Robin Hood & Cunning Prince John

JAMES WATSON writes: it was always my ambition to write something about ROBIN HOOD; and eventually I got round to writing a fun-adventure, the first scene I am offering here. The size of the cast suggests it is aimed at schools or youth theatre - for play-reading or production. It could be performed outdoors and there's the opportunity for using filmed scenes. The play captures and extends some of the comic spirit in my published plays, BANNED! TOM PAINE, THIS WAS YOUR LIFE and GOTCHA! WARS-R-US.COM (Collins Educational). I would be happy to make it available for professional or amateur production. Here goes ROBIN HOOD: THE PLAY Or How Prince John Pitted His Wits Against the Outlaws of Sherwood Forest Characters in order of appearance Marian Fitzwalter Eleanor de Luce Alan-a-Dale Dame Prioress of Kirklees Sister Agnes Isambarde de Beleme Abbot Hugo of St Mary’s Will Scarlett Much the Miller’s Son Sebald Cerdic Swayn Edred Rufus Little John Robin Hood Friar Tuck Prince John, brother of King Richard Lady Reinault, wife of Sheriff Reinault Sheriff Reinault Sir Roger, High Steward of Baron Beleme Jailer Sir Robert Fitzwalter, a prisoner of Beleme Sir Ralph of Meden Dale, betrothed to Eleanor Hubert of Wisbech, bowman to Sheriff Reinault Henry (the Squint) of Driencourt, bowman to Prince John Lofty and Shorty, servants The Green Man Plus soldiers, dancers and members of the crowd attending the Tournament of the Silver Arrow. 29 speaking parts SSCENE 1 Music,as the play opens. Kirklees Abbey; a walled garden with a wrought-iron gate entrance in the centre of the rear wall. There are plants in tall pots and a bench

inside a small pergola. ELEANOR is standing looking out of the gate and MARIAN is sitting on the bench. The view through the gate is on to fields and trees and the outline of low hills. MARIAN: Is he coming, Eleanor? ELEANOR: I told him not to. If the Prioress ever finds out – MARIAN: She’ll hang his guts from the church steeple. Oh stop worrying, Elly. ELEANOR: I love him, Marian. I want him to come and I don’t want him to come, it is so dangerous. MARIAN: Dangerous? – good… I’m so bored. Bored out of my mind. If I don’t get some pleasure in life I shall…go into the greenwood and join Robin Hood’s merry band of cutthroats. ELEANOR: Excitedly. He’s here. She opens the gate as ALAN-A-DALE appears, a lute over his shoulder. He is gaily dressed as becomes a troubadour. Alan-a-Dale, you’ve become Alan-a-Delay – what kept you? They embrace. MARIAN: Impatiently. This is a place of God, you know. ALAN: As the lovers detach themselves. My apologies. Crosses himself and looks up to heaven.…It’s been so long since – MARIAN: Two days. ALAN: Two weeks! ELEANOR: And two days – MARIAN: Oh, and no doubt five hours forty-two and three-quarter seconds. Alan – what news of the world? She takes his arm and that of Eleanor and walks to the bench in the pergola. ALAN: He slips his lute from his shoulder, strums a single chord. I bought a new string for my lute. A gradely wench at Nottingham market offered me a Melton Mowbray pie in return for a love-song. ELEANOR: I trust your heart wasn’t in it, Alan. ALAN: Indeed no, my love, for as my tongue dallied with the succulent meat, all my thoughts were of you. MARIAN: Crow’s crap, Alan. Now, what of this Robin Hood everyone talks about? Who robbed my guardian, Abbot Hugo of his fat wallet, who despatched his steward, Guy of Gisborne and all his soldiers naked out of the forest? ELEANOR: Marian, it is dangerous even to talk of this Robin Hood. Sheriff de Reinault has offered a reward of 50 gold marks for his capture. ALAN: And two apiece for his outlaws. MARIAN: Surely there are at least ten marks on the head of the holy man, Friar Tuck, as he should know better than to consort with vagabonds. ELEANOR: They say Tuck is eight feet wide and can eat a roast boar at one sitting. MARIAN: Yes, and drink twenty flagons of ale without passing water. ELEANOR: Marian! MARIAN: Oh yes, and Robin can split a willow at a hundred paces…Tall stories, Eleanor. That’s the magic of Sherwood. Outlaws go in, heroes ride out. I guess the truth of it is that poor Tuck can scarcely fill his robe – ELEANOR: And Robin, must he be as plain as a whistle –? MARIAN: Yes, and incapable of hitting a target