Karl strolled down the winding, cobbled street towards the tavern, Jason trotting along at his heels almost like a faithful dog. It had been a tiring day. The scaffold was almost built, just two more days, and Raven would hang.

           He could not shake himself free of his last meeting with Raven. He had gone to ask him if he had any last requests, one of the innumerable small duties of a professional executioner, and Raven had continued to rant and shriek like a lunatic, hurling himself at the bars and slavering and swearing that Lord Mark would die instead of him. “Lord Mark will die in my place! Lord Mark will die! Lord Mark will die!” he had screamed over and over. Karl doubted it. The Palace was well built and well guarded. It would take and organized siege to reduce the place, and though Raven had many henchmen in the underworld from pickpockets and sneak thieves to murderers and worse, he did not have an army. 

           They reached the tavern and went in. Karl ordered a pot of beer for himself and one for Jason too. He also ordered some food and sat down in a corner. At the sight of his black hood and purple tassel most of those in the tavern drew away. They knew the marks of the executioner’s guild.

           “Why did you wish to come to the tavern, Jason?” Karl asked his apprentice. 

           Jason smiled his impish smile and pointed at the plate in front of him. “I was hungry.”

           Karl watched as Jason ate with his right hand. It was swathed from knuckles to elbow in bandages. They covered the burns that he said disfigured his whole arm. His left arm was also wrapped, but it hung uselessly in a sling around his neck. Poor lad. He might make a hangman someday, but he would never be a headman. He could wield neither axe nor sword with just one crippled hand.

           Karl ate, and sipped his beer. His last apprentice had the makings of a fine headman. He could strike off a head with one clean blow. True he preferred the axe while Karl preferred the sword, but that mattered little. Karl had been happy to give him his red tassel and bring him before the council as a master executioner. 

           That was when Jason had approached and asked to be his apprentice. That was about the time Lord Mark had sent for him and announced that he had finally captured Raven and wished him executed as quickly as possible.

           The doors opened and a man walked in. Karl glanced at him casually through the smoke and looked away. Then his eyes flashed back and locked upon the man. He was wearing a red hood and strange marks swirled up his hands and arms. Karl stared. He could not tear his eyes away from the stranger in the red hood.

           Jason saw his intense stare and glanced over his shoulder towards the door. “What is it?”

           Karl nodded towards the stranger. “A red hood.”

           Jason nodded. “Yes…a red hood. What does it matter?”

           Karl looked at his apprentice. “Have you never heard of the red hoods?”

           Jason shook his head.

           Karl stroked the purple tassel of his black hood. “I am an executioner. As a member of the council I wear a purple tassel. You, as an apprentice wear no tassel. An apprentice, when he has earned the right to become an executioner in his own right, will receive his red tassel. Our grand master wears a white tassel, for he sheds blood no longer.”

           Jason nodded eagerly. This much he knew already.

           “Ours is a noble profession. Unpleasant but noble. We rid the earth of those that must, for their many and terrible crimes, be killed to protect the rest. We of the black hoods are not welcome in many places, as you saw when we entered this place, be we are respected. Not so with the red hoods. They call themselves executioners, but they are not. Pah! Murderers and assassins more like it. They kill for money and glory in it. If someone pays their price, the red hoods ask no questions. They do not execute the guilty, but will kill anyone for a price.”

           Jason swiveled around and glared at the man in the red hood. “I did not know such men existed. Where do they come from?”

           Karl nodded. “Yes there are men like him. This is a wild and wicked world we live in. I do not know where they come from. Some say here in Berion, though I doubt it. I think they must come from the north and east, or perhaps the far south.

           “What are the marks on his hands?”

           “Tattoos. Those on his right hand mark his rank in that filthy guild as he calls it. After he has made his kill, he tattoos his victims name on his left side. Or, so I have heard.”

           Jason shuddered. “To kill men who have done no wrong for money is bad enough, but to tattoo their names on your arm… afterwards… it turns my stomach.”

