Prologue: How Robert o' Locksley Became Robin Hood
Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's characters from the 1973 Robin Hood or Howard Pyle's words or story from his classic, The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood. Also, the original concept for this fanfiction belongs to retromania. I envisioned this fanfic as a retelling such as Pride and Prejudice and Zombies or Pride and Prejudice and Kitties, wherein the wording and story of the original classic is kept intact, but with a twist. However, I did create the prologue, excepting Robin Hood's run-in with the rangers in the forest and his meeting with Little John.
Allan a Dale is my name. Thou hast heard of my reputation as a minstrel and wouldst hear me sing? Surely I can answer thy request. Though it be far from my usual ballads, I will play a tune of Robin Hood. I knew him once, and he hath been oft in my thoughts. Let me begin with when he was Robert o' Locksley.
I heard that, when he was a young fox kit, he chanced to meet Maid Marian. It was late August, a cool day, the Sun shrouded by clouds. Locksley Town was abustle. Dogs and horses, cats and goats crowded the main road. Nay, they did not heed the merchants with their wares or the innkeepers at their taverns. For the royal carriage was approaching.
A sleek fox of a yeoman and his fair wife clasped tight to their kits' paws. "Where is she, Mother? I can't see her!" cried their little daughter, Sable.
"Patience," replied the mother with a smile. "Thou wilst find her soon, I warrant."
"Can thou seest her, Father? Is she pretty?" asked Sable, whereupon her father bent for her to scramble onto his back.
"I daresay so," quoth the yeoman, "as thy mother was at that age."
The mother pressed her paw to her face. "Oh, do not flatter me so. 'Tis truly a shame she lost her father so young."
"Aye, though methinks her uncle and the Queen shall take right good care of her," replied the father.
Their elder kit, Robert, called Robin, paid no mind to the conversation. Rather, he pressed forward through the crowd.
"Robin, mind thyself," called his father.
"I want to see better," replied the kit. However, a large hippopotamus stepped before his family, blocking them from sight. Robin faltered. Yet on drove the carriage, and he turned towards it.
Several stout elephants wheeled the carriage by a stone's throw from Robin. The curtains over the windows were drawn aside. Within, Queen Eleanor, a somber-seeming lioness; Richard, her regal son; and Maid Marian, a long-lashed fox kit, reposed. All donned black.
Thou knowest how the Queen adopted Prince Geoffrey, who became Duke of Brittany. He had been a fox and father of Marian. And, may God keep him, he died not long ago at tournament, leaving his brother Richard and his mother to care for Marian. They wished to keep her secure, so, to that end, they set out now for the castle at Nottingham Town.
Poor Marian lifted her handkerchief to her eyes. A perverse wind blew it from her paw, and she began to cry harder. Robin's fur rose in alarm. Shifting paws and hooves trod over the handkerchief. Scrambling after it, Robin was almost crushed 'neath an elephant's foot. At last, he snatched the handkerchief. Fairly running to meet the carriage, he held it towards Marian. Plucking it from him, she dabbed at her eyes. "Thank thee."
"Don't cry anymore," said Robin.
"I'll try," answered she bravely.
The Queen leaned forward to address Robin. "What art thou called, brave yeoman?"
"Robin of Locksley." He made to stand taller.
"Why, Robin of Locksley, for thine assistance to my granddaughter, thou mayest visit Nottingham Castle any day thou pleasest," quoth Queen Eleanor.
"Every day. I'll come every day!" Robin began to fall behind the carriage, for he could keep pace no longer.
"There's a stout fellow if mine eyes ever beheld one," quoth Prince Richard.
As the carriage continued on, Marian waved farewell to Robin. He waved vigorously in turn.
Robin strove mighty hard to keep his promise. Nigh every day he, his parents, and Sable traversed near Sherwood Forest to Nottingham Castle. On this particular day, his parents had given him a bow, it being eighth August, his birthday. The sun winked in and out 'tween the clouds. The lush trees round the forest offered many a shooting target. Robin slowed often to test his bow.