at twenty paces – why not? But I say, let’s the three of us take a ride into Sherwood and find out. ALAN: Who consorts with outlaws, my lady, becomes an outlaw. MARIAN: Who’ll tell? The leaves in the forest, will they whisper it to the Sheriff? Will the squirrels’ chatter be overheard in Nottingham? ELEANOR: The King’s deer might tell tales: Robin Hood and his band have hunted so many of them. ALAN: These days Sherwood is wick with soldiers searching for Robin. Only this week four lads from Yorkshire were caught carrying a slain deer back to their village. They were hanged from Lord Beleme’s castle walls before nightfall. There is an uneasy pause. The youngest was but seven. MARIAN: Stands. Beleme? Isambard de Beleme, of Evil Hold? ALAN: Uneasy. Who else, Marian?

MARIAN: My suitor. She raises her hand. For this. ELEANOR: And your fortune, dearie. MARIAN: My poor dead father’s fortune. She paces, wildly. I’d rather jump from his castle walls. She stops, shrugs, chuckles. Except that I’ve no head for heights. But we were talking of Robin Hood, with his bold exploits putting innocent people in danger. He makes fools of the Sheriff and his brother the Abbot; makes even Prince John hopping mad, and what happens? The people’s tax is doubled. They’re driven out of their homes. ALAN: He puts people at risk, yes. But at least he makes sure that the poor are fed. MARIAN: Now where have I heard that before? – robbing the rich to give to the poor? ELEANOR: But Marian – MARIAN: Where’s the evidence or is it just another tall story? She paces, turns. The only way we’ll be able to test the truth of all this – is to meet him. You can arrange it, surely, Alan-a-Dale. ALAN: The forest is not safe, Marian, but if you wish at first merely to set eyes on Robin, I suggest there’s an opportunity at the Great Tournament in Nottingham, which the Sheriff is holding in honour of Prince John’s visit. The archery contest will draw the best bowman in England. MARIAN: Ah yes, tempted by the Prince’s silver arrow, worth King Richard’s ransom if only John would pawn it. And of course Robin Hood will be there. Don’t tell me, he will go in disguise. A poor hobbling beggar, maybe. She pretends to be the beggar leaning on a stick. Or he’ll borrow Friar Tuck’s robe and stomp along like an overfed cleric. Again, an imitation, which makes Eleanor and Alan laugh. Do you know, I might consider entering the tournament myself. ALAN: My Lady Marian does fire a good arrow. Coughs. For a woman. ELEANOR: Suddenly alert, turning. Voices! She darts to the far side of the stage and looks into the wings, right. The Prioress! MARIAN: With my guardian, no doubt. ELEANOR: Away, Alan. It’s the Abbot and My Lord Beleme. MARIAN: I’ll grant Old One-Eye this – he’s persistent. Alan and Eleanor embrace at the gate. And Alan? ALAN: My lady? MARIAN: I mean what I say about that ride into Sherwood. Alan departs, while Marian and Eleanor dart back to sit on the bench in the pergola, Eleanor to pick up and continue with her crocheting, Marian to return with the book she had been reading.She examines it, glances at the audience. MARIAN: I wonder, did we have printed books in our day? She shrugs. A brief return of the music which opened the scene. This fades as the Lady Prioress speaks. PRIORESS: Entering with ABBOT HUGO, his clerical garb of luxurious material and BARON ISAMBARD DE BELEME, who wears a black patch over one eye. They are at their breviaries, My Lords. Following modestly behind is SISTER AGNES. Thanks to the good offices of Sister Agnes, they do our abbey proud with their prayers and the purity of their thoughts – is that not so, Sister Agnes? SISTER AGNES: Knowing this not to be the case, and with a glance at the audience. Purity and demurity, My Lady, nothing could better describe them. She turns her back on the audience and demonstrates crossed fingers. ABBOT HUGO: Demurity? PRIORESS: The epitome of modesty, My Lords. BELEME: It is not what I have heard, Lady Prioress. ABBOT HUGO: Clears his throat embarrassedly. Marian, my dear… MARIAN: Stands, approaches, curtsies, feigning modestly; glances respectfully at Beleme, kisses her guardian’s hand. My Lords, good day to you. Is it not a bright and breezy morning? In fact it would be perfect but for the crows blobbing all over the lawn.

