Part Four
Chapter One: Robin Hood and Allan a Dale
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.
It has just been told how three unlucky adventures fell upon Robin Hood and Little John all in one day bringing them sore ribs and aching bones. So next we will tell how they made up for those ill happenings by a good action that came about not without some small pain to Robin.
Two days had passed by, and somewhat of the soreness had passed away from Robin Hood's joints, yet still, when he moved of a sudden and without thinking, pain here and there would, as it were, jog him, crying, "Thou hast had a drubbing, good fellow."
The day was bright and jocund, and the morning dew still lay upon the grass. Under the greenwood tree sat Robin Hood; on one side was Will Scarlet, lying at full length upon his back, gazing up into the clear sky, with hands clasped behind his head; upon the other side sat Little John, fashioning a cudgel out of a stout crab-tree limb; elsewhere upon the grass sat or lay others of the band.
"By the faith of my heart," quoth foxy Robin, "I do bethink me that we have had no one to dine with us for this long time. Our money groweth low in the purse, for no one hath come to pay a reckoning for many a day. Now busk thee, good Will Scarlet, and get thee gone to Fosse Way or thereabouts with the band, and see that thou bringest someone to eat with us this evening. Meantime we will prepare a grand feast to do whosoever may come the greater honor."
"Now do I thank thee, good uncle," quoth the fox kit, springing to his feet, "that thou hast chosen me for this adventure. Truly, my limbs do grow slack through abiding idly here. I will choose Much the Miller and Arthur a Bland, for, as well thou knowest, good master, they are stout fists at the quarterstaff. Is it not so, Little John?"
At this all laughed but the bear and the older fox, who twisted up his face. "I can speak for Much," said he. "This very blessed morn I looked at my ribs and found them as many colors as a beggar's cloak."
So, having chosen a few more stout fellows, Will Scarlet and his band set forth to Fosse Way, to find whether they might not come across some rich guest to feast that day in Sherwood with Robin and his band.
For all the livelong day they abided near this highway. Each animal had brought with him a good store of cold pasties and a bottle of stout March beer to stay his stomach till the homecoming. So when high noontide had come they sat them down upon the soft grass, beneath a green and wide- spreading hawthorn bush, and held a hearty and jovial feast. After this, one kept watch while the others napped, for it was a still and sultry day.
Thus they passed the time pleasantly enow, but no guest such as they desired showed his face in all the time that they lay hidden there. Many passed along the dusty road in the glare of the sun: now it was a bevy of chattering damsels merrily tripping along; now it was a plodding tinker; now a merry shepherd collie; now a sturdy farmer; all gazing ahead along the road, unconscious of the seven stout fellows that lay hidden so near them. Such were the travelers along the way; but fat abbot, rich esquire, or money-laden usurer came there none.
At last the sun began to sink low in the heavens; the light grew red and the shadows long. The air grew full of silence, the birds twittered sleepily, and from afar came, faint and clear, the musical song of the milkmaid calling the kine home to the milking.
Then the fox kit arose from where he was lying. "A plague of such ill luck!" quoth he. "Here have we abided all day, and no bird worth the shooting, so to speak, hath come within reach of our bolt. Had I gone forth on an innocent errand, I had met a dozen stout priests or a score of pursy money-lenders. But it is ever thus. Come, lads, let us pack up and home again, say I."
Accordingly, the others arose, and, coming forth from out the thicket, they all turned their toes back again to Sherwood. After they had gone some distance, Will Scarlet, who headed the party, suddenly stopped. "Hist!" quoth he. "Hark, lads! Methinks I hear a sound." At this all stopped and listened with bated breath, albeit for a time they could hear nothing, their ears being duller than the kit's. At length they heard a faint and melancholy sound, like someone in lamentation.
Continued Will Scarlet, "this must be looked into. There is someone in distress nigh to us here."
"I know not," quoth Much, shaking his head doubtfully, "Robin is rash about thrusting his finger into a boiling pot; but, for my part, I see no use in getting ourselves into mischievous coils. Yon is a cock's voice, if I mistake not, and a cock should be always ready to get himself out from his own pothers."
