This is the tale of Robin Hood’s first adventure in the regions of Kernow, many more were to follow, but this is how they started.
The band of outlaws had been rectifying the injustices inflicted by King John’s minions for several seasons by now. Their renown spread through the country and gave hope to those who were of the land. The peasants and paupers, beggars and the dispossessed, those tied to the earth for their very existence: As the gentry had further extortions imposed upon them, so they sought to extract more from their subordinates in turn.
News had travelled far and wide of the Merry Men’s exploits, the mere idea of a successful rebellion, an insurgent amongst the trees, well, it had birthed a new optimism in an oppressed population: An infamy that inspired each group on the divides of privilege, in opposing measure. For every seed of optimism that was germinated, so the tyrants invented new methods of repression.
The nights were drawing out further again in the woodlands of Sherwood. The equinox had passed with all the usual celebrations, although in the heart of the woodland the festivities were a little covert. The band remained ever vigilant.
A stranger was spotted on that ominous late April morning. The warning arrow shot from the watchman struck the ground amongst the virgin bluebells. The ensuing mild panic woke Will Scarlett, who was sleeping late after getting carried away on Friar Tuck’s mead the previous evening. He leapt from where he lay, taking visual vantage upon a mossy rock. His concern turned to empathy when he processed what he saw.
The horse’s ribs rippled through her back, polka dot foam frothing at the brace in her mouth. Its rider a straggler in a faded blue hood, their clothes in tatters and their left hand bandaged in a filthy rag. Once stern shoulders sagged in exhaustion. Their raspy voice spoke a foreign tongue; none could understand it.
“Harow! Robin Hood a wrav vy hwilas! Skoodhyans Robin Hood a wrav vy pysi!”
-Help! I must find Robin Hood! Please help me Robin Hood!
Some of the band thought the rider mad; others felt it may be a trap sent from the authorities in Nottingham Castle. As the group gathered around the distraught rider, Friar Tuck, who had spent time in the Breton regions, moved toward the fore.
“I know this speak, ‘tis similar to the monks of Mount St Michael, let me through…”
The friar muscled his way to the front of the small crowd and started to communicate with the bedraggled intruder. A few of the merry band exchanged quizzical looks, puzzled at this exotic language coming out of Tucks mouth. Tuck and the dishevelled intruder parlayed for some time before he addressed the group.
“They speak of . . . more of usurper Johns schemes towards enriching himself. . . his men ran through her home town but a few weeks ago. . . installed new governance . . .now common men have been removed from the land they have tended since their ancestors nostalgia. . .of children exploited and rivers poisoned . . . the powers granted by the usurper . . . a new thing they are calling ‘The Stannary’ . . .”
The Merry Men looked at one another in further puzzlement. What was this new method of wealth extraction that John had enacted? All knew the mines of West Wales brought plenty of coin to the Crown already, what was now afoot in Cornualia? Not many of the Merry Men had visited the Tin Islands, but all had heard of its importance to the economy; that even King Richard himself would not wish to upset its inhabitants for fear of disrupting the processing of vital resources.
The Friar asked “Pyth yw dha hanow?”
-What is your name?
Taking down the blue hood to reveal her face, the dishevelled lady replied “Ow hanow yw Mary Moses.”
-My name is Mary Moses.
“Dos Mary Moyses, Os ta salow lemmyn.”
-Come Mary Moses, you are safe now.
By the time Robin had arrived back from hunting venison, Mary Moses had been tended to and was sitting by the fire with a bowl of spring stew and a horn of watered mead. Her mare had been groomed and was greedily chomping up some oats provided. Taking in the scene, Robin wondered who this visitor could be, was glad to see the hospitality offered after what must have been a vigilant integration.
Friar Tuck approached Robin’s side to inform him of all he had learnt, of Banditos hijacking food stores, of children forced to toil beneath the surface of the earth. Of a starving and displaced population ruled over by foreign hordes in the employ of whatever sinister motifs lay behind shrouded vales. Robin knew enough to know that if mercenaries were involved, they had been instructed by a higher power. He talked to Mary Moses late into the night, their shadowy expressions lit by the firelight. Friar Tuck patiently translated and absorbed all he discovered along the way.