"Be careful," quoth his father. "Thou art aiming it rather too high."
"I'm trying to strike the pine cone," answered Robin. His arm straining, he drew the bow back. The arrow shot well past the pine cone dangling from the nearby fir and lodged in the tree. "I'll get it," said he. Though he scrambled to climb the tree, the lowest branch proved too high to climb.
"Do let me help thee, my son," quoth his mother. Lacing her fingers, she bent to offer him a foot hold. Once securely on the lowest limb, the kit clambered from branch to branch. At last, he reached the arrow. Leaning forward, he plucked it from the leaves and cast it down. Then he returned as he came.
"Let me try! Let me try!" cried Sable. "I want to shoot!"
"Here, Sable." Her brother offered her the bow, which she struggled with more than he. Her arrow far missed the pine and landed in the grass.
"Thou shouldst aim higher," quoth their mother. Sable pouted.
Returning the arrow to Robin, their father motioned his family onwards. "We must not keep Maid Marian waiting."
On they traversed. Sable commented upon the melodies of the birds and the greyness of the sky. Robin raced ahead. In due time, the castle loomed before them. Elephants kept their guard on the castle wall 'tween the minarets, the standards snapping in the wind. The gate was lifted, allowing them to proceed to Marian's courtyard.
"Oh, Robin!" Setting down her book, she hurried to them. Her head scarf swished behind her.
"Look at my new bow!" Eagerly Robin held it out for her to view.
"Ooh de lally!" She clapped her paws. "It's quite lovely!"
"Dost thou want to try it?"
"Aye, I would!" As she took it from him, he rubbed his paws in anticipation.
"Careful, there, lassie." Lady Kluck, Marian's lady-in-waiting, waddled over, lifting her skirt hem. "I would fain shoot better than thee many a day."
"Klucky, I don't believe thee wouldst," quoth Marian with a smile. Taking aim at an apple on a tree, she loosed the arrow. Alas, she had little experience with a bow. The arrow sailed past the tree and through an open window.
"We'll be in trouble." Sable hid her face in her paws.
"Mine uncle John is visiting," quoth Marian. "His chamber is through that window. He'll be ever so upset."
"Don't worry," quoth Robin. "We can climb through the window and get it before he sees."
"Mayhap he shall catch sight of ye," quoth their father. "And ye shall have a right hard time of it." Sable nodded vigorously.
"Go ahead," countered their mother, "and we shall provide distraction if he comes."
Thus, Robin waved Marian and Sable to the window. "Stand on my shoulders, Marian, and Sable can climb up and through the window."
With Robin's aid, Marian climbed onto his shoulders and reached for Sable; she almost fell forward. "Robin, I don't like this."
"Marian, hold on to me," quoth Sable. Marian lifted Sable into the air. "Almost there," quoth Sable. The youngest kit scrabbled at the window ledge.
"I can't keep hold." Robin strained under the weight.
"I'm in," said Sable, her tail disappearing through the window. Marian again overbalanced. She and Robin toppled to the ground.
"Ye look like two sweethearts," quoth Lady Kluck, coming over.
Marian gazed at Robin wide-eyed, and he wrinkled his nose. "Nay, methinks not," quoth he.
"Nor I," said she. Hastily they separated.
"I found it!" cried Sable from within Prince John's chamber.
"Wonderful," replied Marian. "Comest to the window. We'll help thee down."
However, a yowl rent the air, as if from an injured feline. "Mother!" cried Prince John. "A fox is in my room! A fox! Mother, help!" Sable chirped in alarm.
"Not Prince John." Robin's paws curled in fists.
"He can't hurt her," quoth Marian. "He can't."
Footsteps scurried to the courtyard door, and Prince John entered, carrying Sable by her scruff. "Whose kit is this?" demanded the lion. "What was she doing in my chamber?"
