As he spoke the Sheriff’s ruddy cheeks grew
pale, and he said nothing more but looked upon the
ground and gnawed his nether lip. Then slowly
he drew forth his fat purse and threw it upon the cloth
in front of him.
“Now take the purse, Little John,” quoth
Robin Hood, “and see that the reckoning be right.
We would not doubt our Sheriff, but he might not like
it if he should find he had not paid his full score.”
Then Little John counted the money and found that
the bag held three hundred pounds in silver and gold.
But to the Sheriff it seemed as if every clink of
the bright money was a drop of blood from his veins.
And when he saw it all counted out in a heap of silver
and gold, filling a wooden platter, he turned away
and silently mounted his horse.
“Never have we had so worshipful a guest before!”
quoth Robin, “and, as the day waxeth late, I
will send one of my young men to guide thee out of
the forest depths.”
“Nay, Heaven forbid!” cried the Sheriff
hastily. “I can find mine own way, good
man, without aid.”
“Then I will put thee on the right track mine
own self,” quoth Robin, and, taking the Sheriff’s
horse by the bridle rein, he led him into the main
forest path. Then, before he let him go, he said,
“Now, fare thee well, good Sheriff, and when
next thou thinkest to despoil some poor prodigal,
remember thy feast in Sherwood Forest. ’Ne’er
buy a horse, good friend, without first looking into
its mouth,’ as our good gaffer Swanthold says.
And so, once more, fare thee well.” Then
he clapped his hand to the horse’s back, and
off went nag and Sheriff through the forest glades.
Then bitterly the Sheriff rued the day that first
he meddled with Robin Hood, for all men laughed at
him and many ballads were sung by folk throughout
the country, of how the Sheriff went to shear and came
home shorn to the very quick. For thus men sometimes
overreach themselves through greed and guile.
Spring had gone since the Sheriff’s
feast in Sherwood, and summer also, and the mellow
month of October had come. All the air was cool
and fresh; the harvests were gathered home, the young
birds were full fledged, the hops were plucked, and
apples were ripe. But though time had so smoothed
things over that men no longer talked of the horned
beasts that the Sheriff wished to buy, he was still
sore about the matter and could not bear to hear Robin
Hood’s name spoken in his presence.
With October had come the time for holding the great
Fair which was celebrated every five years at Nottingham
Town, to which folk came from far and near throughout
the country. At such times archery was always
the main sport of the day, for the Nottinghamshire
yeomen were the best hand at the longbow in all merry
England, but this year the Sheriff hesitated a long
time before he issued proclamation of the Fair, fearing
