William of Cloudeslee

In the green forest of Englewood, in the “North Country”, not far from the fortified town of Carlisle, lived a merry band of outlaws. They were not villains, but sturdy archers and yeomen, whose outlawry had been caused only by shooting the king’s deer. The royal claim to exclusive hunting in the vast forests of Epping, Sherwood, Needwood, Barnesdale, Englewood, and many others seemed preposterous to the yeomen who lived on the borders of the forests, and they took their risks and shot the deer and ate it, convinced that they were wronging no one and risking only their own lives. Thus it happened that they were accused of that “crime”, which legally made them outlaws.

The outlaws of Englewood were under the headship of three famous archers, brothers-in-arms, who swore to stand by each other, though they were not brothers in blood. Their names were Adam Bell, William of Cloudeslee, and Clym of the Cleugh; and of the three William of Cloudeslee alone was married. His wife, fair Alice of Cloudeslee, lived in a strong house within the walls of Carlisle, with her three children, because they were not included in William’s outlawry. It was possible, therefore, for her to send her husband warning of any attack planned by the Sheriff of Carlisle on the outlaws, and she had saved him and his comrades from surprise several times already.

When the spring came, and the forest was beautiful with its fresh green leaves, William began to miss his home and family; he had not dared to go into Carlisle for some time, and it was more than six months since he had seen his wife’s face. So he announced his intention to his home, at the risk of capture by his old enemy the Sheriff. In vain his comrades tried to make him stay. Adam Bell especially urged him remain in the greenwood: “If the sheriff or the justice learn that you are in the town, your life will end soon. Stay with us, and we will fetch you tidings of your wife.”

William replied: “No, I must go myself; I cannot rest content with tidings only. If all is well I will return by tomorrow morning, and if I don’t you may be sure I am taken or killed; and I pray you guard my family well, if that be so.”

William made his way unobserved into the town and came to his wife’s house. It was shut, with doors strongly bolted, and he had to knock long on the window before his wife opened it to see who was the visitor. “Let me in quickly, my Alice,” he said. “I have come to see you and my three children. How have you been this long time?”

“Alas!” she replied, hurriedly letting him in, and bolting the door again, “why have you come now, risking your life to have news of us? Don’t you know that this house has been watched for more than six months, so eager are the sheriff and the justice to capture and hang you? I would have come to you in the forest, or sent you word of our welfare. I fear – oh, how I fear! – that they will know!”

“But now that I am here, let us be merry,” said William. “No man has seen me enter, and I would like enjoy my short stay with you and my children, for I must be back in the forest by morning. Can you not give a hungry outlaw some food and drink?”

Then Dame Alice prepared the best she had for her husband; and, when all was ready, it was a very happy family that sat down to the meal, husband and wife talking cheerfully together, while the children watched in wondering silence the father who had been away so long and came to them so seldom.

There was one inhabitant of the house who saw in William’s return a means of making shameful profit. She was an old bedridden woman, apparently paralysed, whom he had saved from complete poverty seven years before. During all that time she had lain on a bed near the fire, had shared all the life of the family, and had never once moved from her couch. Now, while husband and wife talked together and the room got dark, this old impostor slipped from her bed and glided quietly out of the house.

It happened that the king’s trial was being held just then in Carlisle, and the sheriff and his friend the justice were sitting together in the Justice Hall. There this treacherous old woman hurried with all speed. She entered the hall, forcing her way through the crowd till she came near the sheriff.

“Ha! what do you want, good woman?” asked he, surprised.

“Sir, I bring you news of great value.”

“Tell your news, and I shall see if they be of value or no. If they are, I will reward you handsomely.”

“Sir, this night William of Cloudeslee has come into Carlisle, and is even now in his wife’s house. He is alone, and you can take him easily. Now what will you pay me, for I am sure this news is much to you?”

“It’s true, good woman. That bold outlaw is the worst of all who kill the king’s deer in his forest of Englewood, and if only I could catch him, I would be well content. Dame, you shall not go without a reward!”

The old woman was given a piece of scarlet cloth, enough for a dress. She hid the gift under her cloak, hurried back to Alice’s house, and slipped unnoticed into her place again, hiding the scarlet cloth under the bed-coverings.