           Karl stood up abruptly and took Jason’s arm. Jason winced away. Karl looked at the bandages and shook his head. “I am sorry, lad, but we must go quickly. Something has just occurred to me that I do not like at all.”

           Jason nodded. They left the inn quietly. Evening had fallen, and it was dark outside; it was chilly too.

           “Why must we hurry? What is going on? I don’t understand,” Jason said as he hurried along behind.

           “I can think of but one reason a red hood would come to this city at this time.”

           “What is it? Why?”

           Karl stopped and turned to face him. “What threat has Raven been screaming for days? Can’t you remember? It rings in my ears still.” 

           Jason caught his breath. “He has come to kill Lord Mark!”

           “Yes. We must hurry to the palace and warn him. I have heard many tales of the red hoods. I doubt not that many have grown taller in the telling, but even if only half are true, Lord Mark is in terrible danger.”

           They started off again as the wind swirled around them. It seemed to Karl as though the whole world had grown suddenly cold.

           Lord Mark smiled complacently when Karl told him what was lurking in the tavern. He was a fierce old warrior. He had lost an eye in battle, and several teeth in a brawl. Tales of a red hood in a tavern worried him little.

           Karl shook his head. “But my Lord should at least take some precaution. These men are cunning and deadly from all I have heard.”

           “Indeed. All you have heard. All I have heard. All we have heard. What do any of us know about these men?”

           “I know nothing, but I am uneasy. Raven has ruled his underworld with a fist of steel, and I do not think you should take his threats lightly. He claims you will die in his place; and now a red hood appears in a tavern a stone’s throw from the palace. That is too much coincidence for my taste.”

           “I thank you for your concern, Master Karl, but I am not concerned. This villain Raven will hang in two days, and this red hood will vanish as mysteriously as he appeared. No, Master Karl. I am not worried.”

           Karl bowed and withdrew; there was nothing else he could do. Jason, as ever, trotted behind.

           When they had reached their rooms, Karl sat down. He thought and thought. How, how, how could he prevent this murder that he knew was afoot. He did not know. He was an executioner, not a guard, and he did not know what to do.

           Jason went into the inner room and came back with Karl’s great two handed sword. He began to sharpen it quite carefully, holding the sword between his knees and swirling the stone along the edges. The dull grate of stone on steel roused Karl. He watched for a moment as Jason honed the sword to razor sharpness.

           “You need not sharpen that, Jason. Have you forgotten? Raven is to hang. I will not need my sword.”

           “Well…I just thought…perhaps…”stammered Jason.

           “What?”

           “That you would kill the red hood.”

           Karl stood up. “I cannot do that! I am an executioner, not an assassin like the red hood himself.”

           “But surely killing a man like that is an execution. Surely if he is as terrible as you have said, he deserves to die. Surely it would be a service to the realm to remove such a villain as you have painted this red hood.”

           Karl shook his head. “I cannot. I cannot slay a man who has not been tried and found guilty and sentenced to death. I cannot become a law unto myself and kill all those I see as unfit to live. I cannot do such a thing. I have warned Lord Mark. That, as far as I can see, is all I can do. If Lord Mark chooses to play hazard with his life, that is his affair. I have done all I can. 

           “But…” and Jason held up the sword.

           “No! Let us have no more such talk. I will not kill the red hood.

           Jason nodded. “As you wish.”

           Karl smiled at the lad. He was growing quite fond of his impish apprentice. “You are eager, Jason. Eager to save a life, and that does you credit; but to kill this man would make me just a vile and wicked as he is. Do you understand?”

           “I think I begin too,” Jason said. 

           Karl awoke the next day. He arose and looked out his window into the palace garden. A bird flitted away when it saw him. He smiled. Things did not look so dark in the bright morning sunshine as they had last night. He looked up at the blue sky and the white, powdery clouds. A gentle breeze was blowing. His gaze rolled around the walls and towers. It drifted to the gate and there it stopped, frozen.

           In the shadow of the gates arch, just outside the portcullis he could swear he saw the outline of a man and a flash of red. Perhaps he was mistaken. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. Perhaps his brooding upon red hoods caused him to imagine…

           There he was. The man in the red hood turned and strode away from the gate, fully revealed in the new risen sunshine. There was no mistaking it. He had been standing at the very gates of the palace.

