been more than sixteen years of age, and was as fair as any maiden. His long yellow hair flowed behind him as he rode along, all clad in silk and velvet, with jewels flashing and dagger jingling against the pommel of the saddle. Thus came the Queen's Page, young Richard Partington, from famous London Town down into Nottinghamshire, upon Her Majesty's bidding, to seek Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest.


What is this pretty, pretty boy doing looking for Stout Robin? What interest has the Queen in our bold outlaw?


quote:


The road was hot and dusty and his journey had been long, for that day he had come all the way from Leicester Town, a good twenty miles and more; wherefore young Partington was right glad when he saw before him a sweet little inn, all shady and cool beneath the trees, in front of the door of which a sign hung pendant, bearing the picture of a blue boar. Here he drew rein and called loudly for a pottle of Rhenish wine to be brought him, for stout country ale was too coarse a drink for this young gentleman. Five lusty fellows sat upon the bench beneath the pleasant shade of the wide-spreading oak in front of the inn door, drinking ale and beer, and all stared amain at this fair and gallant lad. Two of the stoutest of them were clothed in Lincoln green, and a great heavy oaken staff leaned against the gnarled oak tree trunk beside each fellow.

The landlord came and brought a pottle of wine and a long narrow glass upon a salver, which he held up to the Page as he sat upon his horse. Young Partington poured forth the bright yellow wine and holding the glass aloft, cried, "Here is to the health and long happiness of my royal mistress, the noble Queen Eleanor; and may my journey and her desirings soon have end, and I find a certain stout yeoman men call Robin Hood."

At these words all stared, but presently the two stout yeomen in Lincoln green began whispering together. Then one of the two, whom Partington thought to be the tallest and stoutest fellow he had ever beheld, spoke up and said, "What seekest thou of Robin Hood, Sir Page? And what does our good Queen Eleanor wish of him? I ask this of thee, not foolishly, but with reason, for I know somewhat of this stout yeoman."

"Uh, should we talk to this guy?" "Little John, you better go talk to him"


Pyle's re-arranging the order of the ballad a bit but otherwise sticking pretty close to the source material; the page's name is "Patrington" and his conduct is similar:

quote:


And when he came to Nottingham
And there took up his inn,
He call'd for a pottle of Renish wine
And dranck a health to his queen.

The main difference Pyle adds here is the slight initial suspicion on the part of our stout yoemen, who in the ballad only ask

quote:


Then sate a yeoman by his side
"Tell me, sweet page," said hee,
"What is thy businesse or thy cause
So farr in the North contrie?"


and then as soon as Partrington answers, the unnamed Yoeman takes him to meet Robin. Interestingly, "So farr in the north contrie" may indicate that Catherine was written near London, rather than in the north of England; Nottingham and environs were generally seen at the time as the beginning of "northern England."

quote:

"An thou knowest aught of him, good fellow," said young Partington, "thou wilt do great service to him and great pleasure to our royal Queen by aiding me to find him."

Then up spake the other yeoman, who was a handsome fellow with sunburned face and nut-brown, curling hair, "Thou hast an honest look, Sir Page, and our Queen is kind and true to all stout yeomen. Methinks I and my friend here might safely guide thee to Robin Hood, for we know where he may be found. Yet I tell thee plainly, we would not for all merry England have aught of harm befall him."

"Set thy mind at ease; I bring nought of ill with me," quoth Richard Partington. "I bring a kind message to him from our Queen, therefore an ye know where he is to be found, I pray you to guide me thither."

Then the two yeomen looked at one another again, and the tall man said, "Surely it were safe to do this thing, Will"; whereat the other nodded. Thereupon both arose, and the tall yeoman said, "We think thou art true, Sir Page, and meanest no harm, therefore we will guide thee to Robin Hood as thou dost wish."

Then Partington paid his score, and the yeomen coming forward, they all straightway departed upon their way.

"Ok, this guy seems chill, let's go".

I like that Pyle specifically states that Partington pays his bar tab. In the source ballad, the yoeman Partington meets remains unnamed, but of course here it's Little John and Will Stutely, Pyle adding a little continuity.

quote:

Under the greenwood tree, in the cool shade that spread all around upon the sward, with flickering lights here and there, Robin Hood and many of his band lay upon the soft green grass, while Allan a Dale sang and played upon his sweetly sounding harp. All listened in silence, for young Allan's singing was one of the greatest joys in all the world to them; but as they so listened there came of a sudden the sound of a horse's feet, and presently Little John and Will Stutely came forth from the forest path into the open glade, young Richard Partington riding between them upon his milk-white horse. The three came toward where Robin Hood sat, all the band staring with might and main, for never had they seen so gay a sight as this young Page, nor one so richly clad in silks and velvets and gold and jewels. Then Robin arose and stepped forth to meet him, and Partington leaped from his horse and doffing his cap of crimson velvet, met Robin as he came. "Now, welcome!" cried Robin. "Now, welcome, fair youth, and tell me, I prythee, what bringeth one of so fair a presence and clad in such noble garb to our poor forest of Sherwood?"

So gay a sight indeed!

