2 The Shooting Match in Nottingham Town

CHAPTER 2 The Shooting Match in Nottingham Town The Sheriff of Nottingham had tried to catch Robin Hood, but Robin roamed freely through Sherwood Forest, and the people laughed at the sheriff. He vowed to hang Robin Hood from the highest tree in Nottingham. The sheriff knew that no man would go after Robin alone. He himself feared Sherwood Forest. Then it came to him in a

flash. He would set a trap. The sheriff would host a shooting match in Nottingham town and offer a fine prize. "When Robin Hood and his rogues come to the match,he will be in my grasp," the sheriff thought. Robin soon heard the news. "Ho, fellows. The Sheriff of Nottingham has announced a shooting match in Nottingham town. The best archer will win a bright golden arrow. I want to win. The prize is so rich, and our sweet sheriff himself will present it. Get ready, lads!" Young David of Duncaster jumped to his feet. "Robin, I have just come from the Blue Boar Inn. People say the match is a trap." Robin did not fear the sheriff. "We will meet sneakiness with sneakiness," he said. He told his men to wear disguises. Some would dress in the robes of a friar. Others would don the tattered clothes of a beggar. Each

man would hide a sword beneath his costume. "How do you like my plan, merry men?" Robin cried out. Everyone in Nottinghamshire attended the contest. The archers gathered in a tent near the range. The sheriff and his wife took their seats above it. Then the silver bugles announced the beginning of the match. The sheriff leaned forward, searching for Robin Hood. He had never seen Robin, but he knew that Robin and his men wore Lincoln green. No one was dressed in Lincoln green. "He may still be here. He will be among the ten in round two, or I don't know him at all," the sheriff thought. The archers shot the first round. Never before had anyone in Nottingham seen such shooting. Only three arrows missed the center ring of the target. At the last shot, the crowd shouted, "Hurrah!"

The ten men who had shot best remained on the range. Six were famous throughout the land. Two others were from merry Yorkshire. A stranger in blue said he came from London town. The last man was dressed all in red. He wore a patch over his right eye. The second round began. As each man took aim, the crowd fell silent. When the last man shot, everyone again shouted and clapped. Now three men remained. One was Gilbert o' the Red Cap, another was the stranger in scarlet, and the third was Adam o' the Dell. People called out, "Hey for Gilbert o' the Red Cap!" or "Ho for Adam o' the Dell!" No one shouted for the stranger in scarlet. Gilbert shot first. His arrow flew straight and struck just a finger's breadth from the center of the target. The crowd shouted,

"Gilbert! Gilbert!" The sheriff clapped his hands, saying, "Now that was a fine shot!" Next came the stranger in scarlet. He pulled his bowstring back and shot quickly. The arrow sped through the air and struck the target just barely closer to the center than Gilbert's arrow had. The sheriff's jaw dropped. "By all the saints in Heaven! That was an amazing shot!" Adam o' the Dell drew his bow carefully. His arrow struck the target close beside the stranger's. Once more, all three men shot. Adam o' the Dell's arrow struck farthest from the center. Again, the stranger dressed in scarlet shot the best. All the men took a short rest, and then Gilbert readied to shoot again. He aimed carefully, and his arrow struck the target almost exactly in the center. "Well done, Gilbert!" shouted the sheriff.

"I do believe the prize is yours. Now, ragged knave in scarlet, let's see you shoot better than that." The stranger drew his bow, held it for a moment, and then let his arrow fly. It struck the very center of the target, so close to Gilbert's arrow that it knocked a feather from the shaft. No one said a word, and no one clapped. Each man stared into the face of his neighbor, amazed. Adam o' the Dell shook his head and unstrung his bow. "I've shot my last arrow for the day. No one can shoot better than that stranger dressed in red." The Sheriff of Nottingham hurried up with the golden arrow. "Here, good fellow. You have won your prize fairly. What is your name?" "Men call me Jock o' Teviotdale," said the stranger in scarlet.