“Sing thy song of the Greenwood, Martin,” added the mother.

And the boy sang, with a sweet and child-like accent, a song of the exploits of the famous Robin Hood and Little John: 

Come listen to me, ye gallants so free,
All you that love mirth for to hear;
And I will tell, of what befell,
To a bold outlaw, in Nottinghamshire.

As Robin Hood, in the forest stood,
Beneath the shade of the greenwood tree,
He the presence did scan, of a fine young man,
As fine as ever a jay might be.

Abroad he spread a cloak of red,
A cloak of scarlet fine and gay,
Again and again, he frisked over the plain,
And merrily chanted a roundelay.

The ballad went on to tell how next day Robin saw this fine bird, whose name was Allan-a-dale, with his feathers all moultered; because his bonnie love had been snatched from him and was about to be wed to a wizened old knight, at a neighbouring church, against her will.  And then how Robin Hood and Little John, and twenty-four of their merrie men, stopped the ceremony, and Little John, assuming the Bishop’s robe, married the fair bride to Allan-a-dale, who thereupon became their man and took to an outlaw’s life with his bonny wife.

“Well sung, my lad, but when thou shalt marry, I wish thee a better priest than Little John; here is a guerdon for thee, a rose noble; some day thou wilt be a famous minstrel.

“And now, my Stephen, let us sleep, if our good hosts will permit.”

“There is a hut hard by, such as we all use, which I have devoted to your service; clean straw and thick coverlets of skins, warriors will hardly ask more.”

“It was but an hour since I thought the heath would have been our couch, and a snowball our pillow; we shall be well content.”

“It is wind proof, and thou mayst rest in safety till the horn summons all to break their fast at dawn:  thou mayst sleep meanwhile as securely as in thine own castle.”

And the outlaws rose with a courtesy one would hardly have expected from these wild sons of the forest; while Kynewulf showed the guests to their sleeping quarters, through the still fast-falling snow.

The hut was snug as Grimbeard (for such was the chieftain’s appropriate name) had boasted, and tolerably wind proof, although in such a storm snow will always force its way through the tiniest crevices.  It was built of wattle work, cunningly daubed with clay, even as the early Britons built their lodges.

And here slept the great earl, whose name was known through the civilised world, the brother-in-law of the king, the mightiest warrior of his time, and, amongst the laity, the most devout churchman known to fame.

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In the dead hour of the night, when the darkness is deepest and sleep the soundest, they were both awakened by the opening of the door, and the cold blast of wind it produced.  The earl and his squire started up and sat upright on their couches.