“None of this earth,” replied Tuck smilingly. And once more his heart warmed toward the courteous stranger.
They had not proceeded more than three or four miles along the way from Fountain Abbey to Barnesdale, when of a sudden the bushes just ahead of them parted and a well-knit man with curling brown hair stepped into the road and laid his hand upon the knight’s bridle.
It was Robin Hood. He had seen Friar Tuck, a little way back, and shrewdly suspected his plan. Tuck, however, feigned not to know him at all.
“Hold!” cried Robin; “I am in charge of the highway this day, and must exact an accounting from all passersby.”
“Who is it bids me hold?” asked the knight quietly. “I am not i’ the habit of yielding to one man.”
“Then here are others to keep me company,” said Robin clapping his hands. And instantly a half-score other stalwart fellows came out of the bushes and stood beside him.
“We be yeomen of the forest, Sir Knight,” continued Robin, “and live under the greenwood tree. We have no means of support—thanks to the tyranny of our over-lords—other than the aid which fat churchmen and goodly knights like yourselves can give. And as ye have churches and rents, both, and gold in great plenty, we beseech ye for Saint Charity to give us some of your spending.”
“I am but a poor monk, good sir!” said Friar Tuck in a whining voice, “and am on my way to the shrine of Saint Dunstan, if your worshipfulness will permit.”
“Tarry a space with us,” answered Robin, biting back a smile, “and we will speed you on your way.”
The Black Knight now spoke again. “But we are messengers of the King,” quoth he; “His Majesty himself tarries near here and would have speech with Robin Hood.”