March, 1194. The English people had paid dearly for his freedom, but he seemed to have become more endeared to them on that account. Impulsive and enthusiastic then as now, they crowded about him with uproarious welcome, and accompanied him on his way to London with shouts of rejoicing. The injuries inflicted by the Norman conquest were beginning to disappear from their minds; and though Cœur-de-Lion could not speak their language, he was their king, and his exploits were a national honour. London, at least, was not impoverished by the sums raised for his ransom. So magnificent was the reception given by the citizens—such stores of plate, and jewels, and cloth of gold were displayed, to do honour to the occasion—that one of the German barons who went with him expressed his astonishment at the sight, and said that if the emperor his master had known the wealth of the country, he would not have let his prisoner off so easily. At the moment when Richard entered London, bells were ringing at the churches, tapers were lit, and at every altar in the city sentence of excommunication was pronounced, by order of the bishops, against Prince John and his adherents.
John himself had received timely notice of the release of Richard by a letter which reached him from Philip, containing the significant words, "Take care of yourself—the devil is broken loose;" and the prince immediately sought safety in flight. At a council held at Nottingham, the barons summoned him to appear within forty days, on pain of the forfeiture of all his estates; they also determined that Richard should be crowned a second time, and though the king was opposed to this extraordinary proceeding, he submitted to a decision which was evidently dictated by loyalty. The ceremony was performed at Winchester on Easter Day following.
From Nottingham Richard proceeded on a journey of pleasure through Sherwood Forest, which extended over a space of several hundred miles, to the centre of the county of York.[1] "He had never seen this forest," says Roger of Hoveden, "and it pleased him greatly." There, through quiet glades and grassy lawns, "under the greenwood tree," the king solaced himself for his long imprisonment, and tasted the sweet breath of liberty. Sensuous enjoyment is born of privation, and means nothing more than a want supplied. In every age, to him who has been long a captive, the free air and the cheerful face of Nature have a charm to which no other can compare, and Cœur-de-Lion, a knight-errant, and something of a poet by nature, was not likely to be insensible to its influence. The forest of Sherwood was remarkable for picturesque beauty; throughout its vast extent there were pleasant valleys, whose undulating slopes were covered with the varied foliage peculiar to our island; tall oaks grew there luxuriantly, stately memorials of the past, which for a thousand years had cast their shade on Dane and Druid, Saxon and Norman; game abounded in the covers for those who chose to seek it; many a mossy couch with its leafy canopy, invited to repose. Apart from its natural advantages, the place had other attractions to the adventurous spirit of Cœur-de-Lion. Sherwood Forest had long been the retreat of bands of armed Saxons, who still defied the Norman power, and chose rather to live as outlaws than submit to the authority of foreigners. Driven by the Normans from the inhabited parts of the country, they found a refuge in the groves of Sherwood, where they collected together under a chief, who directed a sort of military government. They supported themselves by the chase and by plunder, killing the king's venison without stint, and making incursions, whenever an opportunity offered, upon the lands of the neighbouring barons.
At the time when the famous Cœur-de-Lion visited Sherwood, there lived within its recesses a man whom the Anglo-Saxon people regarded as their hero, and whose name has been handed down to us in so many tales and poems, that there is some danger of our confounding him with the fabled heroes of romance. "At this time arose among the outlaws that most famous freebooter, Robin Hode, whom the common people celebrate in their comedies and festivals, and whose exploits, related by the mimes and minstrels, delight them greatly."[2] Little is really known with certainty about Robin Hood, but, as far as can be gathered from the ancient ballads, he owed his position as chief of the marauders to superior intelligence as well as valour. He was a Saxon by birth, and of no higher rank than that of a peasant; the stories which relate that he had been Earl of Huntingdon, or was descended from an earl, being at variance with the older narratives. Among the former is a beautiful romance, which would make him out to be the very child of the woods, born there "among flowering lilies." However this may be, it is certain that he passed his life in the forest, with a band of several hundred archers, who became the terror of all the rich lords, bishops, and abbots in the neighbourhood, especially those of Norman birth. Robin Hood made war upon the rich, but he respected the persons of his own countrymen, and never molested or robbed the poor. The numerous ballads which relate this trait in his character are in their very existence a proof of what they assert, for no man could have been made the theme of such general eulogium unless he had been much beloved by the people. Little John, the lieutenant of Robin Hood, is scarcely less celebrated than his chief, whose constant companion he was in all his dangers or pleasures. Little John appears to have possessed a skill in archery second only to that of Robin himself, of which so many incredible stories are told by the romancers. There is also a third person mentioned by tradition—one Friar Tuck, who thought fit to retain his gown while every other sign of his former calling had disappeared. These were the most noted among Robin Hood's band—a very merry company, if we may believe the story-tellers, leading a careless, gipsy life; doing a great deal of harm, no doubt, but presenting, on the whole, a favourable contrast to the cruelty and tyranny of their Norman oppressors.
On the return of King Richard to London, and immediately after his second coronation, he commenced preparations for a war in France, which he proposed to undertake in revenge for the injuries he had sustained at the hands of Philip. For this purpose, as well as for his own necessities, money was required, and Richard showed no scruple as to the means by which it was obtained. He at once annulled the sales of royal estates which he had made before his departure for the Holy Land, declaring that they had not