At some point, someone's going to do a blazingly homoerotic Robin Hood remake, and it's going to be fabulous.

quote:

Then young Partington said, "If I err not, thou art the famous Robin Hood, and these thy stout band of outlawed yeomen. To thee I bring greetings from our noble Queen Eleanor. Oft hath she heard thee spoken of and thy merry doings hereabouts, and fain would she behold thy face; therefore she bids me tell thee that if thou wilt presently come to London Town, she will do all in her power to guard thee against harm, and will send thee back safe to Sherwood Forest again. Four days hence, in Finsbury Fields, our good King Henry, of great renown, holdeth a grand shooting match, and all the most famous archers of merry England will be thereat. Our Queen would fain see thee strive with these, knowing that if thou wilt come thou wilt, with little doubt, carry off the prize. Therefore she hath sent me with this greeting, and furthermore sends thee, as a sign of great good will, this golden ring from off her own fair thumb, which I give herewith into thy hands."

Huzzah! A Shooting-Match!



quote:


Then Robin Hood bowed his head and taking the ring, kissed it right loyally, and then slipped it upon his little finger. Quoth he, "Sooner would I lose my life than this ring; and ere it departs from me, my hand shall be cold in death or stricken off at the wrist. Fair Sir Page, I will do our Queen's bidding, and will presently hie with thee to London; but, ere we go, I will feast thee here in the woodlands with the very best we have."

"It may not be," said the Page; "we have no time to tarry, therefore get thyself ready straightway; and if there be any of thy band that thou wouldst take with thee, our Queen bids me say that she will make them right welcome likewise."

"Truly, thou art right," quoth Robin, "and we have but short time to stay; therefore I will get me ready presently. I will choose three of my men, only, to go with me, and these three shall be Little John, mine own true right-hand man, Will Scarlet, my cousin, and Allan a Dale, my minstrel. Go, lads, and get ye ready straightway, and we will presently off with all speed that we may. Thou, Will Stutely, shall be the chief of the band while I am gone."


Not even time for feasting? And Robin sure is vowing to protect that ring!

In the versions of this Child (and Pyle) had available to them, Robin Hood chooses "Clifton", Will Scathlock, and Midge the Miller's Son to go with him to see the Queen, leaving "Renett Browne" to watch over Barnsdale in his absence. Pyle reworks those choices, of course, and in smart fashion; the "Forresters Manuscript" discovered in 1993 makes clear that "Clifton" was a pseudonym of Little John all along.

What *I* think is happening here is, Robin is getting drawn into the tradition of Courtly Love . This being Pyle, it's all rather g-rated (in Pyle's Arthur stories, Lancelot and Guinevere is all just a big innocent misunderstanding), but the basic bones of the genre are there: A Noble Lady has asked our Robin to perform a Service, and sent him a Token. Our Hero swears to protect the Token with his life, and drops all other duties to go perform the Service. The only problem is that Robin isn't exactly a knight -- but by the 17th century the tradition of Robin as displaced or exiled nobility was well-established (more on that later) so it wouldn't necessarily have been unusual for this ballad to drop him into that role.

quote:

Then Little John and Will Scarlet and Allan a Dale ran leaping, full of joy, to make themselves ready, while Robin also prepared himself for the journey. After a while they all four came forth, and a right fair sight they made, for Robin was clad in blue from head to foot, and Little John and Will Scarlet in good Lincoln green, and as for Allan a Dale, he was dressed in scarlet from the crown of his head to the toes of his pointed shoes. Each man wore beneath his cap a little head covering of burnished steel set with rivets of gold, and underneath his jerkin a coat of linked mail, as fine as carded wool, yet so tough that no arrow could pierce it. Then, seeing all were ready, young Partington mounted his horse again, and the yeomen having shaken hands all around, the five departed upon their way.

That night they took up their inn in Melton Mowbray, in Leicestershire, and the next night they lodged at Kettering, in Northamptonshire; and the next at Bedford Town; and the next at St. Albans, in Hertfordshire. This place they left not long after the middle of the night, and traveling fast through the tender dawning of the summer day, when the dews lay shining on the meadows and faint mists hung in the dales, when the birds sang their sweetest and the cobwebs beneath the hedges glimmered like fairy cloth of silver, they came at last to the towers and walls of famous London Town, while the morn was still young and all golden toward the east.

Melton Mowbray again! I wonder if Partington sprung for lark pies all around. I bet he tried, but Robin insisted on paying.


quote:

Queen Eleanor sat in her royal bower, through the open casements of which poured the sweet yellow sunshine in great floods of golden light. All about her stood her ladies-in-waiting chatting in low voices, while she herself sat dreamily where the mild air came softly drifting into the room laden with the fresh perfumes of the sweet red roses that bloomed in the great garden beneath the wall. To her came one who said that her page, Richard Partington, and four stout yeomen waited her pleasure in the court below. Then Queen Eleanor arose joyously and bade them be straightway shown into her presence.

Thus Robin Hood and Little John and Will Scarlet and Allan a Dale came before the Queen into her own royal bower. Then Robin kneeled before the Queen with his hands folded upon his breast, saying in simple phrase, "Here am I, Robin Hood. Thou didst bid me come, and lo, I do thy bidding. I give myself to thee as thy true servant, and will do thy commanding, even if it be to the shedding of the last drop of my life's blood."