PRIORESS: Marian! HUGO: Such high spirits, My Lord Beleme. To Marian. Now, my dear… MARIAN: I am not ‘dear’, Lord Abbot. For I have not the liberty of a deer. Sister Agnes giggles. PRIORESS: No tittering, Sister Agnes, or you will return to your cell until evensong. AGNES: Curtsies. A tickle in my throat, My Lady. Marian and Agnes exchange knowing smiles. HUGO: Shaking his head. Marian is…a little, er, headstrong, My Lord Beleme…But that you know all too well. BELEME: Good day, Lady Marian. MARIAN: It was, but it isn’t now, that is if your mission is the same as it was on your last visit. PRIORESS: Marian, I would urge a degree of respect. MARIAN: Which I would show, Prioress, if any respect were shown to me. BELEME: Madam, my offer is sincerely made, and with respect. MARIAN: You seek my lands, My Lord. My inheritance. BELEME: Whatever is mine will be yours, My Lady. HUGO: Good heavens, Marian, are you blind to the honour My Lord Beleme offers you by marriage? MARIAN: His reputation, My Lord Abbot, has gone before him. For cruelty, for driving good people into poverty, snatching their fields, taxing them till they have nothing left to eat. PRIORESS: Shocked. Those are scurrilous words, Marian. You should be ashamed. After all, it is thanks to Baron Beleme’s generosity that our chapel roof was restored. AGNES: And the new gate for the pig-sty. Another meaningful glance between Agnes and Marian. The porkers are so grateful. PRIORESS: Sensing she is being made fun of by Agnes. Yes, well – exactly! We are indebted to My Lord. MARIAN: All from the monies of those whose lands he has seized. HUGO: Silence, silence, you ungrateful wench. You shame the memory of your father, good Sir Robert. He crosses himself. MARIAN: His memory? What have I left to remember him by – that he abandoned his only child to your mercies, My Lord, in order to fight a stupid war on a foreign field? HUGO: You speak disrespectfully of King Richard’s Holy Crusade, My Lady. MARIAN: Bunkum. My father was foolish enough to follow a king who would rather kill the Saracen than stay and govern his people wisely. HUGO: His reward was unconditional forgiveness for his sins, and a place in heaven. MARIAN: Yes, as you advised him, Lord Abbot. ELEANOR: Warningly. Marian! MARIAN: It’s the truth – why not say it? And who, my lords, has Richard with the heart of a lion and the brains of an ox, left to misgovern in his place? – the spiteful and conniving Prince John. PRIORESS: Marian, may the Lord forgive you! Sister Agnes looks to heaven and crosses herself. BELEME: Aside to Hugo. Methinks the maid speaks a little treason. PRIORESS: Forgiveness, not bitterness, Marian, should rule your heart. HUGO: That your father was drowned as he crossed the Channel on his way to join King Richard was a tragedy. But it is sacrilege to storm at God’s will. The turbulence that has driven Marian’s anger fades. Now sadly she returns to the bench, sits. MARIAN: I shall not be married, My Lords, to Baron Beleme or anyone else who is not of my choosing. HUGO: You would be wise to observe the facts, My Lady. When your father’s ship foundered, it took with it arms and stores to the sum of 7000 gold marks – my loan

to your good father. And regardless of the fact that Sir Robert now reaps the reward of eternal bliss, those 7000 marks have yet to be paid. MARIAN: With my body and soul, I suppose. HUGO: Marian, your body and your soul, not to mention the stomach I feed, the roof over your head for which I pay good rent, are under my protection. Have you no gratitude? MARIAN: You also draw the rents from my father’s lands, Lord Abbot. You sell our grain at market: it is a goodly bargain. As for my protection, what do you protect – my freedom to come and go? I am under arrest here. I cannot ride out unless I have your written permission. Or take