Robin was struck by the sovereignty of the large framed lady; she emitted an aura of purity, he thought. Her bedraggled brown hair finished at the top of her broad shoulders; her hands were larger than Robin’s. Yet he knew, from the inclination in her voice, that her touch would be gentler than many a nursemaid. They talked of many things, though she could not read or write Mary Moyses carried much information in the form of story and song. She had never felt compelled to engage in the romances of the other sex, choosing instead to learn the histories of her people, which were still passed from mouth to mouth in those days.
Robin was struck by the Saintly nature of the female troubadour and noted that when he passed through the Normandy regions a few years before, women there fulfilled a similar role, that of memorising the oral traditions. The dame bards were known as Le Trobairitz.
Though she may not be literate, Mary had bought written proof of what she described, she gave it to Robin that night.
Should you wish to, you can read a copy of King John’s Charter of Helston at the end of this story and see what you think.
In the morning Robin was informing his men of the situation afoot. “. . . And we learn of the mercenaries employed to guard the land seized, Spanish seafarers with a flair for oppression and ownership. We have surely never encountered such adversaries before.”
Little John stepped forth, his height a head’s breadth beneath his comrades taller frames, barely reaching Mary Moyses’ chest. “Before Robin Goodfellow came forth to lead us I fought men such as these. There had been reports of raids on the West coast, marauders who arrived on small kiffs sent from larger boats further out in the ocean. Their stealth was combined with a savagery that desolated the coastal settlements. In an attempt to save those who would be slaves I challenged one of the corsairs to a duel. These men do not battle with the same code of honour that we are accustomed to, utilising any foul method to gain advantage. They do, however, have one weakness that I can share with you now: Their pride, for when in close combat, I used my belt knife to scar the pirate’s face; his composure was lost for a moment as he realised his new disfigurement. Striking hard as I might in that instant, I overcame him and led the captives to liberty.”
Robin naturally felt compelled to investigate, yet immediately faced a geographic problem. Mary was from a small market town called Henliston, far in the depths of the region. To get there, many miles of hostile territory must be traversed, unless. . .
Robin Hood took a turn out of character, felt the foot of fate fumble, and knew action was imminent, a new action to solve a new problem:
“We must travel by boat,” Robin declared. Perplexed expressions abounded, for surely the Merry Men’s strength lay in the woodlands.
“There are not many forests in the part of Kernow where this lady abides, the trees have been felled by John’s men to support the caves they dig. No woodland to camouflage our arrival, the habitat of the animals we rely on decimated. If we are to investigate, it must be done in a discreet manor, as are all our endeavours.”
Little John agreed. “Robin is right when he suggests we should utilise the sea. I have friends north of here who will lend us a vessel worthy of the journey.”
And so it came to pass that the Merry Men made their way toward the new adventure on a small ship commissioned from the fiefdom of the North Folk. Sailing from the port of Grimbsee, out the Humber estuary and down the ass end of the North Sea, through the English Channel and up the south coast. After the wind died to a still, they rowed up the estuary known as The Loe, docking the boat and landed their feet on the fern-covered bank. Mary Moses was the first to set foot on her homeland. She led them silently into the town.
When the Merry Men arrived in Henliston all was quiet. No jostling came from the Blue Anchor Inn, no carts passed on the streets. It was as if a curfew were in force, an air of oppression hung in the air like sulphurous gas. Standing in the square a brown skinned man stood tall in his baggy trousers, waistcoat swinging in the breeze. A gold earring glinted as he turned to look at them; with the sun behind his head, it was hard for the Merry Men to get a look at him, to measure his morality.
Little John was first to test the brevity of the pirate, stepping forth into his view. Thinking he could play on the man’s vanity to unsettle him John hurled insults at the Catalonian. “Your shirtless jacket belongs on the brothel lepers as your trousers fill with anus gas!”
The Spaniard looked at John and grinned, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. The shorter man went on trying to provoke him.
“The gold in your ear was mined by albino trolls, its curses seep through the blood of your children! Your wife will grow warts upon the regions you most adore, and your offspring interbreed for lack of admirers!”
The grinning Catalonian replied with just the hint of an accent. “Tall words from one who would need a ladder to reach them!”