Again, this sort of pledging is very courtly-love, Arthurian-romance. Pyle's layering it on above and beyond the original ballad; in Katherine, Robin sends *his* mantle of Lincoln Green to the Queen, but that would be an inversion of the courtly-love traditions, so Pyle doesn't include that element here.

quote:

But good Queen Eleanor smiled pleasantly upon him, bidding him to arise. Then she made them all be seated to rest themselves after their long journey. Rich food was brought them and noble wines, and she had her own pages to wait upon the wants of the yeomen. At last, after they had eaten all they could, she began questioning them of their merry adventures. Then they told her all of the lusty doings herein spoken of, and among others that concerning the Bishop of Hereford and Sir Richard of the Lea, and how the Bishop had abided three days in Sherwood Forest. At this, the Queen and the ladies about her laughed again and again, for they pictured to themselves the stout Bishop abiding in the forest and ranging the woods in lusty sport with Robin and his band. Then, when they had told all that they could bring to mind, the Queen asked Allan to sing to her, for his fame as a minstrel had reached even to the court at London Town. So straightway Allan took up his harp in his hand, and, without more asking, touched the strings lightly till they all rang sweetly, then he sang thus:



quote:

"Gentle river, gentle river,
Bright thy crystal waters flow,
Sliding where the aspens shiver,
Gliding where the lilies blow,

"Singing over pebbled shallows,
Kissing blossoms bending low,
Breaking 'neath the dipping swallows,
Purpling where the breezes blow.

"Floating on thy breast forever
Down thy current I could glide;
Grief and pain should reach me never
On thy bright and gentle tide.

"So my aching heart seeks thine, love,
There to find its rest and peace,
For, through loving, bliss is mine, love,
And my many troubles cease."



Thus Allan sang, and as he sang all eyes dwelled upon him and not a sound broke the stillness, and even after he had done the silence hung for a short space. So the time passed till the hour drew nigh for the holding of the great archery match in Finsbury Fields.

And that's a lot of notations, so we'll let Alan-a-Dale's sweet voice close out this post, and we'll draw our curtain here for the day and part it again for the next scene.

Discendo Vox
Mar 21, 2013

We don't need to have that dialogue because it's obvious, trivial, and has already been had a thousand times.
I've only gotten as far as the introduction of Alan a Dale (and thus haven't read the rest of the thread to avoid spoilers), but marking a question, how does the publication date of this story (or Pyle's other work) compare to the release of Pirates of Penzance? I'm thinking specifically of references to Caradoc.

edit: also holy poo poo Rejected of Men: A Story of To-day for botm please

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound

Discendo Vox posted:

I've only gotten as far as the introduction of Alan a Dale (and thus haven't read the rest of the thread to avoid spoilers), but marking a question, how does the publication date of this story (or Pyle's other work) compare to the release of Pirates of Penzance? I'm thinking specifically of references to Caradoc.

edit: also holy poo poo Rejected of Men: A Story of To-day for botm please

Pitates of Penzance appears to be 1879, so four years prior to this. I'm not sure if it had played in America by the time of this publication though.

The repopularization of Arthuriana got rolling with Tennyson, starting in about the 1860's with the beginnings of the Idylls.

Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 14:19 on Sep 8, 2020

Discendo Vox
Mar 21, 2013

We don't need to have that dialogue because it's obvious, trivial, and has already been had a thousand times.

Hieronymous Alloy posted:

In some ballads, yet another version of the character shows up under the name Gandelyn or Gamble Gold (you may have heard one of these, actually, as Child ballad 132, "Robin Hood and the Pedlar", was featured as a tavern song in Assasin's Creed: Black Flag).

Unfortunately this video is private. Also it's extremely unlikely anyone heard this song ingame; Assassin's Creed Black Flag was laid out/designed in such a way that players had little reason to soak in the atmosphere, and I suspect the tavern song selection was done poorly, as you'll only hear one or two songs in any tavern unless you stand there and wait for them to get to new ones (if this is a tavern track with a male singer, I think there's only one tavern with the male singer for all those songs in the game!)

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound

Discendo Vox posted:

Unfortunately this video is private. Also it's extremely unlikely anyone heard this song ingame; Assassin's Creed Black Flag was laid out/designed in such a way that players had little reason to soak in the atmosphere, and I suspect the tavern song selection was done poorly, as you'll only hear one or two songs in any tavern unless you stand there and wait for them to get to new ones (if this is a tavern track with a male singer, I think there's only one tavern with the male singer for all those songs in the game!)

d'oh, it was visible when I made the post!

Instrumental version is still online here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h5wq3td3CLY

I think has the vocal track: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=br3D_Tv3Vow

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound

quote:

A gay sight were famous Finsbury Fields on that bright and sunny morning of lusty summertime. Along the end of the meadow stood the booths for the different bands of archers, for the King's yeomen were divided into companies of fourscore men, and each company had a captain over it; so on the bright greensward stood ten booths of striped canvas, a booth for each band of the royal archers, and at the peak of each fluttered a flag in the mellow air, and the flag was the color that belonged to the captain of each band. From the center booth hung the yellow flag of Tepus, the famous bow bearer of the King; next to it, on one hand, was the blue flag of Gilbert of the White Hand, and on the other the blood- red pennant of stout young Clifton of Buckinghamshire. The seven other archer captains were also men of great renown; among them were Egbert of Kent and William of Southampton; but those first named were most famous of all. The noise of many voices in talk and laughter came from within the booths, and in and out ran the attendants like ants about an ant-hill. Some bore ale and beer, and some bundles of bowstrings or sheaves of arrows. On each side of the archery range were rows upon rows of seats reaching high aloft, and in the center of the north side was a raised dais for the King and Queen, shaded by canvas of gay colors, and hung about with streaming silken pennants of red and blue and green and white. As yet the King and Queen had not come, but all the other benches were full of people, rising head above head high aloft till it made the eye dizzy to look upon them. Eightscore yards distant from the mark from which the archers were to shoot stood ten fair targets, each target marked by a flag of the color belonging to the band that was to shoot thereat. So all was ready for the coming of the King and Queen.

