"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."