Little John was not expecting such a quick-witted response; it was he who was now caught off guard. Without meaning too John charged at the Spaniard, raising his oak staff above his chest. His adversary swiftly responded – his bulky frame became poised in strength. His cutlass stayed at his side, left undrawn. He battled with Little John using only his bare hands, dodging and blocking, ducking and sidestepping the swinging oak staff. For every blow that failed to land John became more enraged, his judgement setting into fatigue. Leaping out the way of yet another failed attempt the Spaniard continued to gloat.
“My clothes may seem odd to you hombrecito, but they allow me the freedom to escape your clumsy baston! I hope you have more skill with your polla!”
With his head now out of the sunlight, Robin observed the pirate from the peripheries, assessing the spirit of the man. Watching the ensuing duel Robin did not see a man of vanity nor a warrior utilising dirty fighting tactics. And though his head was no longer crowned by the background sunlight, so it still seemed to carry a glow above it.
Beads of sweat flung from John’s brow as his breath grew shorter with each movement. The Spaniard had not attempted any counter blow, choosing instead to occupy defensive tactics; this changed with John’s tiredness settling in. Pivoting on the ball of his foot the Spaniard timed his offensive blow with precision. Using the back of his flat open hand he spun, catching Little John behind his left ear with such force that he was instantly discombobulated. The Spaniard did not follow through with another blow, choosing to throw another insult at John instead.
“Maybe if your mother taught you some stamina, you would not need to use such witless insults, Pequeno Juan.”
Staggering away dizzy, the smaller man’s morale was also conquered in that moment, further confused that the adversary somehow knew his name.
As Little John wobbled back in defeat, Robin now knew how to beat the Corsaro. After watching the man dual with Little John Robin Goodfellow of the Hood had spotted a weakness in his defensive technique. Taking a length of rope from his horse pack and checking it for any signs of defect, Robin did not bother to verbally engage with the insurgent. As he approached he flung the thick cord at the feet of the man and gave it a sudden tug. The rope wrapped round his legs, and a hint of confusion registered across his handsome face. Robin flicked the rope, then gave it another yank and the Spaniards legs shot from beneath him.
“Perhaps it is too soon for you to boast, Spaniard!”
The rope was tied tight; arms bent back and bound, the Catalonian conceded to the band’s will. Marched in the direction of the new mine workings hidden on the edge of town he was now silent in capture; his mouth gagged with thick hemp rope. Mary Moses led the way, stealthily placed steps echoing no presence. Her affinity with that specific place was recognised by the Merry Men, recognised that she was, as themselves, of the woodland. What was left of it.
What once was a thriving ecosystem, a plethora of habitats diverse in occupation, was now a scene of apocalypse. Oaks, ancient as anything remembered, felled and split where they lay. Trunk’s rounder than the girth of a great corn wheel, now splintered stumps desperate in their appearance. The forested canopy naked, newly wounded, bright dispersal of sunlight, the bagus felt vulnerably exposed.
Travelling further upstream, the water became murkier, the birdsong quieter. As they approached the mine workings, they sent Will Scarlett ahead to scout the path and fathom any dangers. What he saw shook him to his core: All Mary Moses had said was true. The excavations had devastated the landscape. The mine workings were overseen by more Spanish Corsairs, clearly distinguishable from their bright clothes. They marched their captive workers as though they were diseased cattle.
Will Scarlett had concealed himself behind a large pile of rocks, lying still as he might. Over a time longer than you might have imagined, Scarlett took to memory all he observed.
The chief amongst the Pirates was Lord Ozborn, the scar on his face informed Will that this must be the man that Little John had duelled many moons ago. Lord Ozborn took particular glee in inflicting punishments on his captives: Pushing the laden carts out of the filthy cave the youngsters were goaded with whip and whim. The look of despair on the children’s faces was one Will Scarlett would not forget in a hurry. He crept back to his gang of outlaws to relay what he had learnt.
The rope was removed from the captured corsair’s mouth. Robin had intuited that this man was of a different morality than his comrades in arms. When he heard Will’s reports, his brown skin turned a shade paler. Protesting his ignorance he said “I have not visited the Mines, nor been involved in the enslavement of anyone. My role was to guard the town from any outsiders seen to interfere with the wider operation. If you will lay your trust in me, I will assist you in the freeing of all captives. For I was not born to promote such unholy pastimes and would not wish to perpetuate such a travesty on anyone.”
