The palmer spoke in a muffled voice; and as his hood was pulled well over his head, Stout Will could not discern what manner of man he was. Over his shoulder he carried a long staff, with the fashion of a little cross at one end; and he had sandaled feet like any monk. Stout Will notice idly that the feet were very small and white, but gave no second thought to the matter. “Who will shrive the poor wretch, if you have come away from him?” he asked reproachfully. The question seemed to put a new idea into the palmer’s head. He turned so quickly that he almost dropped his hood. “Do you think that I should undertake this holy office?” “By Saint Peter and the Blessed Virgin, I do indeed! Else, who will do it? The Bishop and all his whining clerks may be there, but not one would say a prayer for his soul.” “But I am only a poor palmer,” the other began hesitatingly. “Nathless, your prayers are as good as any and better than some,” replied Will. “Right gladly would I go,” then said the palmer; “but I fear me I cannot get into the city. You may know that the gates are fast locked, for this morning, to all who would come in, although they let any pass out who will.” “Come with me,” said Stout Will, “and my master will see that you pass through the gates.” So the palmer pulled his cloak still closer about him and was brought before Robin Hood, to whom he told all he knew of the situation. He ended with, “If I may make so bold, I would not try to enter the city from this gate, as ‘tis closely guarded since yesterday. But on the far side, no attack is looked for.” “My thanks, gentle palmer,” quoth Robin, “your suggestion is good, and we will deploy to the gate upon the far side.” So the men marched silently but quickly until they were near to the western gate. Then Arthur-a-Bland asked leave to go ahead as a scout, and quietly made his way to a point under the tower by the gate. The moat was dry on this side, as these were times of peace, and Arthur was further favored by a stout ivy vine which grew out from an upper window. Swinging himself up boldly by means of this friendly vine, he crept through the window and in a moment more had sprung upon the warder from behind and gripped him hard about the throat. The warder had no chance to utter the slightest sound, and soon lay bound and gagged upon the floor; while Arthur-a-Bland slipped himself into his uniform and got hold of his keys. ‘Twas the work of but a few moments more to open the gates, let down the bridge, and admit the rest of the band; and they lot inside the town so quietly that none knew of their coming. Fortune also favored them in the fact that just at this moment the prison doors had been opened for the march of the condemned man, and every soldier and idle lout in the market-lace had trooped thither to see him pass along.