           Karl dressed and roused Jason. “Hurry and dress. We have much to do today.”

           They went down to breakfast. They ate in silence. Karl had much to ponder and Jason seemed to have little to say. After breakfast, Karl tried to see Lord Mark, but the Lord was busy and could not see him just then. Karl shook his head and went about his duties.

           He went first to the carpenters to check the scaffold. As executioner it was his duty to see the scaffold was built correctly. Lord Mark had ordered it built in the city square where all could see the eventual death that awaited violent and terrible criminals such as Raven.

           A score of Lord Mark’s best soldiers guarded the scaffold. They were to ensure that none of Raven’s men destroyed it or interfered with the carpenters. Karl gave the password and the second password. The guards knew him well, but still he must give the passwords. Lord Mark was taking no chances with the scaffold being destroyed. Every moment Raven lived was another moment for him and his henchmen to plot his escape.

           The carpenters Lord Mark had chosen had built several such scaffolds before in their experience, and Karl had nothing to suggest or change of their work. He was just leaving the square, when he almost ran into Roger the keeper of the horses at the palace. 

           Roger stepped nimbly aside at the last moment, and smiled. “Your head is down, but you are not seeing the road at your feet, eh, Executioner.”

           Karl nodded. “I am sorry. My mind is elsewhere.”

           Roger winked. “No doubt, no doubt. I’d not like to be the one to drop the trap under Raven. His lads would see that I didn’t live long after. Not much fun spending the rest of your days looking over your shoulder hmm.”

           Karl nodded. “Indeed.” He had no wish to tell this jolly, talkative man what he was really thinking about.

           Roger stepped in closer, and the humor seemed gone from his eyes. “I say, Executioner, do you think Raven might escape? I know he is a murderer and worse, but I have a friend, who knows someone, who has heard rumblings in the underworld that if Raven does hang, no one in the palace will be safe. They plan to kill us all one by one. Would it be so bad if he escaped? I mean, I work at the palace, and I don’t wish to be murdered in my bed. What harm would come if he did escape. He has ruled the underworld for years, and it has done me no harm. Not that I approve…”

           “Raven will not escape,” Karl interrupted, and he walked on.

He shook his head as he walked to the shop of the rope maker. It was fearful men, much more than wicked men, that allowed those like Raven to prosper. Most men were revolted by what Raven had done during his reign, but most of these were too fearful to do anything about it. At the rope maker’s he selected a length of strong, smooth cord. He returned to the scaffold and left it with the carpenters. They knew what it was for. One of the carpenters left it in his box with his tools.

           His final chore this morning was to once more ask Raven if he had any last wish, and what he wanted for his final meal. He arrived at the prison and was led in. The torches flared as they were led deeper and deeper into the dungeon. Keys rattled in door after door, and Karl had to give password and counter time and again to the guards that swarmed over the place. Lord Mark was taking no chances. Karl stepped through a final door, and at last he found himself once more before the cell of Raven.

           Raven sat in his cell. He was tall and lanky. He had a hook for a left hand. He was not wearing a shirt, and his body and neck and face were scored and slashed by the scars of his innumerable fights to become king of the underworld.   

He chuckled hoarsely when he saw Karl and Jason. “Do you still mean to hang me executioner? I tell you Lord Mark will die in my place. He will die! And beware, executioner, or I will see to it that you die too. Not quick, by rope or blade, but slow. As slow as my lads can make it.”

           “We saw the red hood last night!” Jason blurted out, rushing to the bars of the cell. “How did you get word to him? How does he mean to kill Lord Mark? Tell me!”

           Raven grinned an evil grin. “So, he is here already. You jangle a little gold in front of a red hood, and they come double quick. Mark will die and I will go free.”

           “Lord Mark may die, but you shall not go free,” Karl said as he laid a hand on Jason’s shoulder and drew him back from the bars.

