---

Скачать книгу

---

of my body," burst forth Little John, 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 Will Scarlet. "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 Allan hotly, "thou dost wrong her. She is as soft and gentle as a stockdove. 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, Robin Hood 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 Allan eagerly.

      "Then, if her father be the man 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 a man there and back in one day."

      "Then give me thy hand, Allan," cried Robin, "and let me tell thee, I swear by the bright hair of Saint AElfrida 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. Allan laughed with the rest, for his cheeks were flushed with the hope that Robin Hood had given him.

      At last the feast was done, and Robin Hood turned to Allan, who sat 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 Allan readily; for he was no third-rate songster that must be asked again and again, but said "yes" or "no" at the first bidding; so, taking up his harp, he ran his fingers lightly over the sweetly sounding strings, and all was hushed about the cloth. Then, backing his voice with sweet music on his harp, he 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.'

      

---

Скачать книгу