Then out spake Will Scarlet boldly. "Now out upon thee, to talk in that manner, Much! Stay, if thou dost list. I go to see what may be the trouble of this poor creature."
"Nay," quoth the pit bull, "thou dost leap so quickly, thou'lt tumble into the ditch. Who said I would not go? Come along, say I." Thus saying, he led the way, the others following, till, after they had gone a short distance, they came to a little opening in the woodland, whence a brook, after gurgling out from under the tangle of overhanging bushes, spread out into a broad and glassy-pebbled pool. By the side of this pool, and beneath the branches of a willow, I lay, upon my face, weeping aloud, the sound of which had first caught the quick ears of Will Scarlet. My clothes were all awry, and everything about me, I must say, betokened sorrow and woe. Over my head, from the branches of the osier, hung a beautiful lute of polished wood inlaid with gold and silver in fantastic devices. Beside me lay a stout ashen bow and half a score of fair, smooth arrows.
"Halloa!" shouted Will Scarlet, when they had come out from the forest into the little open spot. "Who art thou, fellow, that liest there killing all the green grass with salt water?"
Hearing the voice, I sprang to my feet and; snatching up my bow and fitting a shaft, held myself in readiness for whatever ill might befall me.
"Truly," said one of the yeomen, when they had seen my face, "I do know that lad right well. He is a certain minstrel that I have seen hereabouts more than once. It was only a week ago I saw him skipping across the hill like a young cock. A fine sight he was then, with a flower at his ear and a plume stuck in his cap; but now, methinks, our cockerel is shorn of his gay feathers."
"Pah!" cried Arthur, coming up to me, "wipe thine eyes, cock! I do hate to see a tall, stout fellow so sniveling like a girl of fourteen over a dead tomtit. Put down thy bow! We mean thee no harm."
But the kit, seeing how I was stung by the words that the buck had spoken, came to him and put his hand upon the youth's shoulder. "Nay, thou art in trouble, poor boy!" said he kindly. "Mind not what these fellows have said. They are rough, but they mean thee well. Mayhap they do not understand a lad like thee. Thou shalt come with us, and perchance we may find a certain one that can aid thee in thy perplexities, whatsoever they may be."
"Yea, truly, come along," said the buck gruffly. "I meant thee no harm, and may mean thee some good. Take down thy singing tool from off this fair tree, and away with us."
I did as I was bidden and, with bowed head and sorrowful step, accompanied the others, walking beside Will Scarlet. So we wended their way through the forest. The bright light faded from the sky and a glimmering gray fell over all things. From the deeper recesses of the forest the strange whispering sounds of night-time came to the ear; all else was silent, saving only for the rattling of their footsteps amid the crisp, dry leaves of the last winter. At last a ruddy glow shone before them here and there through the trees; a little farther and they came to the open glade, now bathed in the pale moonlight. In the center of the open crackled a great fire, throwing a red glow on all around. At the fire were fresh oat cakes and vegetable stew. All the air was filled with the sweet smell of good things cooking.
The little band made its way across the glade, many yeomen turning with curious looks and gazing after them, but none speaking or questioning them. So, with Will Scarlet upon one side, I came to where Robin Hood sat on a seat of moss under the greenwood tree, with Little John standing beside him.
"Good even, fair friend," said the fox, rising as the other drew near. "And hast thou come to feast with me this day?"
"Alas! I know not," said I, looking around me with dazed eyes, for I was bewildered with all that I saw. "Truly, I know not whether I be in a dream," said I to myself in a low voice.
"Nay, marry," quoth Robin, laughing, "thou art awake, as thou wilt presently find, for a fine feast is a-cooking for thee. Thou art our honored guest this day."
Still I looked about me, as though in a dream. Presently I turned to Robin. "Methinks," said I, "I know now where I am and what hath befallen me. Art not thou the great Robin Hood?"
