Robin Hood — Text and Context
Edition facts
McSpadden's Robin Hood begins not with the outlaw's first robbery but with his childhood: Robert Fitzooth, son of a head forester, learns the longbow from his father and hears tales of Will o' the Green. His mother, of gentle birth, teaches him reading and courtly manners, yet the boy is happiest in the forest. This early tension—between the court and the greenwood—shapes the narrative. The excerpted archery contest, with its tenscore archers, split arrows, and targets like bristle hairbrushes, reveals a world where skill is measured in exact centers and where the King himself watches proudly.
The Greenwood vs. the Court
The opening chapters establish a clear contrast between two worlds. Robin's mother hopes for a courtly or abbey career; his father tells stories of bold outlaws feasting on King's deer. The boy's two playmates—Will Gamewell and Marian Fitzwalter—are separated by enmity between their fathers. Robin's white signal from a treetop summons Marian, but he cannot visit her castle. This division persists throughout: the forest is a place of freedom and danger, while the court and abbey represent authority and constraint. The archery contest later brings these worlds together, as the King presides over a tournament where outlaws might compete.
Archery as Precision and Spectacle
The archery contest is described with remarkable specificity. Targets are set at tenscore paces; each man's shaft bears a number; the best bowman in each band is chosen through three arrows per target. Tepus makes six exact centers in succession, Gilbert of the White Hand five, Clifton four. Arrows split wide open by successors, and a target after a round looks like a big bristle hairbrush. The prizes—twoscore golden pounds, silver pennies, a silver bugle—are listed alongside rewards for winning companies: Rhenish wine, English beer, fat harts from Dallom Lea. This level of detail grounds the legend in a concrete, competitive reality.
Voice and Narrative Framing
The narrator adopts a direct, old-fashioned tone, addressing the audience as "gentlemen" and using phrases like "I shall you tell" and "I ween." The story is framed as a tale told aloud, with interjections such as "Of all the fine shooting that morning, I have not now space to tell you." This oral quality suits the folklore genre. The narrative also includes precise historical markers—King Harry the Second, the year 1160, the forests of Sherwood and Barnesdale—that lend a pseudo-historical weight to the legendary material. The combination of ballad-like opening lines and detailed tournament rules creates a distinctive hybrid of romance and record.
Readers will find that McSpadden's version balances the outlaw's rebellious spirit with a strong sense of place and period. Pay attention to how the author weaves traditional ballads into the prose, and how the forest itself becomes a character—a refuge that tests loyalty and skill. The archery contest, with its exact centers and split arrows, rewards close reading for its technical detail.