As soon as he had heard of Cloudeslee’s presence in Carlisle, the sheriff with all speed raised the whole town, for, though none hated the outlaws, men dared not to disobey the king’s officer. The justice, too, joined the sheriff in capturing an outlaw whose sentence was already pronounced. With all the forces at their disposal, they went towards the house where William and Alice, unconscious of the danger besetting them, still talked lovingly together. Suddenly the outlaw’s ears, sharpened by woodcraft and by constant danger, heard a growing noise coming nearer and nearer. It was, he knew, the sound of the footsteps of many people, and among them he recognised marching soldiers.

“Wife, we are betrayed,” cried William. “Here comes the sheriff to take me!”

Alice ran quickly up to her bedroom, opened a window looking to the back, and saw, to her despair, that soldiers beset the house on every side and filled all the neighbouring streets. Behind them was a great crowd of citizens, who seemed wanting to leave the capture of the outlaw to the soldiers. At the same moment William from the front called to his wife that the sheriff and justice were besieging the house on that side.

“Alas! dear husband, what shall we do?” cried Alice. “Accursed be all treason! But who could have betrayed you to your enemies? Go into my bedchamber, dear William, and defend yourself there, for it is the strongest room in the house. The children and I will go with you, and I will guard the door while you defend the windows.”

The plan was carried out, and while William took his stand by the window, Alice got an axe and stood by the door: “No man shall enter this door alive while I live!”

From the window Cloudeslee could see his mortal enemies, the justice and the sheriff; and drawing his good bow, he shot with deadly aim exactly at the breast of the justice. It was well for the latter that he wore a good chain-mail under his clothes; the arrow hit his breast and split in three.

“Cursed be the man that gave you that mail coat! You would have been a dead man now if your coat had been no thicker than mine,” said William.

“Surrender, Cloudeslee, and lay down your bow and arrows,” said the justice. “You cannot escape!”

“Never shall my husband surrender; it is evil advice you give,” exclaimed the brave wife from her post at the door.

The sheriff, who grew more and more angry as the hours passed on and Cloudeslee was not taken, now cried aloud: “Why do we waste time here? The man is an outlaw and his life is forfeit. Let us burn him and his house, and if his wife and children will not leave him, they shall all burn together, for it is their own choice.”

This cruel plan was soon carried out. Fire was set to the door and wooden shutters, and the flames spread fast; the smoke went up in thick clouds into the bedroom, where the little children, crouching on the ground, began to cry for fear.

“Alas! must we all die?” cried fair Alice, grieving for her children.

William opened the window and looked out, but there was no chance of escape; his enemies filled every street around the house. “Surely they will not touch my wife and children,” he thought; and, tearing the sheets from the bed, he made a rope, with which he let down to the ground his children and his crying wife.

He called aloud to the sheriff: “Sir Sheriff, I have trusted to you my chief treasures. For God’s sake do them no harm, but wreak all your wrath on me!”

Gentle hands received Alice and her babies, and friendly citizens led them from the house; but Alice went reluctantly, in great grief, knowing that her husband must be burnt with his house or taken by his enemies; if it was not for her children she would have stayed with him.

William continued his wonderful archery, never missing his aim, till all his arrows were spent, and the flames came so close that his bow was burnt in two. Blazing pieces were falling upon him from the burning roof, and the floor was hot beneath his feet. “An evil death is this!” thought he. “Better it were that I should take my sword and jump down among my enemies and so die fighting than stay here and let them see me burn.”

So he leaped lightly down, and fought so fiercely that he nearly escaped through the crowd, for the worthy citizens of Carlisle were not at all anxious to capture him; but the soldiers, urged by the sheriff and justice, threw doors and windows upon him, and finally caught and bound him, and cast him into a deep dungeon.

“Now, William of Cloudeslee,” said the sheriff, “you shall be hanged in no time, as soon as I can have a new gallows made. So famous an outlaw is worthy of not just a common hanging. Tomorrow morning you shall die. There is no hope of rescue, for the gates of the town shall be shut. Your dear friends, Adam Bell and Clym of the Cleugh, would be helpless to save you, even if they bring a thousand more people, or even all the devils in Hell.”