"Thou hast hit the bull's eye," quoth Robin, clapping me upon the shoulder. "Animals hereabouts do call me by that name. Sin' thou knowest me, thou knowest also that he who feasteth with me must pay his reckoning. I trust thou hast a full purse with thee, fair stranger."
"Alas!" said I, "I have no purse nor no money either, saving only the half of a sixpence, the other half of which mine own dear love doth carry in her bosom, hung about her neck by a strand of silken thread."
At this speech a great shout of laughter went up from those around, whereat I felt as though I would die of shame; but Robin Hood turned sharply to Will Scarlet. "Why, how now," quoth he, "is this the guest that thou hast brought us to fill our purse? Methinks thou hast brought but a lean cock here."
Then up spoke Will Scarlet, and told how they had found me in sorrow, and how he had brought me to Robin, thinking that he might perchance aid me in my trouble. Then Robin Hood turned to me, and, placing his hand upon my shoulder, held me off at arm's length, scanning my face closely.
"A young face," quoth he in a low voice, half to himself, "a kind face, a good face. 'Tis like a maiden's for purity, and, withal, the fairest that e'er mine eyes did see; but, if I may judge fairly by thy looks, grief cometh to young as well as to old." At these words, spoken so kindly, the my eyes brimmed up with tears. "Nay, nay," said the fox hastily, "cheer up, lad; I warrant thy case is not so bad that it cannot be mended. What may be thy name?"
"Allan a Dale is my name."
"Alan a Dale," repeated Robin, musing. "Allan a Dale. It doth seem to me that the name is not altogether strange to mine ears. Yea, surely thou art the minstrel of whom we have been hearing lately, whose voice so charmeth all animals. Dost thou not come from the Dale of Rotherstream, over beyond Stavely?"
"Yea, truly," answered I, "I do come thence."
"Methinks thou art overyoung to be perplexed with trouble," quoth Robin kindly; then, turning to the others, he cried, "Come, lads, busk ye and get our feast ready; only thou, Will Scarlet, and thou, Little John, stay here with me."
Then, when the others had gone, each animal about his business, Robin turned once more to me. "Now, lad," said he, "tell us thy troubles, and speak freely. A flow of words doth ever ease the heart of sorrows; it is like opening the waste weir when the mill dam is overfull. Come, sit thou here beside me, and speak at thine ease."
Then straightway I told the three yeomen all that was in my heart; at first in broken words and phrases, then freely and with greater ease when all listened closely to what I said. So I told them how I had come from York to the sweet vale of Rother, traveling the country through as a minstrel, stopping now at castle, now at hall, and now at farmhouse; how I had spent one sweet evening in a certain broad, low farmhouse, where I sang before a stout franklin and a maiden as pure and lovely as the first snowdrop of spring; how I had played and sung to her, and how sweet Ellen o' the Dale had listened to me and had loved me. Then, in a low, sweet voice, scarcely louder than a whisper, I told how I had watched for her and met her now and then when she went abroad, but was all too afraid in her sweet presence to speak to her, until at last, beside the banks of Rother, I had spoken of my love, and she had whispered that which had made my heartstrings quiver for joy. Then we broke a sixpence between us, and vowed to be true to one another forever.
Next I told how her father had discovered what was a-doing, and had taken her away from me so that I never saw her again, and my heart was sometimes like to break; how this morn, only one short month and a half from the time that I had seen her last, I had heard and knew it to be so, that she was to marry old Sir Stephen of Trent, two days hence, for Ellen's father thought it would be a grand thing to have his daughter marry so high, albeit she wished it not; nor was it wonder that a knight should wish to marry his own sweet love, who was the most beautiful maiden in all the world.
To all this the yeomen listened in silence, the clatter of many voices, jesting and laughing, sounding around them, and the red light of the fire shining on their faces and in their eyes. A certain knotty lump rose even in Little John's throat.
"I wonder not," said Robin, after a moment's silence, "that thy true love loved thee, for thou hast surely a silver cross beneath thy tongue, even like good Saint Francis, that could charm the birds of the air by his speech."
