“‘Mercy! mercy! good bishop,’ cried one of the shepherds; ‘surely it beseemeth not thy holy office to take away the lives of so many innocent peasants.’
“‘Guards, seize these villains,’ cried the prelate, indignant at the presumption of the serf;—‘away with them to York,—they shall be strung on the highest gibbet in the city.’ The armed horsemen turned not over-willingly against the offenders, and endeavoured to seize them, but with a loud laugh they darted among the trees, where the steeds could not possibly follow. Presently the shepherd who had begged for mercy pulled from under his frock a little bugle-horn, and blew a short call upon it. The bishop and his retinue started with affright, and had already begun to urge on their horses, when they found themselves surrounded on every side by archers, dressed in green, with bows drawn in their hands.
“‘Mercy! mercy!’ cried the bishop in great trepidation at the sight of fifty or more arrows ready to pierce him through. ‘Have mercy upon an unfortunate traveller.’
“‘Fear not, good father,’ replied Robin Hood, who was the shepherd that had before spoken; ‘we do but crave thy worshipful company to dine with us under the green-wood tree, and then, when thou hast paid the forest toll, thou shalt depart in safety;’ and, stepping into the road, the bold outlaw laid one hand upon the embossed bridle of the bishop’s steed, and held the stirrup with the other.
“‘Oh! that we had but gone the outer road,’ groaned the bishop to his holy brother; ‘we should have avoided these limbs of the evil one.’
“‘Nay, nay reverend father,’ cried Robin Hood, laughing at the poor bishop’s rueful countenance; ‘call us not by so bad a name. We do but take from the rich to administer to the necessities of the poor and if we do now and then slay a fat buck or two, our good king will never know his loss. But dismount, holy sir; and do ye, my friends, come likewise; right merry shall we be with such a jovial company.’ The horsemen quickly did as they were bidden, but the bishop most reluctantly unseated himself, and with many a deep sigh obeyed the injunction of the outlaw. Some of the foresters immediately seized the horses, and tied their bridles to the lower branches of the trees; but the sumpter mules were hurried away through the wood as quickly as the narrow foot-paths would allow.
“At Robin Hood’s command, two young fellows took the unwilling bishop between them upon their shoulders, and followed by the whole company, bore him to their favourite lawn. A solitary beech tree, whose arms, covered with thick foliage, extended far around, stood in the centre, affording a delightful shade from the bright summer sun. Robin Hood seated himself upon one of the twisted roots that grew above the surface of the turf, and commanded that his visitor should be brought before him. Little John, taking off his cap as he approached, gently led him to the outlaw, while, to show his spite against him, one of the young foresters had the audacity to tie the prelate’s arms behind his back.
“‘Thou art accused of deep crimes,’ exclaimed Robin Hood. ‘It is said that thou dost gripe the poor man with a hard hand, and showest but little mercy to the unfortunate. How answerest thou?’
“‘By what right, mean serf,’ replied the bishop, the blood rushing to his temples, ‘dost thou question an anointed servant of the church?’
“‘Pax vobiscum,’ cried friar Tuck, coming forward, and folding his arms in an attitude of defiance. ‘Wherefore not, good father? Answer boldly, and swear by St. Paul that thou ne’er robbed the fatherless and the widow.’