           “When you see Mark dead and you are next, shall you throw the lever and drop the trap? I think not,” Raven sneered. “You will bolt like a coward and I shall go free.”

           “You shall not go free.” 

Raven spat.

           “I have come to ask one last time what you would like as your last meal,” Karl said.

           “Mark’s kidneys and your liver!” Raven howled.

 Karl turned on his heel and left. Jason trotted along behind.

As they emerged into the sunshine from the prison, Karl took a deep breath of air and turned to look at the garden. He saw something he did not quite like. Roger, the keeper of the horses was speaking earnestly to George, the blacksmith. Karl frowned and started towards them. Roger saw him approaching and turned quickly and left. Karl walked up to George.

“What news from the keeper of the horses,” he asked as cheerily as he could.

George snorted a laugh. “Tales of death and murder if Raven should hang. I could tell him tales that would really frighten him, if I had a mind to.”

“You?”

 “Aye. I served Raven in the old days. I’ve seen more than a few things to turn the stomach.” He turned and walked towards his smithy.   

           “No doubt,” Karl said as he followed. 

           George went to the bellows and began to pump upon the coals that glowed like hell itself inside the forge. Sparks flew up. Karl watched them swirl upwards, and just before they touched the thatch of the roof, wink out.

           “You served Raven once, you say,” Karl began. 

           “That I did. In the days of my foolish youth. I thought to get rich without work. Instead I dirtied my hands in many crimes, and got no loot for my trouble. I would appreciate it if you would keep it to yourself, though. There are few in the palace that know of my past. I only tell you because I feel we understand each other, you and I,” and he winked.

Karl turned and walked quickly back to the palace and sought to see Lord Mark. Lord Mark would see him.

           As they entered, Lord Mark held up his hand. “If you have come with more baseless fears of threats against my life, I have no wish to hear them.”

           “But my Lord,” Karl said, “I have been to see Raven and he has admitted to hiring a red hood to kill you. And I saw him this morning lurking in the shadows outside your gate. How or when he means to take your life I do not know, but he will try I know.”

           “I doubt not he has hired a red hood. I also do not doubt that such a man was lurking near my gates. This does not surprise me. I did not believe either Raven or his henchmen would let him hang without at least one attempt at his release. And failing that, at revenge. What I do doubt is that these red hoods are as dangerous as fear would make them. The walls of the palace are tall and strong, and my guards are many, bold and faithful. I am as safe here as can be.”

           Karl shook his head. “My heart misgives me, my Lord. I know little for certain of these red hoods. These murderers who dare to call themselves executioners. But every tale, every whispered story and hushed legend speaks of their cleverness and skill. You are not as safe here as you may think. As for your guards, perhaps there are some in this palace who are not as loyal as could be wished…”

           Lord Mark shook his head angrily. “I will hear nothing against my retainers. They are loyal, and I am as safe here as I should be anywhere. And if a red hood were to spring from the shadows upon me, I still carry a sword.”

           “Fine, my Lord, if they leap upon you from the shadows. But there are other ways: poison, a thrown knife, arrows and darts from a distance. It would not be difficult for a man with a bow, standing in the shadows under you gates to drive a shaft through the throat of anyone in the garden or courtyard. At least send some of your guard to seize the red hood and hold him in bonds until Raven is buried.”

           Lord Mark laughed. If these red hoods are as clever and crafty as you say, then my guards could not lay hands on him. He would vanish in a puff of smoke and appear in my bedroom and cut my throat. No.”

           “My Lord, he is a man; not a sorcerer or a ghost. Your guards, if they could not catch him and arrest him could at least drive him into hiding and not give him leisure to plan your murder.”

           Lord Mark shook his head. “No. I am not afraid.”

           “No one has ever accused you of being afraid of anything, my lord. But prudence is as much a virtue as courage.”

Lord Mark smiled. “True, executioner, but I have no intention of prudently cowering while Raven hangs tomorrow. I shall be there to see his end.”