Early next morning the justice went to the soldiers who guarded the gates and forbade them to open till the execution was over; then he went to the market-place and superintended the building of a specially high gallows.

Among the crowd who watched the gallows being built there was a little lad, the town swineherd, who asked one of the watching citizens the meaning of the new construction.

“It is put up to hang a good yeoman, William of Cloudeslee, and that’s a pity! He has done no wrong but kill the King’s deer, and why should he be hanged for that? It is a shame that such injustice can be done in the king’s name.”

The little lad had often met William of Cloudeslee in the forest, and had carried him messages from his wife; William had given the boy many a dinner of deer, and now he decided to help his friend if he could. The gates were shut and no man could pass out, but the boy found a hole in the wall. Then he hastened to the forest of Englewood, and met Adam Bell and Clym of the Cleugh.

“Come quickly, good yeomen, before it’s too late. While you are at ease in the greenwood your friend, William of Cloudeslee, is taken, condemned to death, and ready to be hanged. He needs your help this very minute!”

Adam Bell groaned. “Ah! if he had taken our advice, he would have been here in safety with us now.” Then, bending his bow, he shot with unerring aim a deer, which he gave to the lad to recompense him for his labour and goodwill.

“Come,” said Clym to Adam Bell, “let us wait no longer, but take our bows and arrows and see what we can do. By God’s grace we will rescue our brother, though we may pay for it dearly ourselves. We will go to Carlisle without delay.”

The morning was fair as the two yeomen waked from the deep green shades of Englewood Forest along the hard white road leading to Carlisle Town. They were in time as yet, but when they came near the wall they were surprised to see that the gates were shut.

Stepping back into the green bushes beside the road, the two outlaws discussed their options. Adam Bell was for a valiant attempt to storm the gate, but Clym suddenly suggested a wiser plan.

“Let us pretend to be messengers from the king, with urgent letters to the justice. Surely that should let us in. But alas! I forgot. How can we bear out our pretence, for I am no learned clerk. I cannot write.”

Adam Bell said: “I can write well. Wait one instant, and I will have a letter written; then we can say we have the king’s seal. The plan will do well enough, for I believe the gate-keeper is no learned clerk, and this will deceive him.”

Indeed, the letter which he quickly wrote and folded and sealed was very well and clearly written, and addressed to the Justice of Carlisle. Then the two bold outlaws hurried up the road and knocked long and loud on the town gates. The warder came in great wrath, asking who dared to make such disturbance.

Adam Bell replied: “We are two messengers come straight from our lord the king.”

Clym of the Cleugh added: “We have a letter for the justice which we must deliver into his own hands. Let us in quickly so that we fulfil our task, for we must return to the king in haste.”

“No,” the warder replied, “that I cannot do. No man may enter these gates till the thief and outlaw William of Cloudeslee, who has long deserved death, is safely hanged.”

Now Clym saw that the situation was becoming desperate, and time was passing too quickly, so he spoke in a more violent tone. “Ah, rascal, scoundrel, madman! If we are delayed here any longer, you yourself shall be hanged for that thief! To keep the king’s messengers waiting like this! Can’t see the king’s seal? Can’t thou not read the address of the royal letter? Ah, you shall pay dearly for this delay when my lord knows of it.”

Thus speaking, he showed the forged letter, with its false seal, in the porter’s face; and the man, seeing the seal and the writing, believed what was told him. Reverently he took off his hood and bent the knee to the king’s messengers, for whom he opened wide the gates, and they entered.

“At last we are within Carlisle walls,” said Adam Bell, “but when and how we shall go out again Christ only knows.”

“Now if we had the keys ourselves we should have a good chance of life,” said Clym, “for then we could go in and out whenever we wanted.”

“Let us call the warder then.”

When he came running at their call both yeomen sprang upon him, flung him to the ground, bound him hand and foot, and cast him into a dark cell, taking his keys.

Adam laughed and shook the heavy keys. “Now I am gate-ward of merry Carlisle. See, here are my keys. I think I shall be the worst warder they have had for three hundred years. Let us bend our bows and hold our arrows ready, and walk into the town to save our brother.”