Robin looked in his eye and finally saw the soul of the man, removed his belt knife and freed the captive’s bonds. The emancipated pirate, whose name was Don Miguel, told them all he knew, though he had not yet met their leader, that he knew there were another six mercenaries in the employ of Lord Ozborn. The question loomed in their intent, how to defeat the Pirates without endangering the prisoners’ lives?
The Merry men debated for a good few fruitless moments, frustrations growing with each un-bountiful idea. An air of bickering overtook them before they were interrupted.
It was Don Miguel’s turn to speak.
“One way I know we can outwit the slavers is their love for the Grey Goose. The men see the creature as their emblem and carry much superstition around the animal. If they were to see one, they would not be able to help themselves to capture it, for a wild Gray Goose is an omen to the sea farers. Tell me mis nuevos amigos does such a creature exist in these lands?”
The band looked at one another in ambiguity, for they were not of this region and did not know of its native beasts, and yet also did not entirely trust this man on his word. Surely the pirates could not be overcome with a simple farmyard animal? Robin sensed their unease and sought to appease.
“His words are true, I will trust in this man’s plan”.
The band would follow Robin anywhere, guided by his moral compass.
Friar Tuck took the initiative and addressed Mary Moses.
“A wruss’ta gweles Goodh Loos Mary?”
-Have you seen a Grey Goose Mary?
Without saying a word Mary Moses pulled up her virgin blue hood and disappeared into what was left of the woodland. The Merry Men were left in confusion at her departure, yet still decided to hunt for a Gray Goose themselves. After many hours of unfruitful searching the group were starting to feel exasperated. They had all but given up, choosing to make camp and debate other plans instead. They had lit a fire and were roasting a freshly killed hare, exchanging ideas about how best to free the captured children when Mary Moyses herself appeared, shuffling out the remaining undergrowth. She carried a hessian sack which wriggled seemingly of its own accord. She slowly said
“I . . . have. . .found. . .a. . .Goose Grey”
Everyone was so surprised to hear her talk in their language that they forgot all about the Goose Grey itself! They dined together, Robins’ men, the Catalonian Don Miguel and the Virgin Bard Mary Moses, their differences united in common purpose. They finalised the details of the entrapment that was to be sprung upon the early May morn, the juice of roasted hare dribbling down their wagging chins.
The ruse was laid just as Don Miguel had devised. They Merry Men lay in wait; Robin himself poised in situ. The first Mercenary stepped out of the mine work opening and inquisitively responded to the bait. The Grey Goose had been set loose, but with a small thread of twine bound to one of its claws, it pottered and pecked at the ground seemingly innocent.
When the first pirate saw the Goose his face lit in concern, he bellowed down the mine works.
“Prisa! Hay un pajaro sagrado!”
-Hurry! There is a sacred bird!
The remaining Spaniards ran from their underground workings, neglecting their duties as slave guards. As soon as they spotted the Grey Goose they immediately gave chase. Will Scarlett tugged at the twine and the bird promptly took flight with the slavers in desperate pursuit. The plan was working so far.
Robin and several of his men crept down the vug’s opening and returned within a few short moments with many emaciated youngsters following in tow. The emancipated youth squinted at the bright spring sun, holding arms in front of their dirty faces in an attempt to recover vision.
Meanwhile the gullible banditos gave chase, following the path where the Merry Men awaited undercover.
The goose flew only a few feet off the ground: its wings had been clipped to prevent proper flight. The Spaniards ran clumsily shouting useless instructions to one another along the way. At last they came to the spot where the Merry Men were hidden, at just the right moment they released the taut rope, the net leapt upwards enshrouding the men in captivity. They were quick to give up the location of their leader, Lord Ozborn, who had occupied a local tavern. A message was sent to him, pleading his presence at the mine.
It did not take Lord Ozborn long to arrive. When Don Miguel saw him his figure appeared to rise in size and strength, the back of his waistcoat seemed to fill with some unseen phenomena.
“Debi haber conocido a Lucifer, porque seguramente esto es obra del Diablo”
I should have known Lucifer, for surely this is the work of the devil.
The decimated woodland seemed to take on an ethereal quality of light, mizzle crept in from nowhere. Don Miguel and Lord Ozborn circled and stared at one another for an eternity. Eventually they started to fight. They wrestled for quite some time.