           Karl bowed and left. There was no more to say. He and Jason returned to their rooms and sat. There was nothing else to do. The steady hammering and sawing of the carpenters had ended and was replaced by a smattering of blows and taps as the carpenters placed the finishing touches on the scaffold. 

           Later Karl would go down and check the scaffold for the last time. He would check the guards, and he would fix the noose for tomorrow. He had measured Raven and he knew how high to set the noose and how heavy a weight to use. He had done it all many times, and he knew it by rote.

           Jason nudged his arm, and Karl turned. Jason held his Sword out to him. “If Lord Mark will not save his own life, can you not save it for him? Take this and kill. Kill the murderer and save the Lord’s life!”

           “I cannot!”

           How can you sit by idle while a murderer and a fiend plots the death of good Lord Mark. How can you sit idly by while Raven will escape and continue to murder and plunder unchecked. Will any dare oppose him when Lord Mark is dead? How can you do such a thing? Take your good sword and strike the head from a murderer just as you have always done!” 

           “I tell you I cannot! We executioners are honorable men. I told you last night we would not speak of this again.”

           “You did, but that was before Lord Mark refused to save himself. If you will not hunt down and kill this devil, I will!” Jason turned and ran from the room carrying the sword in his good right hand.

           Karl ran after him. “Stop, Jason. Stop. You cannot use such a sword one armed. He will kill you too!”

           Jason was far swifter that Karl had thought. For, though he kept his apprentice in sight, he could not catch him. Through the palace they ran. Down the halls and into the courtyard. Out the gates, down the road, and into the city square.  Jason would have gotten away had it not been for the guards at the scaffold. They stopped him and Karl caught up.

           “Where do you run so fast with your master’s blade?” the guards laughed.

           Jason closed his mouth tight.

           “He goes nowhere,” Karl said. “We return to the palace.”

           Jason handed the sword back to Karl, and with his head hung low, trudged along behind. Karl was forming the words for a scolding in his mind, when the brazen bell of the palace that hung above the great hall began to toll wildly. Karl scowled.

           A guard came tearing down the road, running as fast as he could. Karl tried to stop the man, but he ran on. Karl and Jason began walking swiftly towards the palace, when the soldiers who had been guarding the scaffold came running past, heading towards the palace. 

           Karl seized the last soldier by the arm. “What has happened?” he asked, but he felt sick in the pit of his stomach because he could guess what had happened.

           “Raven has escaped!”

           “What?! How?”

           “I don’t know,” panted the soldier. “No one seems to know.”

           Karl released the guard’s arm and walked swiftly behind the running soldiers. “We must get to Lord Mark, and guard him,” he said over his shoulder to Jason. Jason nodded.

           When they reached the palace, it was in chaos. Soldiers were searching here and there. The gates were being closed. Lord Mark stood on the steps with drawn sword, directing the search.

           His one eye glared fiercely in the torchlight. “Arthur, take twenty men and surround the palace from the outside, he may try to scale the walls and escape. Tilburn, sweep the gardens with your men. He must be found. If he escapes now, there will be no stopping him. The citizens will not be safe. Nothing will be safe!”

           Karl strode up behind Lord Mark and stood there leaning on his great executioners sword. He said nothing, but his eyes darted everywhere, looking. A bush would ripple in the evening breeze, and Karl would tense. A torch would flare, and he would edge closer to Lord Mark. A bird, disturbed by the noise and light, would rustle softly, and Karl clutched his sword tighter. And he gritted his teeth when he glanced towards the stables and saw Roger and George speaking together and pointing towards him.

           The search went on, but Raven was not found. A pair of soldiers hurriedly searched through the prison in a rush. The garden was gone over three times. The men surrounding the palace from the outside kept alert and watchful. He had not gotten out, all agreed, but all the while their hearts sank.

           Long into the night the search continued. Jason began yawning so much, that Karl sent him to bed. Guards and soldiers searched where they had already searched, and still they found nothing; and through it all Karl stood leaning on his sword like a statue behind Lord Mark.

           At last Lord Mark called off the search to wait for daylight. Guards were posted, and the gates and windows were double bolted. As Lord Mark walked slowly to his rooms, Karl followed. “Does anyone know how Raven managed to escape? Many times have I visited him, and he was guarded as well as any prisoner could be.”

