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Chapters (76)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART I
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EIGHT
  14. NINE
  15. PART II
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. PART III
  27. TWENTY
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. INTERLUDE
  35. PART IV
  36. TWENTY-SEVEN
  37. TWENTY-EIGHT
  38. TWENTY-NINE
  39. THIRTY
  40. THIRTY-ONE
  41. THIRTY-TWO
  42. THIRTY-THREE
  43. THIRTY-FOUR
  44. INTERLUDE
  45. PART V
  46. THIRTY-FIVE
  47. THIRTY-SIX
  48. THIRTY-SEVEN
  49. THIRTY-EIGHT
  50. PART VI
  51. THIRTY-NINE
  52. FORTY
  53. FORTY-ONE
  54. FORTY-TWO
  55. FORTY-THREE
  56. FORTY-FOUR
  57. FORTY-FIVE
  58. INTERLUDE
  59. PART VII
  60. FORTY-SIX
  61. FORTY-SEVEN
  62. FORTY-EIGHT
  63. FORTY-NINE
  64. FIFTY
  65. FIFTY-ONE
  66. FIFTY-TWO
  67. PART VIII
  68. FIFTY-THREE
  69. FIFTY-FOUR
  70. FIFTY-FIVE
  71. FIFTY-SIX
  72. EPILOGUE
  73. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  74. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  75. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  76. Newsletter Sign-up

In the lower, largest bailey, nothing men went about raising a gallows. They were at work as soon as there was light enough to do so, hauling massive timbers and hoisting them to position. It was expected to be quite the spectacle. The public was invited, with every hope that Robin and his men would be amongst. And they would be, Gilbert had no doubt of it. The thought gave him pause, though he could not quite say why. It would not be Scarlet on the gallows, just some prisoner from down below. If Marion’s men sprang to stop the execution, they would be most surprised. Scarlet and Elena would have had their throats unceremoniously opened earlier that morning, and their bodies would then be flung from the middle bailey walls for all to see. Assassins did not deserve the respect of an execution, such was the message, and the capture of Robin would be the final punchline. Gilbert was undecided if he enjoyed the joke yet, wasn’t he?

The construction noticeably lulled as Gilbert strode beneath the skeleton of the half-finished gallows, the workers eyeing him, wondering which figure was more revered by death. He made a show of trailing his gloved fingers against its timbers, even paused and whispered a few nonsensical words into one of them. On the other side was the door to the cramped abbey where de Lacy’s body currently lived—or rather didn’t.

It reeked of incense in the cubbyhole abbey. Men were afraid of the stink a body gave off, thinking obscuring its smell would make a corpse more palatable. De Lacy’s body wore death well. His face sank low and grey into his skull, his fingers were more bone than tissue, but he was handsome. All around him candles burned, sage smoked heavy in a bronze bowl, the ash lifting up and out of a grate in the ceiling. Over de Lacy’s body were two more, not dead yet. Not yet, were they? Holding a rag to his mouth was a man whose purported esteem was only matched by his age and girth. This Bishop of Hereford, here to preside the funeral, if he survived long enough himself.

The other body was the other one, that most curious addition to the Black Guard. No hand over the mouth for this one, hovering over the sheriff’s body closer than most could stomach, staring. The half of her face Gilbert could see wasn’t anything to be called pretty, but most would consider it her better half. She shifted slightly to look at him. The other half of her sloughed, as it were, her eye fixed forever forward and dead. Her eyes, even the one that could see, were the first eyes that never nervously glanced down at Gilbert’s glove.