one step outside these walls. HUGO: You are safe – be grateful! MARIAN: Safe? With renewed vigour. And if this outlaw Robin Hood snatches me from my room in dead of night, can you guarantee he’ll not have his way with me in Sherwood Forest? ELEANOR: Marian! HUGO: I want no talk of Robin Hood. MARIAN: I hear he robbed you of a not inconsiderable sum, My Lord. AGNES: Blurting out. A straight thousand, the Forester said…oops, sorry! Curtsies. apologetically to the Prioress. My Lady! BELEME: Clears his throat to draw attention. At this moment, My Lady Marian, Robin Hood will have committed his last crime in Sherwood. MARIAN: Oh? Intrigued. You have captured him, My Lord? BELEME: Let us say that he and his merry men will be walking into a trap from which there will be no escape. Turns to Hugo. But My Lord Abbot… HUGO: Of course, of course. To business. Marian, enough of this stubbornness, this scullery talk. MARIAN: The answer to your question, My Lords, is the same whether it is in the scullery or My Lord Belleme’s infamous dungeons: no, no, no! HUGO: The matter is agreed. MARIAN: You will stretch me on the rack, my Lord Abbot? ELEANOR: Marian, this is – oh Marian! MARIAN: Turning on her friend. What, Eleanor, would you have me sacrifice my future as you have done, committing yourself to a doddery old fool, simply because he owns half of Lincolnshire? HUGO: Sir Ralph of Meden Dale would be a prize for any woman, albeit that he has seen better days and better health. MARIAN: Elly – he’s seventy if he’s a day. And he dribbles! PRIORESS: Marian! Agnes giggles once more but conceals it from the Prioress. You should take your friend as an example, for Lady Eleanor de Luce knows obedience. ELEANOR: Sadly, wearily. A promise is a promise, though it was never made by me. HUGO: Duty is the only promise, My Lady. And devotion to your master. MARIAN: What nonsense you men talk! Eleanor was bullied into this marriage while she, like me, mourned the death of her father. ELEANOR: No more of that, Marian. Please! MARIAN: So it’s Marian Fitzwalter alone who must suffer your thumbscrews, Baron Beleme. She holds up her hands. Huh, like one Olaf I knew, who’d found a dead partridge in the woods and taken it to feed his starving family. Oh yes, My Lord Beleme, torture me by all means…but marry you, I will not. HUGO: Apologetically turns to Beleme, shrugs. My Lord… BELEME: I will have her. I am resolved. Our bargain stands. MARIAN: Bargain? Bargain? My Lord Abbot, what bargain is this? ELEANOR: Marian, I think – MARIAN: What bargain, My Lords? What am I being traded for? – you crooks, what fiddles have you been up to behind my back? HUGO: Nothing, nothing! BELEME: Who cares if the shrew knows? For forty of my fighting men – that is the bargain as you call it, Maid Marian. Forty men to assist the abbot and his brother Sheriff Reinault in clearing Sherwood of Robin Hood and his bandits. His head for

your maidenhood. HUGO: Er, I wouldn’t put it so – MARIAN: Brutally? BELEME: I speak as I act, madam. My wedding gift will be to hang the outlaws, every jack-rabbit of them. Contemptuously. And while I, Isambard de Beleme, have my way with you, as you put it, the same crows that blob on your lawn will pick out the eyes of Bold Robin and His Merry Men. HUGO: My Lord! BELEME: About to storm away. The matter is agreed. Lord Abbot. I shall have this woman to wife even if I must carry her back in irons. PRIORESS: It will be with Prince John’s blessing, Marian. BELEME: On the day of the Tournament in his honour, you and I, Marian Fitzwalter, will kneel at the altar, and from thenceforth you will kneel before me when I command it. HUGO: Seven days, Marian. In the meantime, Dame Prioress has instructions to keep you under lock and key. PRIORESS: Sister Agnes? AGNES: Dame Prioress? PRIORESS; Escort them within. And