Pyle is doing something really interesting here.

"Gilbert of the White Hand" is traditionally a member of Robin Hood's band, but it's suspected he was primarily a character from the oral tradition, who never really made the jump to the written versions. He's mentioned twice in the Gest, but we don't know much about him, other than that he's the only one in the band whose archery skills match Robin's.

Gilbert does show up in some other Robin Hood fiction; the Dumas version makes him Robin's foster father, and some versions make Gilbert the Sheriff's Cook.

"Clifton" we've already met above -- we know now, because of the Forresters Manuscript discovered in 1993, that "Clifton" is a pseudonym for Little John in this ballad, but when Pyle was writing, good Clifton was just an unknown who suddenly appears as a member of Robin's band for this specific archery contest and is never heard of elsewhere.

So what Pyle's doing here is using Clifton and Gilbert as some "archers of legend" for Robin and his band to shoot against.

"Tepus, bow-bearer to the King" is straight from the ballad text (though in the Forresters Manuscript the name is given alternatively as Tempest). "Bow-bearer" was a real medieval office;

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In Old English law, a Bowbearer was an under-officer of the forest who looked after all manner of trespass on vert or venison, and who attached, or caused to be attached, the offenders, in the feudal Court of Attachment . . . .

Perhaps the most notorious Bowbearer of the Forest of Bowland was Sir Nicholas Tempest, who was executed at Tyburn in 1537. Tempest was one of the northern leaders of the Pilgrimage of Grace, the Catholic uprising against Henry VIII and was linked to Sawley Abbey

So if we go with "Tempest" from the Forresters Manuscript, rather than the "Tepus" in the version Pyle was using, that's another link with Henry VIII for this ballad.

"Egbert of Kent" was king of Kent from 664 to 673.; William of Southhampton was an Earl under Henry VIII.

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At last a great blast of bugles sounded, and into the meadow came riding six trumpeters with silver trumpets, from which hung velvet banners heavy with rich workings of silver and gold thread. Behind these came stout King Henry upon a dapple-gray stallion, with his Queen beside him upon a milk-white palfrey. On either side of them walked the yeomen of the guard, the bright sunlight flashing from the polished blades of the steel halberds they carried. Behind these came the Court in a great crowd, so that presently all the lawn was alive with bright colors, with silk and velvet, with waving plumes and gleaming gold, with flashing jewels and sword hilts; a gallant sight on that bright summer day.

A Dapple-gray stallion:



A milk-white palfrey:



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Then all the people arose and shouted, so that their voices sounded like the storm upon the Cornish coast, when the dark waves run upon the shore and leap and break, surging amid the rocks; so, amid the roaring and the surging of the people, and the waving of scarfs and kerchiefs, the King and Queen came to their place, and, getting down from their horses, mounted the broad stairs that led to the raised platform, and there took their seats on two thrones bedecked with purple silks and cloths of silver and of gold.

When all was quiet a bugle sounded, and straightway the archers came marching in order from their tents. Fortyscore they were in all, as stalwart a band of yeomen as could be found in all the wide world. So they came in orderly fashion and stood in front of the dais where King Henry and his Queen sat. King Henry looked up and down their ranks right proudly, for his heart warmed within him at the sight of such a gallant band of yeomen. Then he bade his herald Sir Hugh de Mowbray stand forth and proclaim the rules governing the game. So Sir Hugh stepped to the edge of the platform and spoke in a loud clear voice, and thus he said:

That each man should shoot seven arrows at the target that belonged to his band, and, of the fourscore yeomen of each band, the three that shot the best should be chosen. These three should shoot three arrows apiece, and the one that shot the best should again be chosen. Then each of these should again shoot three arrows apiece, and the one that shot the best should have the first prize, the one that shot the next best should have the second, and the one that shot the next best should have the third prize. Each of the others should have fourscore silver pennies for his shooting. The first prize was to be twoscore and ten golden pounds, a silver bugle horn inlaid with gold, and a quiver with ten white arrows tipped with gold and feathered with the white swan's-wing therein. The second prize was to be fivescore of the fattest bucks that run on Dallen Lea, to be shot when the yeoman that won them chose. The third prize was to be two tuns of good Rhenish wine.

So Sir Hugh spoke, and when he had done all the archers waved their bows aloft and shouted. Then each band turned and marched in order back to its place.


This is a nice little cinematic scene, and we get the rules of the competition.

Mowbray *was* a noble house in England dating back to the Conquest up till the 1500's or so, but there doesn't seem to have been a "Hugh" of that line, at least not in Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/House_of_Mowbray


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And now the shooting began, the captains first taking stand and speeding their shafts and then making room for the men who shot, each in turn, after them. Two hundred and eighty score shafts were shot in all, and so deftly were they sped that when the shooting was done each target looked like the back of a hedgehog when the farm dog snuffs at it. A long time was taken in this shooting, and when it was over the judges came forward, looked carefully at the targets, and proclaimed in a loud voice which three had shot the best from the separate bands. Then a great hubbub of voices arose, each man among the crowd that looked on calling for his favorite archer. Then ten fresh targets were brought forward, and every sound was hushed as the archers took their places once more.

This time the shooting was more speedily done, for only nine shafts were shot by each band. Not an arrow missed the targets, but in that of Gilbert of the White Hand five arrows were in the small white spot that marked the center; of these five three were sped by Gilbert. Then the judges came forward again, and looking at the targets, called aloud the names of the archer chosen as the best bowman of each band. Of these Gilbert of the White Hand led, for six of the ten arrows he had shot had lodged in the center; but stout Tepus and young Clifton trod close upon his heels; yet the others stood a fair chance for the second or third place.

