"I am enjoined to bring you," said the youth. "If
persuasion avail not,
I must use other argument."
"Say'st thou so?" said the
knight; "I doubt if thy stripling rhetoric
would
convince me."
"That," said the young
forester, "we will see."
"We are not
equally matched, boy," said the
knight.
"I should get less honour by thy
conquest, than grief
by thy
injury."
"Perhaps," said the youth, "my strength is more than my seeming,
and my
cunning more than my strength. Therefore let it please
your
knighthood to dismount."
"It shall please my
knighthood to
chastise thy presumption,"
said the
knight, springing from his saddle.
Hereupon, which in those days was usually the result of a meeting
between any two persons
anywhere, they proceeded to fight.
The
knight had in an
uncommon degree both strength and skill:
the
forester had less strength, but not less skill than the
knight,
and showed such a
mastery of his
weapon as reduced the latter
to great admiration.
They had not fought many minutes by the forest clock, the sun;
and had as yet done each other no worse
injury than that
the
knight had wounded the
forester's jerkin, and the
foresterhad disabled the
knight's plume; when they were interrupted
by a voice from a
thicket, exclaiming, "Well fought, girl:
well fought. Mass, that had nigh been a
shrewd hit.
Thou owest him for that, lass. Marry, stand by, I'll pay
him for thee."
The
knight turning to the voice,
beheld a tall friar issuing from the
thicket,
brandishing a
ponderous cudgel.
"Who art thou?" said the
knight.
"I am the church militant of Sherwood," answered the friar.
"Why art thou in arms against our lady queen?"
"What meanest thou?" said the
knight.
"Truly, this," said the friar, "is our liege lady of the forest,
against whom I do
apprehend thee in overt act of treason.
What sayest thou for thyself?"
"I say," answered the
knight, "that if this be indeed a lady,
man never yet held me so long."
"Spoken," said the friar, "like one who hath done execution.
Hast thou thy
stomach full of steel? Wilt thou diversify thy repast
with a taste of my oak-graff? Or wilt thou
incline thine heart
to our
venison which truly is cooling? Wilt thou fight? or wilt thou
dine? or wilt thou fight and dine? or wilt thou dine and fight?
I am for thee, choose as thou mayest."
"I will dine," said the
knight; "for with lady I never fought before,
and with friar I never fought yet, and with neither will I ever
fight
knowingly: and if this be the queen of the forest, I will not,
being in her own dominions, be
backward to do her homage."
So
saying, he kissed the hand of Marian, who was pleased most graciously
to express her approbation.
"Gramercy, sir
knight," said the friar, "I laud thee for
thy
courtesy, which I deem to be no less than thy valour.
Now do thou follow me, while I follow my nose, which scents
the pleasant odour of roast from the depth of the forest recesses.
I will lead thy horse, and do thou lead my lady."
The
knight took Marian's hand, and followed the friar, who walked
before them, singing:
When the wind blows, when the wind blows
From where under buck the dry log glows,
What guide can you follow,
O'er brake and o'er hollow,
So true as a
ghostly,
ghostly nose?
CHAPTER XVIII
Robin and Richard were two pretty men. Mother Goose's Melody.
They proceeded, following their
infallible guide, first along a light
elastic greensward under the shade of lofty and wide-spreading trees
that skirted a sunny
opening of the forest, then along labyrinthine paths,
which the deer, the
outlaw, or the
woodman had made, through the close shoots
of the young coppices, through the thick undergrowth of the ancient woods,
through beds of
gigantic fern that filled the narrow glades and waved their
green feathery heads above the plume of the
knight. Along these sylvan alleys