When they came to the market-place they found a huge crowd of sympathizers watching pityingly the hangman’s cart, in which lay William of Cloudeslee, bound hand and foot, with a rope round his neck. The sheriff and the justice stood near the gallows, and Cloudeslee would have been hanged already, but the sheriff ordered to measure the outlaw for his grave.

Cloudeslee’s courage was still with him. “I have seen it before now,” said he, “as a man who digs a grave for another may lie in it himself, in as short a time as from now to the next morning.”

“You speak proudly, my fine fellow, but hanged you shall be, even if I do it with my own hand,” replied the sheriff furiously.

Now the cart moved a little nearer to the scaffold, and William was raised up to be ready for execution. As he looked round the mass of faces his keen sight soon made him aware of his friends. Adam Bell and Clym of the Cleugh stood at one corner of the market-place with arrow on string, aiming at the sheriff and justice, whose horses raised them high above the murmuring throng. Cloudeslee showed no surprise, but said aloud: “Look! I see comfort, and hope to have a safe journey. Yet if I might have my hands free I would care little about what else befell me.”

Now Adam said quietly to Clym: “Brother, you take the justice, and I will shoot the sheriff. Let us both loose at once and leave them dying. It is an easy shot, though a long one.”

Thus, while the sheriff yet waited for William to be measured for his grave, suddenly men heard the twang of bows and the whistling flight of arrows through the air, and at the same moment both sheriff and justice fell from their horses, with the grey goose feathers in their breasts. The crowd fled from the dangerous neighbourhood, and left the gallows, the cart, and the mortally wounded officials alone. The two bold outlaws rushed to release their comrade, cut his bonds, and lifted him to his feet. William got an axe from a soldier and chased the fleeing guard, while his two friends with their deadly arrows killed a man at each shot.

When the arrows were all used Adam Bell and Clym of the Cleugh threw away their bows and took swords in their hands. The fight continued till midday, for in the narrow streets the three comrades protected each other, and slowly drew towards the gate. Bell still carried the keys, and they could pass out easily if they could just reach the gateway. By this time the whole town was in a commotion; and the Mayor of Carlisle himself came in person with a big group of armed citizens, angered now at the fighting in the streets of the town.

The three yeomen retreated as steadily as they could towards the gate, but the mayor followed them armed with an axe, with which he cut Cloudeslee’s shield in two. He soon realised what the object of the outlaws was, and told his men to guard the gates well, so that the three would not be able to escape.

The mess in the town now was terrible, for trumpets blew, church-bells rang, women cried over their dead in the streets, and over all there was the clash of arms, as the fighting drew nearer the gate. When the gatehouse came in sight the outlaws were fighting desperately. Their strength was leaving them, but the thought of safety outside the walls gave them force. With backs to the gate and faces to the enemies, Adam and Clym and William managed to frighten the townsfolk, who fled in terror, leaving a breathing-space in which Adam Bell turned the key, flung open the great gate, and closed it again, soon as the three had passed through.

The door was locked, and the three friends stood in safety outside, with their pleasant forest home within easy reach. The change of feeling was so intense that Adam Bell, always humorous, laughed lightly. He called to the citizens behind the gate:

“Here are your keys. I resign my job as warder – one half-day’s work is enough for me; and as I have resigned, I advise you to find a new one. Take your keys, and much good may you get from them. Next time I advise you not to stop an honest yeoman from coming to see his own wife and having a chat with her.”

He flung the keys over the gate on the heads of the crowd, and the three brothers ran away into the forest, where they found fresh bows and arrows in such abundance that they almost wanted to be back in Carlisle with their enemies before them.

While they were yet discussing all the details of the rescue they heard a woman’s dolorous lament and the crying of little children.

“Listen!” said Cloudeslee, and they all heard in the silence the words she said.

It was William’s wife, and she cried: “Alas! why did I not die before this day? Woe to me that my dear husband is killed! He is dead, and I have no friend to grieve with me. If only I could see his comrades and tell what has befallen him, my heart would be eased of some of its pain.”

William, as he listened, was deeply touched, and walked gently to fair Alice, as she hid her face in her hands and wept. “Welcome, wife, to the greenwood!” said he. “By heaven, I never thought to see you again when I lay in bonds last night.”

Dame Alice sprang up most joyously.

