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Robin, being grievously sick, went to his cousin, Prioress of Kirklees, who had great fame for the letting of blood. He was welcomed and his vein opened forthwith. But finding himself locked in, faint and with no means of staunching the flow, he scented treachery. Feebly he sounded his horn. But Little John was listening and burst doors to reach him. From his comrade's arms Robin shot a broad arrow through the window, saying: "Bury me where it falls." And there they buried him, as he wished, with his bow at his side and a green turf under his head.

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14y ago

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