Finally the duel moved in favour of Don Miguel, who had cornered Lord Ozborn into the mine opening. Drawing strength from heaven itself Miguel rolled an impossibly large boulder, tipping the giant rock and trapping Lord Ozborn in the mine where he had imprisoned others within his turn.
The children had been watching, concealed from the bank, they all started cheering when the tormentor, whom they were now calling An Jowl, was imprisoned behind the boulder.
The groups all joined as one, Robin and Piquano Jaun, Will Scarlett and Merry Moses, The Merry Men and the elated children. In the celebration, no one noted Don Miguel’s sudden absence.
They all marched back from the liberated mine, downstream through the decimated forest and back to Henliston town, where its occupants were free to roam and hunt and hold their weekly markets. Families were reunited as the youngsters reintegrated. A feast was cooked to be served the very next day. Nobody had seen Don Miguel since the battle.
The following afternoon, they all sat along the edges of the long table, the town square in jubilation. Every food available had been bought to celebrate their triumph. In the middle the spit-roasted deer sat like a mountain. Suddenly Don Miguel appeared, carrying a tiny bouquet of white beaded flowers, he approached Mary Moyses and placed the Lily of the Valley in her hand.
“This is for you, Mary, and for the future of your town’s celebrations, where your townsfolk will don the Losowen an Hav every year on this day and commune in merriment.”
Don Miguel took three paces into the background and faded into the ether. He was never seen in Helston again.
And as you may know, every year on May the 8th the inhabitants of the modern town of Hellys join together to march through the streets and sing the song of the Hal an Tow.
Robin Hood and Little John,
They are both gone to fair, O,
And we will to the merry green wood
To see what they do there, O,
And for to chase, O,
To chase the buck and doe.
Hal an Tow, Jolly rumble O
For we are up as soon as any day O
And fore to fetch the summer is come, O
And winter is a gone O
Where are those Spaniards
That make so great a boast O
For they shall eat the Gray Goose feather
And we shall eat the roast O
In every land O
The land where e’er we go
Hal an Tow, Jolly rumble O
For we are up as soon as any day O
And fore to fetch the summer is come, O
And winter is a gone O
God bless Aunt Mary Moses
And all her power and might, O
And send us peace in merry England
Both day and night O
And end us peace in Merry England
Both now and forever more O!
HELSTON’S FIRST CHARTER OF KING JOHN
15th April 1201
John, by the grace of God King of England, Lord of Ireland, Duke of Normandy and Aquitane, Count of Anjou, to the Arch-bishops, Bishops, Abbots, Earls, Barons, Justiciars, Sheriffs, and all Bailiffs, and to his faithful subjects, Greeting.
Know ye that we have granted and by our present charter have confirmed that our borough of Helston be a free borough, and that our burgesses of the same town have a gild merchant, and quittance throughout our whole land from toll, pontage, passage, stallage, lastage, and soilage, saving, in all things, the liberties of the city of London.
We grant also to them that they not be compelled to plead, except within their own borough, of matters or tenements belonging to their town, except in pleas belonging to our Crown, and in pleas concerning lands outside the borough.
We will, also, that they have all the other liberties and free customs which our burgesses of the castle of Launceston had in the time of King Henry our father, with the proviso that none of the aforesaid burgesses, unless he be resident in the aforesaid town of Helston, shall have these liberties.
These are the witnesses: W. Earl of Salisbury, W.Briwer, Robert of Turham, Robert of Tregoz, Simon of Pateshull, Ralph of Stoke, Eustace of Fauconberg.
Given by the hand of Simon, Archdeacon of Wells, at Cranborne, on the 15th day of April in the second year of our reign.
HELSTON’S SECOND CHARTER OF KING JOHN
18th April 1201
John, by the grace of God, etc
Know ye that we have granted and by our present writing have confirmed to our burgesses of Helston the town of Helston with its appurtenances, at farm, to have and to hold at the ancient and accustomed rent and £4 increase, so long as they serve us well and faithfully and pay their rent well, paying their rent by their own hands at our two Exchequers, namely, one half at Easter and the other half at Michaelmas.
And be it known that the increment shall be of such sort as is the rent.
Witness: Simon Pateshall, at Dorchester, on the 18th day of April.
Vel ‘vel dre Shaun Mcbride Rag y gows gans an Kernewec.
As always thanks to Shaun McBride for his help with the Kernewec.
.
Willo Fergus Kendall
.