Read Online The Chronicles of Robin Hood by Rosemary Sutcliff - Free Book Online

huge outlaw, both men swung into the saddle, and the knight, after bending down to wring Robin’s hand and thank him for his kindness, was already riding away when he checked his horse and looked back.
    ‘I have borrowed four hundred pounds from you and forgotten even to tell you my name. I am Sir Richard-at-Lea.’
    ‘You are Our Lady’s messenger, and that is enough for me,’ called back Robin. And so, with many shouted farewells ringing behind them, Little John and Sir Richard rode away.
    Next morning the Lord Abbot of St. Mary’s Abbey sat before the high table in his Great Hall, with his guests and his senior brethren around him. There was roast beef before him, boiled ham and greasy pie, and all manner of rich wines; and he ate loudly and greedily, with an appetite that was even larger than usual, for he was in a high good humour. Presently he wiped greasy lips and spoke to the prior—a lean, pale-faced man who sat among the brethren farther down the table.
    ‘Twelve months ago we lent four hundred pounds to a needy knight, Brother Julian, and if he does not come to repay it by noon to-day he loses all his possessions, and we shall be the richer by a fat estate! Our Lady grant he is not able to keep his tryst!’
    ‘The good knight may be ill, or overseas,’ said the prior, indignantly, ‘and it would be a foul wrong to declare his lands forfeit!’
    ‘No, no!’ replied the abbot, and he laughed fatly. ‘This was the day agreed upon, and he does not come; therefore his lands are ours.’
    But Brother Julian cried out: ‘You dare not take his lands until noon, for that also was agreed upon. Shame on you, to ruin a good knight who never harmed you. If I had the money I would pay it—gladly—on his behalf.’
    Then the abbot flew into a passion and drummed with his fists on the table, while his brow grew black. ‘The devil fly away with you and your conscience!’ he shouted. ‘You are for ever crossing me. But I have the Lord Chief Justice here to declare my legal right.’ And he pointed to a stately, bleak-faced individual sitting among the guests at his table.
    At that moment the tapestry hangings over the doorway were pulled aside and in came the cellarer, an elderly man, bloated of body, and red of nose from overmuch tasting of the sack and malmsey wine in his charge, who shambled, grinning, to his place at table, full of mealy-mouthed congratulations for the abbot. ‘For,’ said he, ‘the knight is surely sick or dead, and
we
shall have the spending of four hundred pounds a year!’
    Hardly were the words out of his mouth than the rich hangings were once again drawn aside and in the opening appeared a scared-looking porter, who announced: ‘My Lord Abbot, Sir Richard-at-Lea is here, and craves a word with you.’ And he disappeared again before the wrath and disappointment of the prelate could vent itself on his head.
    Sir Richard came humbly into the hall and made his salutation to the abbot and his guests—some of whom had once been his friends. The abbot greeted him coldly, and many of the guests did not return his salutation at all. Sir Richard looked round at them bitterly, and he thoughtto himself that he would test them, to see if there was even one among them who would remember that he had been his friend in the days of his prosperity.
    ‘My Lord Abbot,’ he said, ‘I have come to keep my appointment.’
    The abbot nodded insolently. ‘Have you brought the money to pay your debt?’
    ‘No, I have not brought it.’
    ‘Pledge me in malmsey, Sir Justice!’ cried the abbot with a brutal laugh. ‘For the land is mine!’ Then, turning back to the knight: ‘Why have you come if you have not the gold with you?’
    ‘To beg you, of your mercy, to grant me a little longer time in which to repay my debt.’
    ‘Not a day! Not an hour!’ replied the abbot, gloatingly. ‘You have broken your pledge and your land is forfeit!’
    Then Sir Richard dropped on one knee and turned to the