the foremost monk, for life or
death."

The Capture of the Black Monk

The three outlaws stepped out into the road from the shelter of the
wood; they bent their bows and held their arrows on the string, and
Little John cried aloud: "Stay, churlish monk, or thou goest to thy
death, and it will be on thine own head! Evil on thee for keeping our
master fasting so long." "Who is your master?" asked the bewildered
monk; and Little John replied: "Robin Hood." The monk tossed his head.
"He is a foul thief," cried he, "and will come to a bad end. I have
heard no good of him all my days." So speaking, he tried to ride
forward and trample down the three yeomen; but Little John cried:
"Thou liest, churlish monk, and thou shalt rue the lie. He is a good
yeoman of this forest, and has bidden thee to dine with him this day";
and Much, drawing his bow, shot the monk to the heart, so that he fell
to the ground dead. The other black monk was taken, but all his
followers fled, except a little page, and a groom who tended the
sumpter-mules; and thus, with Little John's help and guidance, the
panic-stricken cleric and his train of baggage were brought to Robin
under the trysting tree.

[Illustration: "Much shot the monk to the heart"]

The Outlaws' Feast

Robin Hood doffed his cap and greeted his guest with all courtesy, but
the monk would not reply, and Little John's account of their meeting
made it evident that he was a churlish and unwilling guest. However,
he was obliged to celebrate the three usual Masses, was given water
for his ablutions before the banquet, and then when the whole
fellowship was assembled he was set in the place of honour at the
feast, and reverently served by Robin himself. "Be of good cheer, Sir
Monk," said Robin. "Where is your abbey when you are at home, and who
is your patron saint?" "I am of St. Mary's Abbey, in York, and, simple
though I be, I am the high cellarer."

The High Cellarer and the Suretyship

"For Our Lady's sake," said Robin, "we will give this monk the best of
cheer. Drink to me, Sir Monk; the wine is good. But I fear Our Lady is
wroth with me, for she has not sent me my money." "Fear not, master,"
returned Little John; "this monk is her cellarer, and no doubt she has
made him her messenger and he carries our money with him." "That is
likely," replied Robin. "Sir Monk, Our Lady was surety for a little
loan between a good knight and me, and to-day the money was to be
repaid. If yo