Forest Days. G. P. R. James

share in that bad business? I left the poor man, her father, nearly broken-hearted."

      "Share!" exclaimed the forester; "somewhat more than a share. She is now his leman at Huntingdon. I had tidings this morning, and they are now tasting together the fiery drop of joy which floats upon the deep draughts of bitterness in the cup of vice. A few weeks will cloy him, and then her sorrows will begin; but if I lay my hands upon him, so help me the Blessed Virgin! as I will nail his ears to the door-posts of good John Greenly's house, and scourge him with bowstrings from Wakefield to Pontefract. But, to speak of what is more important, my lord--do you think the rogue filched any of your secrets?"

      "No," replied the Earl--"no, many of the people did not come; Hugh Bigod, too, was away; and, as is often the case with long-concerted meetings, to settle matters of great moment, we waited for each other, and, in the end, the whole thing went to empty air. I could not but think, however, that he strove hard to renew the breach between the house of Ashby and ourselves. With the father he did not succeed, but with the son he seemed to make some progress; so much so, indeed, that I was well pleased when this Sir Richard told us his purpose of going on before to London. After he was gone, Alured grew somewhat placable; and when we parted company, Hugh went with the two lords, trying to soothe and gain the younger one.--But here, Robin, what have we here? Why you have made the forest as gay as a May-day bride!"

      CHAPTER IX.

      The words of the old Earl gave a good idea of the picture which was presented to his eyes. It was indeed like a May-day pageant, or like one of those scenes which we now-a-days see upon the stage, but which are but feeble representations of those that in former times were constantly acted in reality. Though, it is true, we form exaggerated images of many things that we do not behold, imagination presents but a very faint idea of the splendour and decoration of those ages when sumptuary laws were enacted in various countries to prevent peasants from displaying gold and silver embroidery in their garments. What may be called representation was a part of that epoch. It was in every palace, and in every castle, at the table of the grave citizen, with his gold chain, in the arm-chair of the justice, in the ball of the franklin. It sat upon the forked beard of Chaucer's merchant, it appeared in the party-coloured garments of the gallant of the court. In short, a great part of everything in that day was effect: it was one of the great objects of the age, and all classes of people had an eye for it. Perhaps in all things, as in their great buildings, their taste was better than our own--in very few points it could be worse; and in consulting what is bright and pleasing to the eye, what is exciting and dazzling to the imagination, they followed where nature led--nature who delights in striking contrasts, as much as in gentle harmonies.

      If, indeed, we can form a very faint idea of the splendour of the court and the castle, our conception is still more inadequate of the picturesque decoration of humbler scenes in those days. We are apt to conceive that it was all rude, or gross; and we scarcely believe in the charms of the merry morrice dance, in the graces and attractions that sported round the May-pole, in the moonlight meetings which Old Fitzstephen records, or in any of the sweeter and more gentle pleasures and pastimes of the peasantry of Old England; and yet all these things were true, all were enacted by living beings like ourselves upon every village green throughout the land, long before a feeble mockery of them crept into a close and stifling playhouse.

      Stronger passions--or perhaps the same passions but less under control than in the present day--took their part therein, from time to time, and prompted to all those wild energies which spring from deep and highly-excited feelings. Graces free and uncultivated were there likewise, and the honest outpourings of the heart, subjected to no dull sneer from the lips of false refinement, burst forth with the touching force of simplicity and truth. The universal weaknesses of our nature mingled with all the rest, and varied the drama through a thousand parts. Vanity, and self-love, and pride, and envy, had their share in the gathering of spring flowers, in the weaving of the garland, in the decoration of the tent, in the choice of the May queen, and in the dance upon the sward; but to say sooth, they gave a pungency and a brightness, and a human interest to the whole.

      I beseech thee, then, dear reader, carry thy mind back to the times of which I write, and recollect that such scenes as that which met the eye of the old Lord Monthermer, were every-day realities, and not any part of a cold fable.

      Whether planted by accident or design I know not, but at the side of one of the little savannahs I have described, where the grass was short and dry, six old oaks came forward from the rest of the wood, three on either hand, at the distance of about forty feet apart, forming a sort of natural avenue. Their long branches stretched across and nearly met each other, and under this natural canopy was spread out the long table, prepared for the good Earl's repast; while, from bough to bough above, crossing each other in various graceful sweeps, were innumerable garlands, forming a sort of net-work of forest flowers, The board, too--let not the reader suppose that it was rude and bare, for it was covered with as fine linen as ever came from the looms of Ireland or Saxony.^[2] The board had a nosegay laid where every man was expected to sit, and the ground beneath was strewed with rushes and green leaves to make a soft resting-place for the feet. Under the trees were gathered together various groups of stout archers in their peculiar garb, with many a country girl from the neighbouring villages, all in holiday apparel. A number of young countrymen, too, were present, showing that the rovers of the forest were at no great pains to conceal their place of meeting; for their lawless trade found favour in the sight of the many; and their security depended as much upon the confidence and goodwill of the lower orders, as upon the dissensions and disunion of the higher classes.

      The first sight of the Earl and the outlaw caused not a little bustle amongst the companions of the latter. There was running here and there, and putting things in array; and it was very evident that, although expected and prepared for, everything was not quite ready when the Earl arrived.

      "Give him good morrow--give the noble Earl good morrow!" cried the forester, putting his horn to his lips and waving his hand for a signal.

      Every man followed his example, and in a moment the whole glades of the forest rang with the sounds of the merry horn. Not a note was out of tune, no two were inharmonious, and, as with a long swell and fall, the mellow tones rose and died away, the effect in that wild yet beautiful scene was not a little striking and pleasant to the ear.

      "Yeomanly! yeomanly! right yeomanly done!" cried Robin Hood. "This is the way, my lord, that we receive a true friend to the English Commons and the good old Saxon blood. Will you please to dismount, and taste our cheer? If yonder cooks have not done their duty, and got all ready, I will fry them in their own grease, though I guess from yon blazing log that they are somewhat behindhand."

      As he spoke, he fixed his eyes upon a spot, to which those of the Earl followed them, where a scene not quite harmonious with the poetry of the rest of the arrangement was going on, but one very satisfactory to the hungry stomachs of the Earl's retainers. An immense pile of blazing wood, fit to have roasted Hercules himself, was crackling and hissing and roaring so close to a distant angle of the wood, that the flames scorched the green leaves on the farther side. Beside it were some five men, in clean white jackets, running hastily about, and basting sundry things of a very savoury odour, which by the contrivance of small chains and twisted strings, were made to revolve before the fire. Each man was glad enough to keep to windward of the blaze; and, even then, full many a time were they forced to run to a distance for cool air and free breath, for the heat was too intense for any one to endure it long without suffering the fate of the immense masses of meat which were turning before it.

      About fifty yards from this burning mountain was a lesser volcano, from which, upon the primitive tripod of three long poles; hung sundry pots of vast dimensions, emitting steams very grateful to the nose; while, in a cool spot under the trees, appeared the no less pleasant sight of two large barrels, one twined round with a garland of young vine-leaves, and the other with a wreath of oak. A host of drinking cups, fit to serve an army, lay near them, and a man with a mallet was busily engaged in driving a spigot and faucet to give discreet vent to the liquor within.

      "Ho! where is Little John?" cried Robin Hood--"a small friend of mine, my lord, whom you must know.