grass-grown path left the road and, passing through a stile and down a hill, led into a little dell and on across a rill in the valley and up the hill on the other side, till it reached a windmill that stood on the cap of the rise where the wind bent the trees in swaying motion. Robin looked at the spot and liked it, and, for no reason but that his fancy led him, he took the little path and walked down the grassy sunny slope of the open meadow, and so came to the little dingle and, ere he knew it, upon four lusty fellows that sat with legs outstretched around a goodly feast spread upon the ground.
Four merry beggars were they, and each had slung about his neck a little board that rested upon his breast. One board had written upon it, “I am blind,” another, “I am deaf,” another, “I am dumb,” and the fourth, “Pity the lame one.” But although all these troubles written upon the boards seemed so grievous, the four stout fellows sat around feasting as merrily as though Cain’s wife had never opened the pottle that held misfortunes, and let them forth like a cloud of flies to pester us.
Robin Hood cometh upon four lusty beggars in a dingle.
The deaf man was the first to hear Robin, for he said, “Hark, brothers, I hear some one coming.” And the blind man was the first to see him, for he said, “He is an honest man, brothers, and one of like craft to ourselves.” Then the dumb man called to him in a great voice and said, “Welcome, brother; come and sit whilst there is still some of the feast left and a little Malmsey in the pottle.” At this the lame man, who had taken off his wooden leg and unstrapped his own leg, and was sitting with it stretched out upon the grass so as to rest it, made room for Robin among them. “We are glad to see thee, brother,” said he, holding out the flask of Malmsey.
“Marry,” quoth Robin, laughing, and weighing the flask in his hands ere he drank, “methinks it is no more than seemly of you all to be glad to see me, seeing that I bring sight to the blind, speech to the dumb, hearing to the deaf, and such a lusty leg to a lame man. I drink to your happiness, brothers, as I may not drink to your health, seeing ye are already hale, wind and limb.”
Robin Hood drinketh with them.
At this all grinned, and the Blind beggar, who was the chief man among them, and was the broadest shouldered and most lusty rascal of all, smote Robin upon the shoulder swearing he was a right merry wag.
“Whence comest thou, lad?” asked the Dumb man.
“Why,” quoth Robin, “I came this morning from sleeping overnight in Sherwood.”
“Is it even so?” said the Deaf man. “I would not for all the money we four are carrying to Lincoln Town sleep one night in Sherwood. If Robin Hood caught one of our trade in his woodlands he would, methinks, clip his ears.”
“Methinks he would, too,” quoth Robin, laughing. “But what money is this that ye speak of?”
Then up spake the Lame man: “Our king, Peter of York,” said he, “hath sent us to Lincoln with those moneys that—”
“Stay, brother Hodge,” quoth the Blind man, breaking into the talk; “I would not doubt our brother here, but bear in mind we know him not. What art thou, brother? Upright-man, Jurkman, Clapper-dudgeon, Dommerer, or Abram-man?”
At these words Robin looked from one man to the other with mouth agape. “Truly,” quoth he, “I trust I am an upright man, at least, I strive to be; but I know not what thou meanest by such jargon, brother. It were much more seemly, methinks, if yon Dumb man, who hath a sweet voice, would give us a song.”
At these words a silence fell on all, and after a while the Blind man spoke again. Quoth he, “Thou dost surely jest when thou sayest that thou dost not understand such words. Answer me this: Hast thou ever fibbed a chouse quarrons in the Rome pad for the loure in his bung?”6
“Now out upon it,” quoth Robin Hood, testily; “an ye make sport of me by pattering such gibberish, it will be ill for you all, I tell you. I have the best part of a mind to crack the heads of all