"Lords, Ladies, people of Nottingham, we are gathered here today to witness the carrying out of justice in the name of God and King Richard. Bring out the prisoner!"
Elizabeth strode proudly to the gallows, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders.
"Let it be heard and known about the lands and realms of Richard, His Majesty, King of England, that on this, the 23rd day of September, in the year of our Lord 1194, the following woman, having been tried under law and found guilty—Elizabeth of Locksley—this same woman has been sentenced to hang by a rope until she is dead."
She was not afraid of death. How could she be, living when and where she did with who she had for her dearest friends? She stepped up to the trap-door and silently allowed the executioner to slip the length of rope around her throat.
"Any last words, girl?" the executioner growled into her ear.
Tears pricked at her eyes as she thought of all the wasted time she spent yearning and wishing, but never acting and pursuing. "I love him," she whispered, her eyes growing wide with her realisation. "I really do; I love him!"
The executioner chuckled a cruel chuckle and pulled the lever, releasing the trap-door. As he did, a voice rang through the square, "Elizabeth!"
Recognising the voice, she quickly scanned the crowd to find him. "Robin!" she screamed, falling to her death. But her death did not come. As her weight pulled on the rope, it snapped under the strain of Elizabeth and the small fire that had been sent upon it. Elizabeth fell roughly to the execution platform, coughing, and striking her head against the wood.
"John! Get her!"
A pair of strong arms scooped Elizabeth up and held her gently, but firmly against a warm, leather and cloth-clad body. "Don't worry, Lady Elizabeth," the man, John Little, murmured, carrying her through the square, fending off the Sheriff's soldiers with one arm. "I'll keep you safe." He ran, carrying the semi-conscious girl, from Nottingham Town to Sherwood Forrest as fast as he could, while Robin and the others kept the soldiers and Sheriff and Sir Guy of Gisborne busy.
Reaching their camp, John Little gently laid Elizabeth down on one of the beds. "Lady Elizabeth," he said softly. "Lady Elizabeth, can you hear me?"
Her eyes fluttered open and she blearily looked up at him. "Little John," she whispered.