"If thou wouldst, release my daughter." Sable's mother straightened. "Thou hast affrighted her." She spoke with such firmness that Prince John immediately dropped Sable, who ran to her father. He embraced her.
"Mayhap thou shalt find an arrow lodged right well in thy foot next time," quoth the father. In response, the prince began to whimper and gnaw on his thumb.
"What is this commotion?" None other than Prince Richard himself strode into the courtyard, tailed by Queen Eleanor.
"Your Highness, Your Majesty." The mother curtsied and explained the predicament.
Upon her finishing, Queen Eleanor turned to Prince John. "I am most disappointed that thou hast treated our guests so poorly."
"Mother!" cried Prince John, who began to wail.
Robin, Marian, and Sable attempted, not entirely successfully, to smother their laughter.
Many days such as this passed cheerfully and well. The sun's course shortened, and the moon's reign lengthened. A year ran by, until the day when Lady Fortune set her wheel in motion. Robin had made great progress in shooting; all who witnessed him declared him one of the finest archers in England. One day, bow in paw, he sauntered towards Nottingham Castle and whistled. His new feathered cap was askew on his head. He had not a care but the sweet birdsong in the forest.
When he reached Marian's courtyard, Marian herself rushed to greet him. "Robin, thou lookest quite jaunty," quoth she, embracing him. He laughed and held her near. "With thy cap, thou mayest be called Robin Hood."
"Robin Hood. I do like it." Taking his dagger, he commenced carving into the trunk of a certain apple tree. "I shall write our intials here, and we shall forever remember our time together." He stepped away. "RH" and "MM" were entwined by a heart. Marian smiled but rapidly grew somber.
"I do hope that we shall not forget," quoth she. "I cannot stay here much longer."
"Marian, what dost thou mean?" He grasped her forepaws.
"I must go to London. Uncle Richard and Grandmother think it best I should be nearer them since they have returned to court there. I meant to tell thee sooner, but I could not." She leaned towards him as if in expectation.
"I promise by the North Star I shan't forget thee," quoth he. "I shall come as often as I may."
"But London is quite far away." She stepped away, her shoulders wilting. "Much farther than here."
"I shall fly there if I can find no other way." He spread his arms wide. "The distance means naught to me."
Then she smiled slightly. "Thou art too sweet."
Alas that Robin could not keep his promise. On his return, he encountered royal rangers on the road by the forest; three there were in all, two weasels and a wolf, making themselves merry with feasting and drinking as they sat around a huge pasty, to which each animal helped himself, thrusting his hands into the pie, and washing down that which they ate with great tankards of ale which they drew all foaming from a barrel that stood nigh. Each man was clad in Lincoln green, and a fine show they made, seated upon the sward beneath that fair, spreading tree. Then the wolf, the nephew of the Sheriff of Nottingham, called out to Robin, "Hulloa, where goest thou, little lad, with thy one-penny bow and thy farthing shafts?"
Then the fox grew angry, for no stripling likes to be taunted with his green years.
"Now," quoth he, "my bow and eke mine arrows are as good as shine."
Then one of the weasels, who held a horn of ale in his hand said, "Ho! Why, thou art scarce more than a kit, and scarce able to draw one string of a two-stone bow."
"I'll hold the best of you twenty marks," quoth foxy Robin, "that I hit the clout at threescore rods, by the good help of Our Lady fair."
At this all laughed aloud, and the other weasel said, "Well boasted, thou fair infant, well boasted! And well thou knowest that no target is nigh to make good thy wager."
At this Robin grew right mad. "Hark ye," said he, "with the aid of Our Lady, I wager I can shoot better than thee at a wand threescore rods distant."
"Now done!" cried the wolf. "And I wager that thou cannot hit such a mark, with or without the aid of Our Lady."
Outraged, Robin snapped a limb from a nearby tree and whittled it with his dagger to no bigger than his thumb and no longer than his arm. This he set threescore rods away. Then Robin took his good yew bow in his hand, and placing the tip at his instep, he strung it right deftly; then he nocked a broad clothyard arrow and, raising the bow, drew the feather to his ear; the next moment the bowstring rang and the arrow sped down the glade as a sparrowhawk skims in a northern wind. It split the wand in half down the middle.
