The Knight’s Poverty
“Is that the truth?” asked Robin, making a sign to Little John, who arose, and, going to the knight’s steed, unstrapped a small coffer, which he brought back and placed before his master. “Search it, Little John,” said he, and “You, sir, tell me the very truth, by your honour as a belted knight.” “It is truth, on my honour, that I have but ten shillings,” replied the knight, “and if Little John searches he will find no more.” “Open the coffer,” said Robin, and Little John took it away to the other side of the trysting oak, where he emptied its contents on his outspread cloak, and found exactly ten shillings. Returning to his master, who sat at his ease, drinking and gaily conversing with his anxious guest, Little John whispered: “The knight has told the truth,” and thereupon Robin exclaimed aloud: “Sir Knight, I will not take one penny from you; you may rather borrow of me if you have need of more money, for ten shillings is but a miserable sum for a knight. But tell me now, if it be your pleasure, how you come to be in such distress.” As he looked inquiringly at the stranger, whose blush had faded once, only to be renewed as he found his word of honour doubted, he noticed how thin and threadbare were his clothes and how worn his russet leather shoes; and he was grieved to see so noble-seeming a man in such a plight.