Read Online The Chronicles of Robin Hood by Rosemary Sutcliff - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rosemary Sutcliff
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his loan; and it is in mymind that I would like to take him a gift beside. You are wiser in such things than I, dear wife. What do you advise?’
The lady thought for a little while and then she said: ‘If it were me, I would take him a hundred bows of red Spanish yew and a hundred sheaves of arrows flighted with peacock feathers.’
So Sir Richard gathered together the bows and the sheaves of arrows, and with two men to see to the train of pack-horses, he set out.
Riding at the head of his little troop he came, early the following morning, into a large village; and here, on the village green, the whole population had gathered to watch a midsummer wrestling bout.
A white charger was tethered under a tall mulberry tree at one side of the green. A pipe of wine stood close beside it, with a pair of embroidered gloves laid across the top, and hanging from a forked hazel twig Sir Richard caught the glitter of a gold ring.
‘It must be about between two famous champions,’ he thought, ‘judging by the richness of the prize,’ and because he had ever loved the sport of wrestling, he reined in his horse on the outskirts of the crowd, to watch. The two seemed well matched, and Sir Richard’s face was alight with interest as he followed every movement of the wrestlers as they sought for the holds they wanted; but one of the men was tiring, his holds were less sure, and suddenly there was a shout from the people, and the victor staggered to his feet.
Sir Richard looked about him, and was surprised to see black looks and clenched fists that contrasted ill with the gay holiday garments of the people. Turning to a tallfellow beside him, he asked the meaning of this, and was told that the champion was a stranger and had therefore no right to win the prize.
‘That seems hardly fair,’ said Sir Richard, gently. ‘He has won the prize by vanquishing his opponent fairly, and it is his, be he never so many times a stranger.’ And he urged his horse forward through the crowd into the open turf of the prize-ring to the side of the stranger-champion, who stood staring about him in bewilderment.
The mob shouted angrily, and pressed forward around the knight and the wrestler; but the two men in charge of the pack-horses thrust their way through to their master’s side, and at the sight of their resolute faces the hot resentment of the village people began to cool away. In a little while the whole crowd was quiet.
Then Sir Richard turned to the wrestler, saying kindly: ‘Take your prize, lad.’
The man looked up at him for a moment, then his young, troubled face broadened into a grin, and pulling his forelock with a ‘Thank ’ee, sir,’ he turned to take the bridle of the white horse. As he did so, the knight took a gold piece from his wallet, and called after him: ‘Ho, lad! Will you sell me your pipe of wine?’
The wrestler looked back, laughing. ‘Willingly, Master—I would sooner have its worth in money than a clumsy pipe of wine to carry along with me.’
So the gold piece and the pipe of wine changed hands, and no sooner was it done than Sir Richard called to the gaping crowd: ‘See, good folks, here is a pipe of wine; broach it, and make merry, with my blessing.’ And he touched his heel against his horse’s flank, urging it forward.
The people parted to let him and his men through. Their dark looks were lightened, some of them called out a rough ‘thank-you’ after him, and a red-nosed old fellow, who looked as though he had broached many pipes in his time, struck up a song and began to jig up and down in the dusty highway. As he rode away, Sir Richard knew that the village was in a holiday mood.
He was now very late for his tryst, but he thought Robin would forgive him when he heard the cause of the delay, and so he rode on, blithely enough.
Meanwhile, Robin was waiting patiently enough in the Stane Ley. But noon came and went, and presently he began to look worried and to watch the far end of the glade,
The lady thought for a little while and then she said: ‘If it were me, I would take him a hundred bows of red Spanish yew and a hundred sheaves of arrows flighted with peacock feathers.’
So Sir Richard gathered together the bows and the sheaves of arrows, and with two men to see to the train of pack-horses, he set out.
Riding at the head of his little troop he came, early the following morning, into a large village; and here, on the village green, the whole population had gathered to watch a midsummer wrestling bout.
A white charger was tethered under a tall mulberry tree at one side of the green. A pipe of wine stood close beside it, with a pair of embroidered gloves laid across the top, and hanging from a forked hazel twig Sir Richard caught the glitter of a gold ring.
‘It must be about between two famous champions,’ he thought, ‘judging by the richness of the prize,’ and because he had ever loved the sport of wrestling, he reined in his horse on the outskirts of the crowd, to watch. The two seemed well matched, and Sir Richard’s face was alight with interest as he followed every movement of the wrestlers as they sought for the holds they wanted; but one of the men was tiring, his holds were less sure, and suddenly there was a shout from the people, and the victor staggered to his feet.
Sir Richard looked about him, and was surprised to see black looks and clenched fists that contrasted ill with the gay holiday garments of the people. Turning to a tallfellow beside him, he asked the meaning of this, and was told that the champion was a stranger and had therefore no right to win the prize.
‘That seems hardly fair,’ said Sir Richard, gently. ‘He has won the prize by vanquishing his opponent fairly, and it is his, be he never so many times a stranger.’ And he urged his horse forward through the crowd into the open turf of the prize-ring to the side of the stranger-champion, who stood staring about him in bewilderment.
The mob shouted angrily, and pressed forward around the knight and the wrestler; but the two men in charge of the pack-horses thrust their way through to their master’s side, and at the sight of their resolute faces the hot resentment of the village people began to cool away. In a little while the whole crowd was quiet.
Then Sir Richard turned to the wrestler, saying kindly: ‘Take your prize, lad.’
The man looked up at him for a moment, then his young, troubled face broadened into a grin, and pulling his forelock with a ‘Thank ’ee, sir,’ he turned to take the bridle of the white horse. As he did so, the knight took a gold piece from his wallet, and called after him: ‘Ho, lad! Will you sell me your pipe of wine?’
The wrestler looked back, laughing. ‘Willingly, Master—I would sooner have its worth in money than a clumsy pipe of wine to carry along with me.’
So the gold piece and the pipe of wine changed hands, and no sooner was it done than Sir Richard called to the gaping crowd: ‘See, good folks, here is a pipe of wine; broach it, and make merry, with my blessing.’ And he touched his heel against his horse’s flank, urging it forward.
The people parted to let him and his men through. Their dark looks were lightened, some of them called out a rough ‘thank-you’ after him, and a red-nosed old fellow, who looked as though he had broached many pipes in his time, struck up a song and began to jig up and down in the dusty highway. As he rode away, Sir Richard knew that the village was in a holiday mood.
He was now very late for his tryst, but he thought Robin would forgive him when he heard the cause of the delay, and so he rode on, blithely enough.
Meanwhile, Robin was waiting patiently enough in the Stane Ley. But noon came and went, and presently he began to look worried and to watch the far end of the glade,
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