"Ha!" cried Robin, "how likest thou that shot, good fellow? I wot the wager were mine, an it were three hundred pounds."
Then all the foresters were filled with rage, and he who had spoken the first and had lost the wager was more angry than all.
Of a sudden, without any warning, he sprang to his feet, and seized upon his bow and fitted it to a shaft. "Ay," cried he, "and thou shalt not live to tell of it." And he sent the arrow whistling after Robin.
It was well for Robin that that same forester's head was spinning with ale, or else he would never have taken another step. As it was, the arrow whistled within three inches of his head. Then he turned around and quickly drew his own bow, and sent an arrow back in return.
"Ye said I was no archer," cried he aloud, "but say so now again!"
The shaft flew straight; the wolf fell forward with a cry, and lay on his face upon the ground, his arrows rattling about him from out of his quiver. "It cannot be," cried Robin. "Dear Lady, please let him not be dead." As if in answer to his prayer, the wolf stirred.
Then, before the others could gather their wits about them, Robin Hood was gone into the depths of the greenwood. The weasels remained behind to lift the wolf up and bear him away to Nottingham Town to see a doctor.
Meanwhile Robin ran through the greenwood. Gone was all the joy and brightness from everything, for his heart was sick within him, and it was borne in upon his soul that he had almost slain an animal.
"Alas!" cried he, "had the arrow struck a finger's breadth differently, I would have killed him! I cannot show myself in Locksley Town. The Sheriff will have me outlawed. Marian, I'm sorry I cannot see thee more." And then, even in his trouble, he remembered the old saw that "What is done is done; and the egg cracked cannot be cured."
It came as he guessed. The Sheriff, for the injury to his nephew, brought the case before King Henry, who declared Robin an outlaw and set a bounty of a thousand pounds on his head. Ever anon, the Sheriff swore not to rest until he had avenged himself on Robin.
News shortly reached Marian. She sank onto the bed in her chamber, clutching a wanted poster of Robin and sighing. "Klucky, what am I to do? He cannot come here for fear of capture. I cannot go to him without being charged with sympathizing with an outlaw. Grandfather will not hear my pleas. What can I do?"
Lady Kluck looked up from her knitting needles. "Cheer up, Marian. It does not do thee good to worry. He would not want that."
Marian shook her head. "What if he forgets me? Wherever he is, he'll be so focused on hiding, he will not think of me."
At her words, Lady Kluck set her needles aside. "Marian, methinks he shall come back and take thee with him. As they say, love conquers all."
Marian smiled faintly at Robin's likeness on the poster. "I would that he would."
Robin's family also grew concerned when he did not return at his appointed time; as the news reached them of his outlawed status, concern grew to fear. Sable scarcely touched her food. Nudging the food around her plate, she soon gave up. "Sable," quoth her father. "Thou needst eat. Thou wilt grow sickly."
"What will they do to him?" She smacked her paws on the table. "What if they find him? They'll take him to prison, and kill him, and..."
Her mother shook her head. "We must have faith that he can survive. He hath been always a keen fox, and a good paw at a bow. The Sheriff cannot outfox our Robin." Sable gnawed at her lower lip.
"If it consoles thee," quoth her father, wrapping his forearm around her, "we are right worried, as well. We shall do as we can to right this. Until that time, we must trust him, as thy mother said so well."
Sniffling, Sable sat aright. "Aye. Nobody's faster than Big Brother."
And so Robin came to dwell in the greenwood that was to be his home for many a year to come, never again to see the happy days with the lads and lasses of sweet Locksley Town. He fixed a camp in a clearing; a clothesline he made of the branches of trees, a table from a fallen oak, and he rested within a shelter constructed of bark from the same tree. The greenwood provided all the nuts, berries, and grass he could desire.