           “Somehow, by what means none know, he laid his hands on a knife. He slew his two jailers and escaped. I fear now that we will not recapture him. He is gone, and many shall pay for it. He will feel himself invincible and will pity neither the weak nor the strong.”

           “All is not lost, my Lord. We will capture him again, and I shall drop the trap beneath him yet. That wicked man shall not escape justice forever. His crimes shall ensnare him before the end.”

           Lord Mark smiled. “You comfort me, Executioner. I hope he shall be captured again. I fear for the innocent if he is not.”

           Karl left him and walked slowly to his own room. Jason was asleep when he entered. He was worn out and dispirited. It seemed as though the evil would triumph. He arrived at his room and sat beside the window. He noticed a dull red glow coming from the town square. He knew what it was. Raven had escaped, and now his gallows had been put to the torch. The red hood had not been idle.

           Karl slept poorly for what was left of the night. He was tormented by unsettling dreams that he could not remember when the pale, cool morning thrust a finger through his window and wakened him. He dressed and roused Jason. The boy seemed tired still. They went down to breakfast. It was cheerless and dull. The cook had managed to scrape together a porridge, and that was all. All in the palace seemed depressed and glum. There was no cheer at all.

           As Karl spooned his way through the bland muck, he kept turning a thought over and over in his mind. It was a strange thought, but it was the only way all the parts fit together. The only thing he did not know was how the red hood had gotten a knife to Raven; but there were others than the red hood that he had his eye upon.

           He finished and sought Lord Mark. Lord Mark was in the garden with his huntsmen, casting about for tracks. Any hope of Raven leaving some prints undisturbed had vanished in the night. The guards, in their haste to search, had trampled and thrashed everything beyond recognition. Any prints Raven might have left were gone beyond recall.

           Karl asked Lord Mark for a private audience with just Jason and the captain of Lord Mark’s guard in attendance. Lord Mark agreed. They went swiftly to Lord Mark’s rooms.

           “My Lord,” said Karl. “How many of Raven’s henchmen are in your prison now?”

           “A score? Two dozen? I could not say.”

           “And any of them would help their chief if they could.”

           “Indeed they would.”

           “I believe that Raven is still in your prison, just in a different cell.”

           “What! Search Immediately!”

           “No, My Lord. Wait and hear my plan. If we were to capture him again, that would force his hand. Somehow, and I know not how, he is in contact with the red hood. Perhaps one of your guards is false. Perhaps anything. There are two men in the palace that I have been watching.”

           “Who are they, and why do you suspect them?” demanded the captain of the guard.

           “I suspect one of them because he is a coward, and the other because he served Raven in the old days, but their names I will not say. I will accuse no man without proof of his guilt.”

           “Their names, Executioner,” the captain said very sternly as he drew his cloak back to reveal his sword.

           “Enough, Arthur,” said Lord Mark, raising his hand. “If these men are false, they shall unmask themselves in time, and we shall deal with them then.  First we must recapture Raven. What would you have me do, Karl?”

           “Build another scaffold. Build it here on the grounds of the palace. Build it quickly and in secret. It must be finished tonight. Then we will tear the prison apart until he is found. He will then be executed then and there.”

           “How do you know he is still in the prison?” asked the captain of the guard.

           “I do not,” Karl replied. “But where else could he be? We have searched and re-searched the palace and the grounds. The prison was hardly searched at all. Raven is clever and crafty, but I do not believe he could have gotten through the gates or over the walls unseen. The only place left is in the prison. Is there no cot under which he could slither and lie hid? Is there no cell with a dozen or twenty prisoners, where one more would not be noticed? There are a dozen places where he could hide until escape was easier.”

           “But what if, when the gallows is finished, we search the prison and he is not there?” the captain continued.

           “Then he is gone already and we have lost nothing. But I do not think so.  I think he lies hid with his henchmen beneath our very noses.”