bring me the key. MARIAN: To Beleme, stepping towards him. Perhaps I have spoken too hastily, My Lord, and with a passion that arises more from grief at the loss of my father, than is courteous. She curtsies, almost with demurity. HUGO: At last, Marian, you are talking sense! PRIORESS: Indeed, indeed! MARIAN: I should show respect – for my elders, for my betters…for my Lord. HUGO: Precisely! PRIORESS: Indubitably, child! MARIAN: Moves closer to Beleme. My Lord! Belied, he stoops towards her. Suddenly she reaches out and draws Beleme’s sword, darts back, swishes the sword in the air, scarcely inches below Beleme’s throat. MARIAN: Back, my lord, unless you wish to lose your head as well your one good eye. HUGO: Marian, what is this wickedness? MARIAN: You too, my benevolent protector. She flicks the blade of the sword. Unless you wish me to show the world what you hide beneath your silken gown wrought from good men’s wages. HUGO: I think you had better summon your guards, My Lord. BELEME: Shakes his head, laughs though with little humour. I think not, my Lord Abbot. In this mood, our fair witch would probably have the better of them. He raises his hands as if in capitulation. Madam will have her way, it seems. She will find her temper matches mine. Today, the victory is yours. For the rest of our married life, it will be mine… My weapon, if you please. MARIAN Hurls the sword into the wings. Find it where it falls, My Lord. She takes Eleanor’s hand. Derisively. Good day to you…Gentlemen! She slips her arms through Eleanor’s. Lead on, Sister Agnes, lest My Lady Prioress demands of you a thousand Hail Maries before supper. AGNES: Giggling. Marian, you are a one! They leave stage right. From off stage, Marian kicks Beleme’s sword in his direction. MARIAN: Off. You will need that and more, My Lord, if you are to stalk Robin Hood in his lair. HUGO: Retrieves the sword, hands it to Beleme who replaces it in its scabbard. You may wish to think again, My Lord. My lady Marian is a bird with fire for wings. BELEME: A bird well worth the plucking, My Lord Abbot. The woman amuses me. If our sons have half her spirit and her good looks, I shall be fortunate. But there is a matter to be settled. HUGO: A matter? Turns to the Prioress. Dame Prioress – if you please.

PRIORESS: Of course, My Lord. She exits right. HUGO: The matter, Baron? BELEME: At your behest, Hugo… Marian’s father has been prisoner in my dungeons since he was shipwrecked and rescued in the Channel a twelve-month ago. Should she get a breath of his existence – HUGO: Until the Feast of St. Swithin, my good lord. Then it will not matter, though by that time – if the repute of your dungeons is anything to go by – Sir Robert will have truly joined his Lord and Maker. BELEME: Of that I am not certain, My Lord Abbot. I see in Sir Robert the same indomitable spirit shown by his daughter. Two of a kind. The more you prod them, the more resistant they become. HUGO: I am sure your high steward, Roger, he they call The Cruel, will find a way. BELEME: And if Marian discovers such a murder? HUGO: My Lord, how could she? None but you and I know Sir Robert’s true identity. Come, Baron, long before St. Swithin’s Eve, you will be man and wife, master and slave. And unless the debt of 7000 gold marks is paid, Sir Robert’s fortune, Marian’s inheritance, are mine and yours to be equally divided. BELEME: Shaking his head. Hugo, of the two of us, you are the mightier villain. HUGO: Smiling. I will take that, My Lord, as a compliment. He links his arm in Beleme’s and they leave through the central rear gate of the priory. I think this sets the tone of what is to follow - Marian being feisty and rash. We shall shortly meet a fairly bold Robin, a wickedly cunning Prince John and all will ultimately be resolved at the Tournament of the Silver Arrow.