At the entrance to Saint Martin's churchyard, a new gibbet had been erected from which to hang the criminal, whose execution was now to mark the occasion of the papal envoy's visit. One sight of the captive as he was escorted from the guardhouse sent the crowd scampering for places from which to view the spectacle. Some cheered, others blew their noses, and still others threw rotten apples and eggs at the bearded, dishevelled prisoner as he was hauled across the square on the arms of his guards.

As the wretch neared the pavilion, Father Dominic summoned his interpreter and whispered something into his ear. Brother Alfonso leaned close, nodded, then turned to the count and said, "My Lord Count, the envoy says that he is most interested in this case. He would like to know what crime this unfortunate has committed."

"Pray, tell His Eminence that he is a traitor to the crown," the count explained. "He, along with other desperate rebels, has sought to pervert the course of the king's justice, and has on numerous occasions attacked the king's men and prevented them from engaging in their lawful duties. He has incited rebellion against the crown. This, of course, is treason."

"A very grave crime, indeed," observed the envoy through his interpreter. "Is that not so?"

"Indeed," agreed the sheriff, intruding into the conversation. "But if that was not enough, this criminal is also a thief. He has stolen money and other valuables from travellers passing through the forest."

"A very rogue," agreed the envoy.

"That and more," said Count Falkes. "We have good reason to believe that he was part of a gang of outlaws that have plagued this commot since we established our rule in this lawless region. Indeed, we have it from his own lips that he has violated Forest Law by killing the king's deer-also a capital offence."

As these words were delivered to the envoy, the sheriff added, "These murderers have been responsible for the deaths of many good men. They answer to one known as King Raven, who styles himself a phantom of the greenwood."

At this, the special ambassador of Pope Clement turned suddenly, clapped his hands, and exclaimed, "Rhi Bran y Hud!"

Both count and sheriff were taken aback by this unexpected outburst and regarded the priest with alarm. After a quick word with the ambassador, Alfonso, the interpreter, confided, "His Eminence says that word of this phantom has reached him."

"Truly?" wondered Count Falkes, greatly amazed.

"It must be the same," said Father Dominic through his interpreter. "There cannot be more than one, surely."

"Surely not," confirmed the sheriff. "But never fear, Your Eminence. These outlaws cannot elude us much longer. We will bring them to justice. They will all hang before another year is out."

The condemned man was brought to stand before the nobles and dignitaries in the pavilion. He stared dull-eyed, his expression slack, hair and beard matted and filthy. The sheriff, splendid in his green velvet cloak and belt of gold discs, rose and held up a gloved hand for silence from the swiftly gathering crowd. "Be it known," he called out, his voice cutting through the chatter, "that on this day, in accordance with the rule of law, the criminal William Scatlocke, also known as Scarlet, is put to death for crimes against the crown-namely treachery, rebellion, robbery, and the abuse of the king's sheriff, Richard de Glanville." The sheriff 's eyes narrowed. "None other than myself."

He paused to allow these words to be translated for the foreigners, then continued, saying, "The hour of your death is upon you, thief and murderer. Have you anything to say before justice is served?"

The outlaw known as Will Scarlet glowered at the sheriff and spat. "Do your worst, de Glanville," he growled, his voice low. "We all know who the real rogues are."

With a disinterested flick of his hand, the sheriff said, "Take him away."

"It is said that the Welshmen are cunning archers," observed Father Dominic as the prisoner was dragged away to the gibbet.

"So they would have their ignorant countrymen believe," sneered the sheriff. "Believe me, they are nothing more than a rabble-unruly as they are untrained."

"Even so, I have heard a Welsh archer can put an arrow into the eye of a blackbird in flight."

"Tales for children," said Falkes, with a small, hollow laugh. "Although, I daresay the Welsh appear to believe it themselves."

"I understand," replied the envoy through his interpreter. "As it happens, I myself am an archer."

"Indeed, my lord?" said Falkes, feigning interest.

"Oh, yes!" said the envoy, his enthusiasm plain, even through the remove of a translator. "I count the days spent with a bow in my hand blessed. It helps ease the burden of my office, you see."

"Well, I suppose," granted the count, "it must be pleasant for you."

"It is the one secular pursuit I allow myself," continued the envoy, confiding his observations to Alfonso, who dutifully passed them along. "As a child, I myself often enjoyed hunting with a bow on my father's estate in Spain. I know well enough what such a weapon can do in the hands of one well schooled in its use. You are right to fear the rebels."

"We do not fear them," insisted the sheriff. "It is merely that…" Unable to finish this assertion in a convincing way, he paused, then concluded lamely, "They do not fight fairly."

The prisoner was brought to stand beneath the gallows, and the rope was knotted and thrown over the short stout gibbet arm. The soldiers began tying the victim's legs with short bands of cloth.

"I see," replied Father Dominic when the sheriff 's words had been made clear to him. He shrugged, then smiled, turned to Lady Ghisella beside him and exchanged a brief word, whereupon the envoy suddenly announced, "My cousin would like to see the Welshman ply the bow."

"What!" asked the sheriff, looking around suddenly. The request caught him off guard.

"But that is not possible, Your Eminence," said Count de Braose. "A man like that"-he flung his hand towards the group at the gallows-"must not be given a deadly weapon under any circumstances."

"Ah, I understand," said Father Dominic through his translator. "It is that you fear him too greatly. I understand. Perhaps there is something in this children's tale you speak of after all, no?"

"No!" said Abbot Hugo, at the count's silent urging, "Pray do not misunderstand. It is not that we fear him, but merely that it would be unwise to allow him to lay hands to the very weapon he has used to kill and maim our soldiers. He is a condemned man and must be executed according to the law."

At this the papal envoy's ordinarily woeful features arranged themselves in a wide grin of pleasure. Brother Alfonso turned and announced, "His Eminence wishes to assure you that he is looking forward to the execution as much as anyone, but suggests that there is good sport to be had before it takes place. These affairs are, after all, very short-lived, shall we say." The sallow monk smiled at his wordplay. "It is a commonplace in Italy and elsewhere, that wagers are placed on such things as how many kicks the condemned will produce, how long he will swing before he succumbs, or whether he will piss himself, things like this. A good wager heightens the enjoyment of the occasion, yes?"

"I see," replied the count coolly. "What sort of wager does your master think appropriate here?"

After a quick consultation, Brother Alfonso replied, "His Eminence suggests that a demonstration of some sort would be amusing."

"Perhaps," granted the count. "What sort of demonstration?"

"As an archer himself, Father Dominic is especially keen to see this prisoner's skill."

"Well, I suppose something might be arranged," Count Falkes conceded at last. "If it is what our guest wants, I see no good reason to deny him."