"By the breath of my body," burst forth the bear, seeking to cover his feelings with angry words, "I have a great part of a mind to go straightway and cudgel the nasty life out of the body of that same vile Sir Stephen. Marry, come up, say I—what a plague—does an old weazen think that tender lasses are to be bought like pullets o' a market day? Out upon him!—I—but no matter, only let him look to himself."
Then up spoke the fox kit. "Methinks it seemeth but ill done of the lass that she should so quickly change at others' bidding, more especially when it cometh to the marrying of a man as old as this same Sir Stephen. I like it not in her, Allan."
"Nay," said I hotly, "thou dost wrong her. She is as soft and gentle as a stockdove, though she be a hen. I know her better than anyone in all the world. She may do her father's bidding, but if she marries Sir Stephen, her heart will break and she will die. My own sweet dear, I—" He stopped and shook his head, for he could say nothing further.
While the others were speaking, the elder fox had been sunk in thought. "Methinks I have a plan might fit thy case, Allan," said he. "But tell me first, thinkest thou, lad, that thy true love hath spirit enough to marry thee were ye together in church, the banns published, and the priest found, even were her father to say her nay?"
"Ay, marry would she," cried I eagerly.
"Then, if her father be the animal that I take him to be, I will undertake that he shall give you both his blessing as wedded man and wife, in the place of old Sir Stephen, and upon his wedding morn. But stay, now I bethink me, there is one thing reckoned not upon—the priest. Truly, those of the cloth do not love me overmuch, and when it comes to doing as I desire in such a matter, they are as like as not to prove stiff- necked. As to the lesser clergy, they fear to do me a favor because of abbot or bishop."
"Nay," quoth Will Scarlet, laughing, "so far as that goeth, I know of a certain friar that, couldst thou but get on the soft side of him, would do thy business even though Pope Joan herself stood forth to ban him. He is known as the Curtal Friar of Fountain Abbey, and dwelleth in Fountain Dale."
"But," quoth Robin, "Fountain Abbey is a good hundred miles from here. An we would help this lad, we have no time to go thither and back before his true love will be married. Nought is to be gained there, coz."
"Yea," quoth Will Scarlet, laughing again, "but this Fountain Abbey is not so far away as the one of which thou speakest, uncle. The Fountain Abbey of which I speak is no such rich and proud place as the other, but a simple little cell; yet, withal, as cosy a spot as ever stout anchorite dwelled within. I know the place well, and can guide thee thither, for, though it is a goodly distance, yet methinks a stout pair of legs could carry an animal there and back in one day."
"Then give me thy wing, Allan," cried Robin, "and let me tell thee, I swear by the bright hair of Saint Ælfrida that this time two days hence Ellen a Dale shall be thy wife. I will seek this same Friar of Fountain Abbey tomorrow day, and I warrant I will get upon the soft side of him, even if I have to drub one soft."
At this Will Scarlet laughed again. "Be not too sure of that, good uncle," quoth he, "nevertheless, from what I know of him, I think this Curtal Friar will gladly join two such fair lovers, more especially if there be good eating and drinking afoot thereafter."
But now one of the band came to say that the feast was spread upon the grass; so, Robin leading the way, the others followed to where the goodly feast was spread. Merry was the meal. Jest and story passed freely, and all laughed till the forest rang again. I laughed with the rest, for I had the hope that Robin Hood had given me.
At last the feast was done, and Robin Hood turned to me, sitting beside him. "Now, Allan," quoth he, "so much has been said of thy singing that we would fain have a taste of thy skill ourselves. Canst thou not give us something?"
"Surely," answered I readily; so, taking up my lute, I ran my feathers lightly over the sweetly sounding strings, and all was hushed about the cloth. Then, backing my voice with sweet music on my harp, I sang:
MAY ELLEN'S WEDDING
(Giving an account of how she was beloved by a fairy prince, who took her to his own home.)
"May Ellen sat beneath a thorn
And in a shower around
The blossoms fell at every breeze
Like snow upon the ground,
And in a lime tree near was heard
The sweet song of a strange, wild bird.
