I am delighted to welcome Peter Staveley to the History Jar today. We first began to correspond in 2018 on the subjects of William Rufus, the de Clare family, Walter Tirel and paucity of primary sources. At the time I didn’t realise where his researches were taking him. As with all things Robin Hood, history, legend and evidence are intertwined and open to interpretation. This is probably the point that I should add that I am completely biased on the subject because my dad used to read me a version based on the Geste of Robin Hood. It has nothing to do with evidence or being rational. It was my favourite book of all time, ever, and I can still hear my father’s voice beginning, “The little bandy-legged archer in a scarlet surcoat, and a shining helmet a size too large for him, skipped forward and shouted: ‘What d ye lack, sir?'”. I can’t describe how bitterly disappointed I was, aged 7, to discover that Nottingham Castle was no longer a medieval fortress but had been turned into a seventeenth century mansion thanks to the English Civil War and William Cavendish.

So without further ado over to Peter:

To delve into the myth of Robin Hood, we must start, ironically, with some myth-busting. The first ballads and gests, set in writing in the 15th century but based on earlier oral tales, make no mention of Robin Hood in the time of King Richard and Prince John (in fact the only monarch mentioned is a King Edward but not too much weight should be put on that either!). You will also find no Maid Marian, no Friar Tuck, no Crusades, no Merrie Men-led uprisings against Norman tyranny. Even the suggestion of robbing from the rich to give to the poor is only vaguely alluded to, it being more a case of stealing from the middle classes and church and keeping the proceeds! This Robin Hood was violent: picking fights with simple folk as well as nobles, slitting throats, cutting of heads with his sword (yes, he was also a fine swordsman) and sticking them onto his longbow.

In fact, all modern depictions of the forest-dwelling gentleman thief are far removed from his origin stories. Our current perceptions of Robin of Loxley (as he is sometimes known) and ‘related’ characters were formed a mere 206 years ago, first appearing in Walter Scott’s imaginative1819 novel lvanhoe, followed by American Howard Pyle’s very popular 1883 children’s book The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood. Finally, Hollywood and TV producers seized upon the Lincoln green-clothed figure and brought him into the 20th and 21st centuries, and yet still always firmly depicted at the end of the 12th.

Like millions around the world, these stories have held my fascination for years. But it was

the mystery behind the myriad contradicting variations of Robin that compelled me to take a proper look into the folklore. As I began to dig, not one candidate proffered by either academic or amateur over the last century – taken from surviving records with references to Hood, Hod, Hud and so on – seemed to be worthy inspiration for such an iconic legend. They were either petty criminals who had taken his name in the hope of being labelled a ‘good thief’ or were involved in major insurrections for or against the Crown.

Like a lightning bolt, it struck me that Robin had not been found simply because he was not there to be found. Or, more precisely, he was not ‘then’…So began the premise for my new book: ROBIN UnHOODed: And the Death of a King. My search has taken me further back in time than anyone else, to the oral-based stories that became locked into the psyche of the early medieval period. From these, it could be gleaned that I needed to look for a man from somewhere in South Yorkshire, possibly with connections to a Loxley village, perhaps with pretensions to a noble birth, yet having cause to be a fugitive, and likely in possession of the martial and personal skills to become a hero of the common people and, eventually, a legend. Surprising as it may seem, I uncovered just such a man. Furthermore, as recorded by none other than the contemporary Archbishop of Canterbury, this experienced assassin could, somewhat remarkably be placed in the New Forest at the same time that ‘Rufus’

– King William II- was killed there during a deer hunt – a conspiratorial assassination involving among others, Robin, Prince Henry and the de Clare brothers

It took several years for me to gather and examine – with a clinical eye – all the known documentation around this event. Just as surprisingly, I also found many persuasive connections between the untimely death of Rufus in the forest and this earlier Robin providing much smoke without fire and just too many coincidences by far.

Full of groundbreaking hypotheses, my studies encompass the likes of Guy of Gisborne, the Sheriff of Nottingham and Maid Marian, who they might have been, and how they fit into this new timeline. Finally, the death and resting place of the famous outlaw have also been muddied by vastly conflicting claims. What I explore and attempt to settle in the second part of my book are the reasons behind the fake grave in Kirklees Priory and precisely where my 11^th century contender could be laid to rest…and why. They lead us to previously unknown ecclesiastical involvement, with a murderous Prioress and her lover specifically identified. It is a true story just as potent and bloody as the original written offerings.

In summary, ROBIN UnHOODed: And the Death of a King presents you with a whole new world in a late 11th-century setting. It is a work of historical detection that shakes up our ideas about Robin Hood and unhoods the original man behind the legend. And the

findings are no less exciting or mesmerising than everything we thought we knew. 

ROBIN UnHOODed: And the Death of a King is published by Austin Macauley (www.austinmacauley.com), Paperback £16.99 (also available in hardback and Kindle from Amazon, Waterstones, WH Smith, Barnes and Noble and all good book retailers).