           Lord Mark sat in thought for a moment, gently rubbing the side of his nose where the eye patch galled. “We shall do as you have said, Executioner. I agree that the prison is the best place for Raven to hide, and if he is already gone, then he is gone and there is nothing we can do to change it. Captain, let the search continue, as though we still have hope of finding him, but let the guard at the prison be doubled, and all the gates kept closed. Also, send for the carpenters. They have much to do before the sun sets.”

“I shall return when the sun lowers,” said Karl. 
“Where do you go, Executioner?” asked Lord Mark.

“To a certain tavern in the town.”

“Has Raven’s escape unsteadied you nerves, that you need something to steady them?” sneered the captain of the guard.

“No. But I once saw a certain red hood there, and if I find him there again, we have some business that must be settled between us.”

Lord Mark nodded. “Go carefully, and wisely. I have underestimated these men. I do so no longer.”

Karl started to leave, but Jason drew him aside. “You go to meet this red hood, master. But what if you do not find him? Who shall stand behind Lord Mark to guard him? Let me stay and guard him. I cannot do much, one armed as I am, but I can at least shout and warn him and his guards should he be in danger.”

Karl smiled at his young apprentice. Though this was their first execution together, Karl was already very fond of this poor cripple with the lion’s heart. “Do so,” he said. “Were your strength a match for your courage, you should be a great warrior, Jason. Guard him well, but keep at least one eye to your own safety.”

Jason grinned. “I shall. A dead watchdog guards no one.”

Karl returned to his room and looked at his great sword. He took it and half drew the flashing blade. He turned it over in his hands and looked at his reflection in the polished steel. It would be so easy… Then he set his teeth and thrust the blade back into the sheath. He hung the sword once more upon the wall and set out.

He went first to the square where the twisted, charred remains of Raven’s gallows stood looking like the blackened skeleton of some ancient beast. A few wisps of smoke still rose, and the ashes were still warm. He rummaged through three boxes of tools till he found the one where the strong cord for the noose had been stored. He took the coil and thrust it into his pocket. 

As he strode towards the inn, he grew afraid. He was no warrior or brawler. This red hood was an assassin, and he was an executioner. He was strong, a headman must be strong, but clipping the head from a bound prisoner was quite different from facing a murderer hand to hand. He was not sure how it would turn out, but he knew he must try.

He reached the tavern and went in. He stood in front of the tavern keeper and the man shrunk slightly at the sight of his black hood and purple tassel.

“A man with a red hood has been seen here,” Karl said. “Where is he?”

“I do not know,” the tavern keeper stammered. “He went out some time ago. I have seen him from time to time in an alley watching the palace. Perhaps he is there now.”

“Which alley?”

“The one that runs between the streets Arrow and Cart.”

Karl nodded and went out. He approached the alley carefully. He tiptoed up from the side away from the palace. He peeped around the corner, and there, sitting on a rain barrel, was the red hood.

 Karl searched around for a weapon. He found a rock that he would have liked to be several sizes larger, and fitting it in his palm, crept forward. He was about ten feet from the red hood, when the assassin hearing, or perhaps sensing Karl, turned.  Karl leapt forward and swung wildly with his stone. The red hood threw his arms up, grunted, and dropped at Karl’s feet with a purple lump rising slowly from his left temple.

Karl took the length of rope from his pocket and tied the red hood securely. If there is one thing an executioner, and especially a hangman, knows it is knots. Not just a noose, but how to truss a man so securely that he cannot flinch when axe or sword flashes. When Karl was done, the red hood could not move at all.

Karl removed the man’s hood. He looked like any farm hand or laborer within fifty miles. Karl cupped his two hands in the rain barrel the red hood had been sitting on, and splashed him in the face. He began to stir.

The red hood’s head lolled groggily for a moment, and then his eyes started to clear. He saw Karl standing over him in his black hood and purple tassel, and then at his own bonds, and he began to thrash wildly, trying to loosen or burst his bonds. When this failed, he lay still and looked up at Karl.

“Pity me, sir! Pity me. I have done no one any wrong.”