He had not lived in this way for more than a few days when he decided he needed pots and pans for cooking. So he struck out on a forest road; mayhap he could meet a tinker or peddler on the way.
He strode away through the leafy forest glades until he had come to the verge of Sherwood. There he wandered for a long time, through highway and byway, through dingly dell and forest skirts. Now he met a fair buxom lass in a shady lane, and each gave the other a merry word and passed their way; now he saw a fair lady, to whom he doffed his cap, and who bowed sedately in return; now he saw a fat monk; now a gallant knight, with spear and shield and armor that flashed brightly in the sunlight; now a page clad in crimson; and now a stout burgher from good Nottingham Town, pacing along with serious footsteps; all these sights he saw, but a peddler found he none. At last he took a road by the forest skirts, a bypath that dipped toward a broad, pebbly stream spanned by a narrow bridge made of a log of wood. As he drew nigh this bridge he saw a tall bear coming from the other side. Thereupon the fox quickened his pace, as did the stranger likewise, each thinking to cross first.
"Now stand thou back," quoth Robin, "and let the better animal cross first."
"Nay," answered the bear, "then stand back shine own self, for the better animal, I wot, am I."
"That will we presently see," quoth Robin, "and meanwhile stand thou where thou art, or else, by the bright brow of Saint Ælfrida, I will show thee right good Nottingham play."
"Now," quoth the stranger, "I will tan thy hide till it be as many colors as a beggar's cloak, if thou darest so much as touch a string of that same bow that thou holdest in thy hands."
"Tsk, tsk," said Robin, "I could send this shaft clean through thy cap before a curtal friar could say grace over a roast goose at Michaelmastide."
"Thou art a coward," answered the bear, "for thou standest there with a good yew bow to shoot at my heart, while I have nought in my hand but a plain blackthorn staff wherewith to meet thee."
"Now," quoth Robin, "by the faith of my heart, never have I had a coward's name in all my life before. I will lay by my trusty bow and eke my arrows, and if thou darest abide my coming, I will go and cut a cudgel."
"Ay, marry, that will I abide thy coming, and joyously, too," quoth the stranger; whereupon he leaned sturdily upon his staff to await Robin.
Then Robin stepped quickly to the coverside and cut a good staff of ground oak, straight, without new, and six feet in length, and came back trimming away the tender stems from it, while the stranger waited for him, leaning upon his staff, and whistling as he gazed round about. Robin observed him furtively as he trimmed his staff, measuring him from top to toe from out the corner of his eye, and thought that he had never seen a lustier or a stouter animal. Tall was Robin, but taller was the stranger by a head. Broad was Robin across the shoulders, but broader was the stranger by thrice a forepaw.
"Nevertheless," said Robin to himself, "I will baste thy hide right merrily, my good fellow"; then, aloud, "Lo, here is my good staff, lusty and tough. Now wait my coming, an thou darest, and meet me an thou fearest not. Then we will fight until one or the other of us tumble into the stream by dint of blows."
"Marry, that meeteth my whole heart!" cried the stranger, twirling his staff above his head, betwixt his fingers and thumb, until it whistled again.
In a moment Robin stepped quickly upon the bridge where the stranger stood; first he made a feint, and then delivered a blow at the stranger's head that, had it met its mark, would have tumbled him speedily into the water. But the bear turned the blow right deftly and in return gave one as stout, which the fox also turned as the bear had done. So they stood, each in his place, neither moving a finger's-breadth back, for one good hour, and many blows were given and received by each in that time, till here and there were sore bones and bumps, yet neither thought of crying "Enough," nor seemed likely to fall from off the bridge. Now and then they stopped to rest, and each thought that he never had seen in all his life before such a paw at quarterstaff. At last Robin gave the stranger a blow upon the ribs that made his jacket smoke like a damp straw thatch in the sun. So shrewd was the stroke that the stranger came within a hair's-breadth of falling off the bridge, but he regained himself right quickly and, by a dexterous blow, gave Robin a crack on the crown that caused the blood to flow. Then Robin grew mad with anger and smote with all his might at the other. But the stranger warded the blow and once again thwacked Robin, and this time so fairly that he fell heels over head into the water, as the queen pin falls in a game of bowls.