And now, amid the roaring of the crowd, those ten stout fellows that were left went back to their tents to rest for a while and change their bowstrings, for nought must fail at this next round, and no hand must tremble or eye grow dim because of weariness.

This passage just establishes that Robin's up against some real competition.

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Then while the deep buzz and hum of talking sounded all around like the noise of the wind in the leafy forest, Queen Eleanor turned to the King, and quoth she, "Thinkest thou that these yeomen so chosen are the very best archers in all merry England?"

"Yea, truly," said the King, smiling, for he was well pleased with the sport that he had seen; "and I tell thee, that not only are they the best archers in all merry England, but in all the wide world beside."

Of course the best archers in England are the best archers in the world!

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"But what wouldst thou say," quoth Queen Eleanor, "if I were to find three archers to match the best three yeomen of all thy guard?"

"I would say thou hast done what I could not do," said the King, laughing, "for I tell thee there lives not in all the world three archers to match Tepus and Gilbert and Clifton of Buckinghamshire."

"Now," said the Queen, "I know of three yeomen, and in truth I have seen them not long since, that I would not fear to match against any three that thou canst choose from among all thy fortyscore archers; and, moreover, I will match them here this very day. But I will only match them with thy archers providing that thou wilt grant a free pardon to all that may come in my behalf."

At this, the King laughed loud and long. "Truly," said he, "thou art taking up with strange matters for a queen. If thou wilt bring those three fellows that thou speakest of, I will promise faithfully to give them free pardon for forty days, to come or to go wheresoever they please, nor will I harm a hair of their heads in all that time. Moreover, if these that thou bringest shoot better than my yeomen, man for man, they shall have the prizes for themselves according to their shooting. But as thou hast so taken up of a sudden with sports of this kind, hast thou a mind for a wager?"

"Why, in sooth," said Queen Eleanor, laughing, "I know nought of such matters, but if thou hast a mind to do somewhat in that way, I will strive to pleasure thee. What wilt thou wager upon thy men?"

I'm a Queen! I'm such a GIRL! I don't understand this man stuff!

I kinda hate that line. Especially since Pyle's made this Queen Eleanor . . . that is, Eleanor of Acquitaine, who led armies several times in her life and who held immense wealth and power in her own right, separate from her husband's kingship. She knows what's she's doing. Let's just assume she's smart enough to be playing dumb here to trap the King, and move on.

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Then the merry King laughed again, for he dearly loved goodly jest; so he said, amidst his laughter, "I will wager thee ten tuns of Rhenish wine, ten tuns of the stoutest ale, and tenscore bows of tempered Spanish yew, with quivers and arrows to match."

All that stood around smiled at this, for it seemed a merry wager for a king to give to a queen; but Queen Eleanor bowed her head quietly. "I will take thy wager," said she, "for I know right well where to place those things that thou hast spoken of. Now, who will be on my side in this matter?" And she looked around upon them that stood about; but no one spake or cared to wager upon the Queen's side against such archers as Tepus and Gilbert and Clifton. Then the Queen spoke again, "Now, who will back me in this wager? Wilt thou, my Lord Bishop of Hereford?"

Hey, we know that guy! I'm sure he'd love to back Robin in a bet!

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"Nay," quoth the Bishop hastily, "it ill befits one of my cloth to deal in such matters. Moreover, there are no such archers as His Majesty's in all the world; therefore I would but lose my money.

"Methinks the thought of thy gold weigheth more heavily with thee than the wrong to thy cloth," said the Queen, smiling, and at this a ripple of laughter went around, for everyone knew how fond the Bishop was of his money. Then the Queen turned to a knight who stood near, whose name was Sir Robert Lee. "Wilt thou back me in this manner?" said she. "Thou art surely rich enough to risk so much for the sake of a lady."

"To pleasure my Queen I will do it," said Sir Robert Lee, "but for the sake of no other in all the world would I wager a groat, for no man can stand against Tepus and Gilbert and Clifton."

And we know this guy too! Both the Bishop of Hereford and Sir Richard of the Lee are mentioned in the original Catherine ballad, likely as deliberate references to the Gest. So it's no surprise that Sir Richard steps up and backs the Queen.

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Then turning to the King, Queen Eleanor said, "I want no such aid as Sir Robert giveth me; but against thy wine and beer and stout bows of yew I wager this girdle all set with jewels from around my waist; and surely that is worth more than thine."

Betting her girdle. Hubba-hubba! This bit with the girdle is Pyle's addition; in the ballad, Robin himself bets directly against the Bishop, and Sir Richard bets on behalf of the Queen.

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"Now, I take thy wager," quoth the King. "Send for thy archers straightway. But here come forth the others; let them shoot, and then I will match those that win against all the world."

"So be it," said the Queen. Thereupon, beckoning to young Richard Partington, she whispered something in his ear, and straightway the Page bowed and left the place, crossing the meadow to the other side of the range, where he was presently lost in the crowd. At this, all that stood around whispered to one another, wondering what it all meant, and what three men the Queen was about to set against those famous archers of the King's guard.

And now the ten archers of the King's guard took their stand again, and all the great crowd was hushed to the stillness of death. Slowly and carefully each man shot his shafts, and so deep was the silence that you could hear every arrow rap against the target as it struck it. Then, when the last shaft had sped, a great roar went up; and the shooting, I wot, was well worthy of the sound. Once again Gilbert had lodged three arrows in the white; Tepus came second with two in the white and one in the black ring next to it; but stout Clifton had gone down and Hubert of Suffolk had taken the third place, for, while both those two good yeomen had lodged two in the white, Clifton had lost one shot upon the fourth ring, and Hubert came in with one in the third.