“Oh, William, all is well with me now you are here; I have no care or woe.”

“For that you must thank my dear brothers, Adam and Clym,” said he; and Alice began to thank them, but Adam cut short her expression of gratitude. “No need to talk about a little matter like that. If we want any supper we had better kill something, for the meat we must eat is still running in the forest.”

With three such good archers, game was easily shot and a meal was soon prepared in the wood. William devotedly served his wife with deepest love and reverence, for he could not forget how she had defended him and risked her life to stand by him.

When the meal was over, and they were resting round the fire, William began thoughtfully:

“It is in my mind that we should speedily to go to London and try to win our pardon from the king. Unless we approach him before news can be brought from Carlisle he will surely execute us. Let us go at once, leaving my dear wife and my two youngest sons in a covert here; but I would fain take my eldest boy with me. If all goes well he can bring good news to Alice to the nunnery which is here nearby, and if all goes badly he will bring her my last wishes. But I am sure I am not to die by the law.”

His brothers approved the plan, and they took fair Alice and her two youngest children to the nunnery, and then the three famous archers with the little boy of seven set out at the top of their speed for London, watching the passers-by carefully, so that no news of the doings in Carlisle should reach the king before them.

On arriving in London, they made their way at once to the king’s palace, and walked boldly into the hall, paying no attention to the astonished and indignant shouts of the royal porter. He followed them angrily into the hall, and began reproaching them and trying to make them go, but in vain.

Finally an usher came and said: “Yeomen, what is your wish? Pray tell me, and I will help you if I can; but if you enter the king’s presence thus unmannerly you will cause us to be blamed. Tell me now where you come from.”

William answered fearlessly: “Sir, we will tell you the whole truth. We are outlaws from the king’s forests, outlawed for killing the king’s deer, and we come to beg for pardon and a charter of peace, to show to the sheriff of our county.”

The usher went to an inner room to know whether the king would see them or not. The king was interested in these bold yeomen who dared to introduce themselves as law-breakers, and asked to bring them to audience with him. The three comrades, with the little boy, on being introduced into the royal presence, knelt down and held up their hands, begging for pardon for their offences.

“Sir, we ask for your pardon for our breach of your laws. We are forest outlaws, who have killed your deer in many parts of your royal forests.”

“Your names? Tell me at once,” said the king.

“Adam Bell, Clym of the Cleugh, and William of Cloudeslee,” they replied.

The king was furious.

“Are you those bold robbers of whom men have told me? How dare you to come to me for pardon? You shall all three be hanged without mercy, as I am crowned king of England. Arrest and bind them!”

There was no resistance possible. Bell was the first to speak. “As I hope to live, this game pleases me not at all,” he said. “Sir, be merciful, we beg you to remember that we came to you of our own free will. Please let us pass away again freely. We ask no more; we shall never ask another favour, however long we live.”

The king did not change his mind, however; he only replied: “You speak proudly, but you shall all three be hanged.”

The queen, who was sitting beside her husband, now spoke for the first time. “Sir, it is a pity that such good yeomen should die, if they might be pardoned.”

“There is no pardon,” said the king.

She then replied: “My lord, when I first left my native land and came into this country as your bride, you promised to grant me at once the first favour I would ask for. I have never needed to ask one until today, but now, sir, I claim one, and I beg you to provide it.”

“With all my heart; ask your favour, and it shall be yours.”

“Then, I pray you, promise me not to take the lives of these good yeomen.”

“Madam, you might have had half my kingdom, and you ask a worthless trifle.”

“Sir, it seems not worthless to me; I beg you to keep your promise.”

“Madam, it worries me that you have asked so little; yet, since you want these three outlaws, take them.”

The queen rejoiced greatly. “Many thanks, my lord and husband. I will be surety for them that they shall be good men since now on. But, good my lord, give them a word of comfort, that they may not be wholly aggrieved by your anger.”

The king smiled at his wife. “Ah, madam! you will have your own way, as all women will. Go, fellows, wash yourselves, and find places at the tables, where you shall dine well enough, even if it is not venison from the king’s own forests.”

