Chapter 22. The Death of Robin Good

Robin Hood lived for many more years under the greenwood trees. Most of his original band had come back to the forest after their leader’s return from service with the King of England. As the years went by, many of them passed peacefully away and were buried under the leafy carpet that was their home.

Though he was grey-haired now, Little John remained with Robin until the end. Maid Marian, who had grown old with Robin, and who ever been content to share with him the life that they both loved, joined a nunnery. Robin wanted her to do this before she died, for he knew that the life of the outlaws was hard, and that Sherwood Forest was no home for aged people.

One spring morning Robin Hood awoke and called Little John to his side.

“I am old. Little John”, he said. “Before I die I want once more to see Maid Marian”.

“The Kirke Hall Priory is far from here, master”, said Little John.

“We can reach it somehow, Little John”, said Robin. “Why, in the old days we would think nothing of the distance”.

“We were young then”, sighed Little John.

However, the two men set out through the greenwood towards the priory where Maid Marian had gone less than a year before. Maid Marian was no longer alive. She had missed Robin and the free life of the greenwood. She lived only three months after her entry into the priory.

It was drawing towards early evening when the two men reached the postern door of the priory.

“Ring the bell, Little John”, said Robin.

Little John did so. There was a muffled clanging from within. Presently the Prioress came to the door and greeted them. Robin told her that he wished to see Maid Marian. The Prioress invited them inside. Little John sat on a rugged wooden seat outside the priory to await the return of his master. By his side were his longbow and his arrows. Robin’s bow and arrows were lying at his feet.

When Robin learned that Maid Marian was no longer alive he was overcome with grief.

“Take me to her room”, he pleaded, softly “that I may see where she spent her last days”.

The Prioress led him up a flight of stone stairs to the room where Maid Marian had been living. Robin walked to the window. He was weak now. He knew that his own end was near. Beyond the window lay the greenwood, quiet and still. Robin raised his horn once again to his lips.

Little John heard the three faint blasts. Their very faintness told him that something was wrong with his old master. He sprang up and rushed into the building.

“He is in here”, called the Prioress. “I think he needs you”.

Little John rushed up the staircase and joined his master.

“Little John”, cried Robin weakly, “I am dying. Give me once more my bow in my hand that I may shoot an arrow through the window. Where it falls, there shall you have me buried”.

Little John was back shortly with Robin’s bow and an arrow. He raised his master to the level of the window, and, with one final effort, Robin sent his last arrow speeding through the casement. All his great strength seemed to come to him for that one shot. Swift and true, the arrow flew on its way, far into the forest that had been Robin Hood’s home. Contented, Robin fell back into the arms of Little John.

“That was a long shot, Little John”.

In silence the two old friends gazed towards the greenwood.

“When you have laid me down, Little John” said Robin, “and I am gone, search for my arrow, and where it has fallen bury me there beneath the sward”.

So Robin was buried, as he had wished, by Little John where his last arrow had come to rest.

So passed Robin Hood, the gay outlaw; but the memory of his adventures lives on, and will live on, forever.

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