All the archers around Gilbert's booth shouted for joy till their throats were hoarse, tossing their caps aloft, and shaking hands with one another.

poo poo. These guys are good!

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In the midst of all the noise and hubbub five men came walking across the lawn toward the King's pavilion. The first was Richard Partington, and was known to most folk there, but the others were strange to everybody. Beside young Partington walked a yeoman clad in blue, and behind came three others, two in Lincoln green and one in scarlet. This last yeoman carried three stout bows of yew tree, two fancifully inlaid with silver and one with gold. While these five men came walking across the meadow, a messenger came running from the King's booth and summoned Gilbert and Tepus and Hubert to go with him. And now the shouting quickly ceased, for all saw that something unwonted was toward, so the folk stood up in their places and leaned forward to see what was the ado.

When Partington and the others came before the spot where the King and Queen sat, the four yeomen bent their knees and doffed their caps unto her. King Henry leaned far forward and stared at them closely, but the Bishop of Hereford, when he saw their faces, started as though stung by a wasp. He opened his mouth as though about to speak, but, looking up, he saw the Queen gazing at him with a smile upon her lips, so he said nothing, but bit his nether lip, while his face was as red as a cherry.

Then the Queen leaned forward and spake in a clear voice. "Locksley," said she, "I have made a wager with the King that thou and two of thy men can outshoot any three that he can send against you. Wilt thou do thy best for my sake?"

"Yea," quoth Robin Hood, to whom she spake, "I will do my best for thy sake, and, if I fail, I make my vow never to finger bowstring more."

Now, although Little John had been somewhat abashed in the Queen's bower, he felt himself the sturdy fellow he was when the soles of his feet pressed green grass again; so he said boldly, "Now, blessings on thy sweet face, say I. An there lived a man that would not do his best for thee—I will say nought, only I would like to have the cracking of his knave's pate!

"Peace, Little John!" said Robin Hood hastily, in a low voice; but good Queen Eleanor laughed aloud, and a ripple of merriment sounded all over the booth.

Pyle's eye for characterization here -- Little John is rough, but his heart's in the right place.

It's also really interesting that the Queen is calling him "Locksley." In Pyle at least, he's from Locksley town, but his name isn't Locksley; the Queen's form of address here is only appropriate if "Locksley" is his noble title. In the source material for this particular ballad, Robin is a displaced outlawed noble, so use of "Locksley" is at least somewhat appropriate (and has connotations for the Queen's endorsement of his claim to those lands). This may be the one time we've seen Pyle make an American's mistake with this material.

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The Bishop of Hereford did not laugh, neither did the King, but he turned to the Queen, and quoth he, "Who are these men that thou hast brought before us?"

Then up spoke the Bishop hastily, for he could hold his peace no longer: "Your Majesty," quoth he, "yon fellow in blue is a certain outlawed thief of the mid-country, named Robin Hood; yon tall, strapping villain goeth by the name of Little John; the other fellow in green is a certain backsliding gentleman, known as Will Scarlet; the man in red is a rogue of a northern minstrel, named Allan a Dale."

At this speech the King's brows drew together blackly, and he turned to the Queen. "Is this true?" said he sternly.

"Yea," said the Queen, smiling, "the Bishop hath told the truth; and truly he should know them well, for he and two of his friars spent three days in merry sport with Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest. I did little think that the good Bishop would so betray his friends. But bear in mind that thou hast pledged thy promise for the safety of these good yeomen for forty days."

"I will keep my promise," said the King, in a deep voice that showed the anger in his heart, "but when these forty days are gone let this outlaw look to himself, for mayhap things will not go so smoothly with him as he would like." Then he turned to his archers, who stood near the Sherwood yeomen, listening and wondering at all that passed. Quoth he, "Gilbert, and thou, Tepus, and thou, Hubert, I have pledged myself that ye shall shoot against these three fellows. If ye outshoot the knaves I will fill your caps with silver pennies; if ye fail ye shall lose your prizes that ye have won so fairly, and they go to them that shoot against you, man to man. Do your best, lads, and if ye win this bout ye shall be glad of it to the last days of your life. Go, now, and get you gone to the butts."

Y'know, didn't they already win those prizes? Isn't the King kinda being a dick to say they'll lose them if they can't beat Robin? Robin and his men aren't actually in the official Tourney . . . kinda looks like this King is going back on his word a bit. Ruh-roh.

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Then the three archers of the King turned and went back to their booths, and Robin and his men went to their places at the mark from which they were to shoot. Then they strung their bows and made themselves ready, looking over their quivers of arrows, and picking out the roundest and the best feathered.

But when the King's archers went to their tents, they told their friends all that had passed, and how that these four men were the famous Robin Hood and three of his band, to wit, Little John, Will Scarlet, and Allan a Dale. The news of this buzzed around among the archers in the booths, for there was not a man there that had not heard of these great mid-country yeomen. From the archers the news was taken up by the crowd that looked on at the shooting, so that at last everybody stood up, craning their necks to catch sight of the famous outlaws.

Six fresh targets were now set up, one for each man that was to shoot; whereupon Gilbert and Tepus and Hubert came straightway forth from the booths. Then Robin Hood and Gilbert of the White Hand tossed a farthing aloft to see who should lead in the shooting, and the lot fell to Gilbert's side; thereupon he called upon Hubert of Suffolk to lead.