"O sweet, sweet, sweet, O piercing sweet,
O lingering sweet the strain!
May Ellen's heart within her breast
Stood still with blissful pain:
And so, with listening, upturned face,
She sat as dead in that fair place.
"'Come down from out the blossoms, bird!
Come down from out the tree,
And on my heart I'll let thee lie,
And love thee tenderly!'
Thus cried May Ellen, soft and low,
From where the hawthorn shed its snow.
"Down dropped the bird on quivering wing,
From out the blossoming tree,
And nestled in her snowy breast.
'My love! my love!' cried she;
Then straightway home, 'mid sun and flower,
She bare him to her own sweet bower.
"The day hath passed to mellow night,
The moon floats o'er the lea,
And in its solemn, pallid light
A youth stands silently:
A youth of beauty strange and rare,
Within May Ellen's bower there.
"He stood where o'er the pavement cold
The glimmering moonbeams lay.
May Ellen gazed with wide, scared eyes,
Nor could she turn away,
For, as in mystic dreams we see
A spirit, stood he silently.
"All in a low and breathless voice,
'Whence comest thou?' said she;
'Art thou the creature of a dream,
Or a vision that I see?'
Then soft spake he, as night winds shiver
Through straining reeds beside the river.
"'I came, a bird on feathered wing,
From distant Faeryland
Where murmuring waters softly sing
Upon the golden strand,
Where sweet trees are forever green;
And there my mother is the queen.'
. . . . . . .
"No more May Ellen leaves her bower
To grace the blossoms fair;
But in the hushed and midnight hour
They hear her talking there,
Or, when the moon is shining white,
They hear her singing through the night.
"'Oh, don thy silks and jewels fine,'
May Ellen's mother said,
'For hither comes the Lord of Lyne
And thou this lord must wed.'
May Ellen said, 'It may not be.
He ne'er shall find his wife in me.'
"Up spoke her brother, dark and grim:
'Now by the bright blue sky,
E'er yet a day hath gone for him
Thy wicked bird shall die!
For he hath wrought thee bitter harm,
By some strange art or cunning charm.'
"Then, with a sad and mournful song,
Away the bird did fly,
And o'er the castle eaves, and through
The gray and windy sky.
'Come forth!' then cried the brother grim,
'Why dost thou gaze so after him?'
"It is May Ellen's wedding day,
The sky is blue and fair,
And many a lord and lady gay
In church are gathered there.
The bridegroom was Sir Hugh the Bold,
All clad in silk and cloth of gold.
"In came the bride in samite white
With a white wreath on her head;
Her eyes were fixed with a glassy look,
Her face was as the dead,
And when she stood among the throng,
She sang a wild and wondrous song.
"Then came a strange and rushing sound
Like the coming wind doth bring,
And in the open windows shot
Nine swans on whistling wing,
And high above the heads they flew,
In gleaming fight the darkness through.
"Around May Ellen's head they flew
In wide and windy fight,
And three times round the circle drew.
The guests shrank in affright,
And the priest beside the altar there,
Did cross himself with muttered prayer.
"But the third time they flew around,
Fair Ellen straight was gone,
And in her place, upon the ground,
There stood a snow-white swan.
Then, with a wild and lovely song,
It joined the swift and winged throng.
"There's ancient animals at weddings been,
For sixty years and more,
But such a wondrous wedding day,
They never saw before.
But none could check and none could stay,
The swans that bore the bride away."
Not a sound broke the stillness when I had done, but all sat gazing at me with bated breath, as if one drop more should come and he should lose it.
"By my faith and my troth," quoth Robin at last, drawing a deep breath, "lad, thou art—Thou must not leave our company, Allan! Wilt thou not stay with us here in the sweet green forest? Truly, I do feel my heart go out toward thee with great love."
Then I took Robin's paw and kissed it. "I will stay with thee always, dear master," said he, "for never have I known such kindness as thou hast shown me this day."
Then Will Scarlet stretched forth his paw and shook my wing in token of fellowship, as did Little John likewise. And thus I became one of Robin Hood's band.