Fuel could be had in
profusion when fire was needed. For winter shelter there were many
caverns, for Sherwood forest is remarkable for its number of such places
of refuge, some made by nature, others excavated by man.
Happy must have been the life in this greenwood realm, jolly the outlaws
who danced and sang beneath its shades, merry as the day was long their
hearts while summer ruled the year, while even in drear winter they had
their caverns of refuge, their roaring wood-fires, and the spoils of the
year's forays to carry them through the season of cold and storm. A
follower of bold Robin might truly sing, with Shakespeare,--
"Under the greenwood tree,
Who loves to lie with me,
And tune his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see
No enemy,
But winter and rough weather."
But the life of the forest-dwellers was not spent solely in enjoyment of
the pleasures of the merry greenwood. They were hunted by men, and
became hunters of men. True English hearts theirs, all Englishmen their
friends, all Normans their foes, they were in no sense brigands, but
defenders of their soil against the foreign foe who had overrun it, the
successors of Hereward the Wake, the last of the English to bear arms
against the invader, and to keep a shelter in which the English heart
might still beat in freedom.
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