Hubert took his place, planted his foot firmly, and fitted a fair, smooth arrow; then, breathing upon his fingertips, he drew the string slowly and carefully. The arrow sped true, and lodged in the white; again he shot, and again he hit the clout; a third shaft he sped, but this time failed of the center, and but struck the black, yet not more than a finger's-breadth from the white. At this a shout went up, for it was the best shooting that Hubert had yet done that day.

Merry Robin laughed, and quoth he, "Thou wilt have an ill time bettering that round, Will, for it is thy turn next. Brace thy thews, lad, and bring not shame upon Sherwood."

Then Will Scarlet took his place; but, because of overcaution, he spoiled his target with the very first arrow that he sped, for he hit the next ring to the black, the second from the center. At this Robin bit his lips. "Lad, lad," quoth he, "hold not the string so long! Have I not often told thee what Gaffer Swanthold sayeth, that 'overcaution spilleth the milk'?" To this Will Scarlet took heed, so the next arrow he shot lodged fairly in the center ring; again he shot, and again he smote the center; but, for all that, stout Hubert had outshot him, and showed the better target. Then all those that looked on clapped their hands for joy because that Hubert had overcome the stranger.

I like how Robin doesn't tell Will to "win," but to "bring not shame upon Sherwood." Just do your best! And Will just isn't that great an archer, because he's younger and new to the band.

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Quoth the King grimly, to the Queen, "If thy archers shoot no better than that, thou art like to lose thy wager, lady." But Queen Eleanor smiled, for she looked for better things from Robin Hood and Little John.

And now Tepus took his place to shoot. He, also, took overheed to what he was about, and so he fell into Will Scarlet's error. The first arrow he struck into the center ring, but the second missed its mark, and smote the black; the last arrow was tipped with luck, for it smote the very center of the clout, upon the black spot that marked it. Quoth Robin Hood, "That is the sweetest shot that hath been sped this day; but, nevertheless, friend Tepus, thy cake is burned, methinks. Little John, it is thy turn next."

So Little John took his place as bidden, and shot his three arrows quickly. He never lowered his bow arm in all the shooting, but fitted each shaft with his longbow raised; yet all three of his arrows smote the center within easy distance of the black. At this no sound of shouting was heard, for, although it was the best shooting that had been done that day, the folk of London Town did not like to see the stout Tepus overcome by a fellow from the countryside, even were he as famous as Little John.

Little John ain't losin to no town scrub.

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And now stout Gilbert of the White Hand took his place and shot with the greatest care; and again, for the third time in one day, he struck all three shafts into the clout.

"Well done, Gilbert!" quoth Robin Hood, smiting him upon the shoulder. "I make my vow, thou art one of the best archers that ever mine eyes beheld. Thou shouldst be a free and merry ranger like us, lad, for thou art better fitted for the greenwood than for the cobblestones and gray walls of London Town." So saying, he took his place, and drew a fair, round arrow from his quiver, which he turned over and over ere he fitted it to his bowstring.

This is, as above, a sly reference, since traditionally Gilbert is a member of the band. Maybe after this he defects off-screen?

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Then the King muttered in his beard, "Now, blessed Saint Hubert, if thou wilt but jog that rogue's elbow so as to make him smite even the second ring, I will give eightscore waxen candles three fingers'-breadth in thickness to thy chapel nigh Matching." But it may be Saint Hubert's ears were stuffed with tow, for he seemed not to hear the King's prayer this day.

Saint Hubert is the patron saint of hunters; importantly, he is a French, that is, Norman, *not* Saxon, saint. Of course, historically, King Henry II *was* Norman, spoke French not English, and half his kingdom was in modern France; still, so far, all our heroes swear by Saxon saints.

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Having gotten three shafts to his liking, merry Robin looked carefully to his bowstring ere he shot. "Yea," quoth he to Gilbert, who stood nigh him to watch his shooting, "thou shouldst pay us a visit at merry Sherwood." Here he drew the bowstring to his ear. "In London"—here he loosed his shaft—"thou canst find nought to shoot at but rooks and daws; there one can tickle the ribs of the noblest stags in England." So he shot even while he talked, yet the shaft lodged not more than half an inch from the very center.

"By my soul!" cried Gilbert. "Art thou the devil in blue, to shoot in that wise?"

"Nay," quoth Robin, laughing, "not quite so ill as that, I trust." And he took up another shaft and fitted it to the string. Again he shot, and again he smote his arrow close beside the center; a third time he loosed his bowstring and dropped his arrow just betwixt the other two and into the very center, so that the feathers of all three were ruffled together, seeming from a distance to be one thick shaft.

Robin makin' it look easy. And talkin' smack while he does it.

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And now a low murmur ran all among that great crowd, for never before had London seen such shooting as this; and never again would it see it after Robin Hood's day had gone. All saw that the King's archers were fairly beaten, and stout Gilbert clapped his palm to Robin's, owning that he could never hope to draw such a bowstring as Robin Hood or Little John. But the King, full of wrath, would not have it so, though he knew in his mind that his men could not stand against those fellows. "Nay!" cried he, clenching his hands upon the arms of his seat, "Gilbert is not yet beaten! Did he not strike the clout thrice? Although I have lost my wager, he hath not yet lost the first prize. They shall shoot again, and still again, till either he or that knave Robin Hood cometh off the best. Go thou, Sir Hugh, and bid them shoot another round, and another, until one or the other is overcome." Then Sir Hugh, seeing how wroth the King was, said never a word, but went straightway to do his bidding; so he came to where Robin Hood and the other stood, and told them what the King had said.