"And where art thou now, my good kit?" shouted the stranger, roaring with laughter.
"Oh, in the flood and floating adown with the tide," cried Robin, nor could he forbear laughing himself at his sorry plight. Then, gaining his feet, he waded to the bank, the little fish speeding hither and thither, all frightened at his splashing.
"Give me thy paw," cried he, when he had reached the bank. "I must needs own thou art a brave and a sturdy soul and, withal, a good stout stroke with the cudgels. By this and by that, my head hummeth like to a hive of bees on a hot June day."
"And thou," quoth the stranger, laughing, "takest thy cudgeling like a brave heart and a stout yeoman."
"Now hark ye, good youth, wilt thou stay with me?" asked Robin. "Three suits of Lincoln green shalt thou have each year, beside forty marks in fee. We shall feast in the greenwood those who take from the poor for their own gain and levy a fee for the inn we run, to return to the poor, and no female or child shall we harm. Mine own good right-paw animal shalt thou be, for never did I see such a cudgel player in all my life before. Speak! Wilt thou be my right-paw animal?"
"That know I not," quoth the stranger surlily. "If ye handle yew bow and apple shaft no better than ye do oaken cudgel, I wot ye are not fit to be called yeoman in my country; but if thou canst shoot a better shaft than I, then will I bethink me of joining with you."
"Now by my faith," said Robin, "thou art a right saucy varlet, sirrah; yet I will stoop to thee as I never stooped before." Then he cut a fair white piece of bark four fingers in breadth and set it fourscore yards distant on yonder oak. "Now, stranger, hit that fairly with a gray goose shaft and call thyself an archer."
"Ay, marry, that will I," answered he. "Give me a good stout bow and a fair broad arrow, and if I hit it not, strip me and beat me blue with bowstrings."
Then he chose the stoutest bow among them all, next to Robin's own, and a straight shaft, well-feathered and smooth, and stepping to the mark—while the fox rested upon the greensward and watched to see him shoot—he drew the arrow to his cheek and loosed the shaft right deftly, sending it so straight down the path that it clove the mark in the very center. "Aha!" cried he, "mend thou that if thou canst."
"That is a keen shot indeed," quoth Robin. "Mend it I cannot, but mar it I may, perhaps."
Then taking up his own good stout bow and nocking an arrow with care, he shot with his very greatest skill. Straight flew the arrow, and so true that it lit fairly upon the stranger's shaft and split it into splinters.
"Now by the lusty yew bow of good Saint Withold," cried the bear, "that is a shot indeed, and never saw I the like in all my life before! Now truly will I be thy animal henceforth and for aye."
"Then have I gained a right good man this day," quoth foxy Robin. "What name goest thou by, good fellow?"
"Animals call me John Little whence I came," answered the stranger.
"I like not thy name and fain would I have it otherwise. Little art thou indeed, and small of bone and sinew, therefore shalt thou be Little John," said Robin, laughing.
"An thou make a jest of me," quoth the bear, "thou wilt have sore bones and little pay, and that in short season."
"Nay, good friend," said Robin Hood, "bottle thine anger, for the name fitteth thee well. Little John shall thou be called henceforth, and Little John shall it be."
"Fine, if it must be so," relented Little John. "What name do others know thee by?"
"Robin Hood," answered the fox, for no longer could he call himself Robin of Locksley.
"Well, Robin Hood, I guess 'tis to the forest for us," said the bear. And so the two of them sauntered into the greenwood.
And thus it was that Robin Hood became outlawed; thus he gained his right-paw animal, Little John; thus they agreed to rob the rich for the poor, who praised them in speech and song; and so the prologue ends. And now I will tell how they met their first merry adventure.