The outlaws bowed to the king and queen, and found seats with the king’s guard at the lower tables in the hall. They were still satisfying their appetites when a messenger came in haste to the king; and the three North Countrymen looked at one another uneasily, for they knew that the man was from Carlisle. The messenger knelt before the king and gave the latter his letters. “Sir, your officers greet you.”

“How are they? How is my valiant sheriff? And the prudent justice? Are they well?”

“Alas! my lord, they have been killed, and many other good officers with them.”

“Who did this?” questioned the king angrily.

“My lord, the three bold outlaws are responsible, Adam Bell, Clym of the Cleugh, and William of Cloudeslee.”

“What! these three whom I have just pardoned? Ah, I wish that I had not forgiven them! I would give a thousand pounds if I could have them hanged all three; but I cannot.”

As the king read the letters his anger and surprise increased. It seemed impossible that three men should overturn the whole town, killing sheriff, justice, mayor, and nearly all officials, forge a royal letter with the king’s seal, and then lock the gates and escape safely. There was no doubt of the fact, however, and the king raged in vain against his own foolish mercy in giving them pardon. It had been granted, however, and he could do nothing but grieve over the ruin they had done in Carlisle. At last he sprang up, for he could endure the banquet no longer.

“Call my archers,” he commanded. “I will see these bold outlaws shoot, and try if their archery is so fine as men say.”

Accordingly the king’s and queen’s archers got ready themselves, and the three yeomen took their bows and went to where the targets were set up. The archers shot in turn, aiming at an ordinary target, but Cloudeslee soon grew tired of this childish sport, and said aloud: “I shall never call a man a good archer who shoots at a target as large as this. We have another sort of target in my country, and that is worth shooting at.”

“Make ready with your own targets,” the king commanded, and the three outlaws went to a bush in a field close by and returned with hazel rods, peeled and shining white. These rods they set up at four hundred yards apart, and, standing by one, they said to the king: “We should account a man a good archer if he can split one rod while standing beside the other.”

“It cannot be done; the distance is too great,” exclaimed the king.

“Sir, I can easily do it,” said Cloudeslee, and, taking aim very carefully, he shot, and the arrow split the rod in two.

“In truth,” said the king, “you are the best archer I have ever seen. Can you do greater wonders?”

“Yes,” replied Cloudeslee, “one thing more I can do, but it is more difficult. Nevertheless I will try it, to show you our North Country shooting.”

“Try, then,” the king replied; “but if you fail you shall be hanged without mercy, because of your boasting.”

“I have a son, a dear son, of seven years of age. I will place an apple on his head. Then from a distance of a hundred and twenty yards I will split the apple in two with an arrow.”

“By heaven!” the king cried, “that is dreadful. But do as you have said, or, by Christ, I will hang you. If you touch one hair of his head, or the edge of his clothes, I will hang you and your two companions.”

“I have never broken my promise,” said the North Country bowman, and he at once made ready for the terrible trial. A stake was set in the ground, and the boy was tied to it, with his face turned from his father, in case he should give a start and destroy his aim. Cloudeslee then counted hundred and twenty yards, felt his string, bent his bow, chose his broadest arrow, and fitted it with care.

It was an anxious moment. The spectators felt sick with expectation, and many women cried and prayed for the father and his innocent son. But Cloudeslee showed no fear. He addressed the crowd in a serious voice: “Good folk, stand all as still as you can. For such a shot a man needs a steady hand, and your movements may destroy my aim and make me kill my son. Pray for me.”

Then, in an unbroken silence, the bold marksman shot, and the apple fell to the ground, split into two absolutely equal halves. A cheerful cry from every spectator burst forth loudly. Finally, the king asked for silence.

“God forbid that I should ever be your target,” said he. “You shall be my chief forester in the North Country, with daily wage, and daily right of killing venison; your two brothers shall become yeomen of my guard, and I will take care of your family in every way.”

The queen smiled gently at William, and she urged him to bring his wife, fair Alice, to court, to take up the post of chief woman of the bedchamber to the royal children.

Overwhelmed with these favours, the three yeomen became more aware of their own offences. So they went to a holy bishop, who heard their confessions, gave them penance and told them to go and sin no more. After they visited Englewood Forest and dissolved the outlaw band, they came back to the royal court, and spent the rest of their lives in great favour with the king and queen.