"With all my heart," quoth merry Robin, "I will shoot from this time till tomorrow day if it can pleasure my most gracious lord and King. Take thy place, Gilbert lad, and shoot."

So Gilbert took his place once more, but this time he failed, for, a sudden little wind arising, his shaft missed the center ring, but by not more than the breadth of a barley straw.

"Thy eggs are cracked, Gilbert," quoth Robin, laughing; and straightway he loosed a shaft, and once more smote the white circle of the center.

Robin, Lord of Smack. I like how he keeps calling Gilbert "Lad." How old is Robin at this point? Still in his twenties?

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Then the King arose from his place, and not a word said he, but he looked around with a baleful look, and it would have been an ill day for anyone that he saw with a joyous or a merry look upon his face. Then he and his Queen and all the court left the place, but the King's heart was brimming full of wrath.

After the King had gone, all the yeomen of the archer guard came crowding around Robin, and Little John, and Will, and Allan, to snatch a look at these famous fellows from the mid-country; and with them came many that had been onlookers at the sport, for the same purpose. Thus it happened presently that the yeomen, to whom Gilbert stood talking, were all surrounded by a crowd of people that formed a ring about them.

After a while the three judges that had the giving away of the prizes came forward, and the chief of them all spake to Robin and said, "According to agreement, the first prize belongeth rightly to thee; so here I give thee the silver bugle, here the quiver of ten golden arrows, and here a purse of twoscore and ten golden pounds." And as he spake he handed those things to Robin, and then turned to Little John. "To thee," he said, "belongeth the second prize, to wit, fivescore of the finest harts that run on Dallen Lea. Thou mayest shoot them whensoever thou dost list." Last of all he turned to stout Hubert. "Thou," said he, "hast held thine own against the yeomen with whom thou didst shoot, and so thou hast kept the prize duly thine, to wit, two tuns of good Rhenish wine. These shall be delivered to thee whensoever thou dost list." Then he called upon the other seven of the King's archers who had last shot, and gave each fourscore silver pennies.

Then up spake Robin, and quoth he, "This silver bugle I keep in honor of this shooting match; but thou, Gilbert, art the best archer of all the King's guard, and to thee I freely give this purse of gold. Take it, man, and would it were ten times as much, for thou art a right yeoman, good and true. Furthermore, to each of the ten that last shot I give one of these golden shafts apiece. Keep them always by you, so that ye may tell your grandchildren, an ye are ever blessed with them, that ye are the very stoutest yeomen in all the wide world."

At this all shouted aloud, for it pleased them to hear Robin speak so of them.

Then up spake Little John. "Good friend Tepus," said he, "I want not those harts of Dallen Lea that yon stout judge spoke of but now, for in truth we have enow and more than enow in our own country. Twoscore and ten I give to thee for thine own shooting, and five I give to each band for their pleasure."

At this another great shout went up, and many tossed their caps aloft, and swore among themselves that no better fellows ever walked the sod than Robin Hood and his stout yeomen.


And Robin and Little John redeem the King's shaky dealings with their generosity.

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While they so shouted with loud voices, a tall burly yeoman of the King's guard came forward and plucked Robin by the sleeve. "Good master," quoth he, "I have somewhat to tell thee in thine ear; a silly thing, God wot, for one stout yeoman to tell another; but a young peacock of a page, one Richard Partington, was seeking thee without avail in the crowd, and, not being able to find thee, told me that he bore a message to thee from a certain lady that thou wottest of. This message he bade me tell thee privily, word for word, and thus it was. Let me see—I trust I have forgot it not—yea, thus it was: 'The lion growls. Beware thy head.'"

"Is it so?" quoth Robin, starting; for he knew right well that it was the Queen sent the message, and that she spake of the King's wrath. "Now, I thank thee, good fellow, for thou hast done me greater service than thou knowest of this day." Then he called his three yeomen together and told them privately that they had best be jogging, as it was like to be ill for them so nigh merry London Town. So, without tarrying longer, they made their way through the crowd until they had come out from the press. Then, without stopping, they left London Town and started away northward.


And they're off! Next: Chase Scene!

Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 22:01 on Sep 12, 2020

Hieronymous Alloy
Jan 30, 2009


Why! Why!! Why must you refuse to accept that Dr. Hieronymous Alloy's Genetically Enhanced Cream Corn Is Superior to the Leading Brand on the Market!?!




Morbid Hound

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On 13 September 2007, during the filming of a jousting reenactment for a special episode of Time Team, a splinter from a balsa wood lance went through the eye-slit in the helmet of one of the participants and entered his eye socket. 54-year-old Paul Anthony Allen, a member of a re-enactment society, died a week later in hospital.[12] Channel 4 stated that the programme would be shown, but without the re-enactment sequence. The episode, dedicated to Allen, was transmitted on 25 February 2008.


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Time_Team

Sad story of course, but I thought it was really interesting that this is, virtually word for word, the *exact* injury that Sir Richard of the Lea's son inflicted on his jousting opponent.

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Genghis Cohen
Jun 29, 2013

Hieronymous Alloy posted:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Time_Team

Sad story of course, but I thought it was really interesting that this is, virtually word for word, the *exact* injury that Sir Richard of the Lea's son inflicted on his jousting opponent.

Known to happen in medieval times too - one of the French kings died that way, whilst celebrating the recapture of Calais with a tournament.

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