For even this day, toward evening, when the sun falleth low, he shall
be hanged, fourscore rods from the great town gate of Nottingham,

where three roads meet; for there the Sheriff sweareth he shall
die as a warning to all outlaws in Nottinghamshire. But yet,

I say again, Alas! For, though Robin Hood and his band may be outlaws,
yet he taketh only from the rich and the strong and the dishonest man,

while there is not a poor widow nor a peasant with many children,
nigh to Sherwood, but has barley flour enough all the year long

through him. It grieves my heart to see one as gallant as this
Stutely die, for I have been a good Saxon yeoman in my day, ere I

turned palmer, and well I know a stout hand and one that smiteth
shrewdly at a cruel Norman or a proud abbot with fat moneybags.

Had good Stutely's master but known how his man was compassed
about with perils, perchance he might send succor to bring him

out of the hand of his enemies.
"Ay, marry, that is true," cried the young man. "If Robin and his men

be nigh this place, I wot right well they will strive to bring him forth
from his peril. But fare thee well, thou good old man, and believe me,

if Will Stutely die, he shall be right well avenged."
Then he turned and strode rapidly away; but the Palmer looked

after him, muttering, "I wot that youth is no country hind that hath
come to see a good man die. Well, well, perchance Robin Hood

is not so far away but that there will be stout doings this day."
So he went upon his way, muttering to himself.

When David of Doncaster told Robin Hood what the Palmer had said to him,
Robin called the band around him and spoke to them thus:

"Now let us get straightway into Nottingham Town and mix ourselves
with the people there; but keep ye one another in sight, pressing as near

the prisoner and his guards as ye can, when they come outside the walls.
Strike no man without need, for I would fain avoid bloodshed, but if ye

do strike, strike hard, and see that there be no need to strike again.
Then keep all together until we come again to Sherwood, and let no man

leave his fellows."
The sun was low in the western sky when a bugle note sounded from

the castle wall. Then all was bustle in Nottingham Town and crowds
filled the streets, for all knew that the famous Will Stutely was to be

hanged that day. Presently the castle gates opened wide and a great
array of men-at-arms came forth with noise and clatter, the Sheriff,

all clad in shining mail of linked chain, riding at their head.
In the midst of all the guard, in a cart, with a halter about his neck,

rode Will Stutely. His face was pale with his wound and with loss
of blood, like the moon in broad daylight, and his fair hair was

clotted in points upon his forehead, where the blood had hardened.
When he came forth from the castle he looked up and he looked down,

but though he saw some faces that showed pity and some that showed
friendliness, he saw none that he knew. Then his heart sank within

him like a plummet of lead, but nevertheless he spoke up boldly.
"Give a sword into my hand, Sir Sheriff," said he, "and wounded man though

I be, I will fight thee and all thy men till life and strength be gone."
"Nay, thou naughty varlet," quoth the Sheriff, turning his head and looking

right grimly upon Will Stutely, "thou shalt have no sword but shall die
a mean death, as beseemeth a vile thief like thee."

"Then do but untie my hands and I will fight thee and thy men
with no weapon but only my naked fists. I crave no weapon,

but let me not be meanly hanged this day."
Then the Sheriff laughed aloud. "Why, how now," quoth he,

"is thy proud stomach quailing? Shrive thyself, thou vile knave,
for I mean that thou shalt hang this day, and that where three

roads meet, so that all men shall see thee hang, for carrion
crows and daws to peck at."

"O thou dastard heart!" cried Will Stutely, gnashing his
teeth at the Sheriff. "Thou coward hind! If ever my good

master meet thee thou shalt pay dearly for this day's work!
He doth scorn thee, and so do all brave hearts. Knowest thou

not that thou and thy name are jests upon the lips of every
brave yeoman? Such a one as thou art, thou wretched craven,

will never be able to subdue bold Robin Hood."
"Ha!" cried the Sheriff in a rage, "is it even so?

Am I a jest with thy master, as thou callest him?
Now I will make a jest of thee and a sorry jest withal,

for I will quarter thee limb from limb, after thou art hanged."
Then he spurred his horse forward and said no more to Stutely.

At last they came to the great town gate, through which Stutely
saw the fair country beyond, with hills and dales all clothed

in verdure, and far away the dusky line of Sherwood's skirts.
Then when he saw the slanting sunlight lying on field and fallow,

shining redly here and there on cot and farmhouse, and when he heard
the sweet birds singing their vespers, and the sheep bleating upon

the hillside, and beheld the swallows flying in the bright air,
there came a great fullness to his heart so that all things blurred

to his sight through salt tears, and he bowed his head lest the folk
should think him unmanly when they saw the tears in his eyes.

Thus he kept his head bowed till they had passed through the gate
and were outside the walls of the town. But when he looked up again

he felt his heart leap within him and then stand still for pure joy,
for he saw the face of one of his own dear companions of merry Sherwood;

then glancing quickly around he saw well-known faces upon all
sides of him, crowding closely upon the men-at-arms who were

guarding him. Then of a sudden the blood sprang to his cheeks,
for he saw for a moment his own good master in the press and,

seeing him, knew that Robin Hood and all his band were there.
Yet betwixt him and them was a line of men-at-arms.

"Now, stand back!" cried the Sheriff in a mighty voice, for the crowd pressed
around on all sides. "What mean ye, varlets, that ye push upon us so?

Stand back, I say!"
Then came a bustle and a noise, and one strove to push between the men-at-arms

so as to reach the cart, and Stutely saw that it was Little John that made
all that stir.

"Now stand thou back!" cried one of the men-at-arms whom Little John pushed
with his elbows.

"Now stand thou back thine own self," quoth Little John, and straightway smote
the man a buffet beside his head that felled him as a butcher fells an ox,

and then he leaped to the cart where Stutely sat.
"I pray thee take leave of thy friends ere thou diest, Will,"

quoth he, "or maybe I will die with thee if thou must die,
for I could never have better company." Then with one stroke

he cut the bonds that bound the other's arms and legs,
and Stutely leaped straightway from the cart.

"Now as I live," cried the Sheriff, "yon varlet I know right well
is a sturdy rebel! Take him, I bid you all, and let him not go!"

So saying, he spurred his horse upon Little John, and rising
in his stirrups smote with might and main, but Little John ducked

quickly underneath the horse's belly and the blow whistled
harmlessly over his head.

"Nay, good Sir Sheriff," cried he, leaping up again when the blow
had passed, "I must e'en borrow thy most worshipful sword."

Thereupon he twitched the weapondeftly from out the Sheriff's hand,
"Here, Stutely," he cried, "the Sheriff hath lent thee his sword!

Back to back with me, man, and defend thyself, for help is nigh!"
"Down with them!" bellowed the Sheriff in a voice like an angry bull;

and he spurred his horse upon the two who now stood back to back,
forgetting in his rage that he had no weapon with which to defend himself.

"Stand back, Sheriff!" cried Little John; and even as he spoke,
a bugle horn sounded shrilly and a clothyard shaft whistled within

an inch of the Sheriff's head. Then came a swaying hither and thither,
and oaths, cries, and groans, and clashing of steel, and swords flashed

in the setting sun, and a score of arrows whistled through the air.