h 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 t