Karl snorted. “You have set free a noted fiend and murderer. You have burned his gallows to the ground, and you have conspired to slay the good Lord Mark. How many other, innocent man have you slain without mercy. And you cry for pity!”

“What are you saying,” the man whimpered. “I know not what you are talking about! I do not understand.”

Karl stepped forward. “You lie in your teeth,” he growled, and wanted very much to strike the red hood, bound though he was.
            “Please Sir!” the red hood cried, cringing in his bonds. “Don’t kill me. I swear, I know not what you are saying. I was hired. I am a hireling who understands not the words of his betters.”

“Indeed,” said Karl very coldly. “All the red hoods are hirelings. Paid blood money for the lives of the innocents they slay.”

“I am no red hood!” the man said writhing. “I am no red hood!”

 Karl crouched down and wrenched the red hood’s sleeve back to reveal his tattoos. “And what of these?”

“Drawn!” the man cried. “They are drawn on. I know not why.”

Karl seized the rain barrel and heaved it over. The red hood spluttered in the deluge. Karl took the red hood he had been holding and began to scrub the man’s arms. The marks dissolved into little rivers of black ink and puddled on the wet cobbles. Karl stood up and stared in amazement.

“Who hired you,” he finally stuttered. “Tell me his name as you value your life.”

“I know not his name.”

“Tell me his name,” Karl roared.

“I swear I do not know it. He never told me!”

“Describe him to me. What does he look like? What fashion his clothes?”

“Don’t you know?” the man asked puzzled.

“How should I?”

“He is the one that is your shadow,” the red hood said.

“What!” Karl roared. And he staggered back and his mind reeled. 

“I swear it is true!”

“You give me the lie! You cannot mean what you say. Jason is not…could not be…”

“I swear it. He told me to wear the hood he gave me and to paint these marks upon my arms. He said you would know the meaning of it all. I was to be seen by you; here, at the palace gate, and other places. I know not what it all means but your apprentice said you would know the meaning.”

“You cannot mean my apprentice. It must be some other.”

“The boy. The one who follows you. The one who ate with you at the tavern the night we first saw each other.”

Just then the bell of the palace began to ring. It clanged and thrashed and boomed. Karl knew. He knew almost as though he had seen it with his own eyes. He had left Jason to stand behind Lord Mark and guard him. Now the palace bell was ringing madly. He knew.

Forgetting everything - the bound prisoner, the ringing bell, the stone he still clutched in his right hand – he ran. Down the alley, turn, and up the road to the palace. His boots boomed on the cobbles and his tassel cracked like a whiplash behind him. Through the gates, up the stairs, through the door, and there lay Lord Mark being gently raised by two attendants as the red gore slowly spread and covered the marble floor.

Karl ran to him and knelt. He covered his face with his hands. He had failed. He had meant to save Lord Mark, and he had brought death to him instead. He had led the assassin to the palace, and then, great fool that he was, had left the assassin to guard Lord Mark. His anguish was almost unbearable. He wept.

Lord Mark opened his one eye and smiled weakly. “Why so dreary, Executioner. I am not dead yet.”

Karl started back. “But how my Lord?”

“As I said, I underestimated these men before, I have chosen not to do so again. I have been wearing a corselet of mail next my skin ever since Raven escaped. The red hood jumped me from behind. The armorers knitting turned the point of his dagger. He stabbed and slashed at me after that. He managed to thrust it once through the armhole and prick me deep, but unless the blade was poisoned, I do not feel quite like dying just yet.”

Karl stood and smiled. “I am glad, my Lord. But I must find this red hood. Did any see where he went?”

“I did,” said one of the attendants who was trying to staunch Lord Mark’s wounds. “When I heard my Lord’s war cry, I came running. The red hood saw me and ran up the stairs towards the roof. I am sorry, but I did not see his face.”

“No matter,” said Karl grimly. “His face I know well.”

Karl ran up the stairs. Jason. Little Jason with his imps face. Little Jason with the hands and arms bound round with bandages so Karl had never seen them. Little Jason. Could he be wrong? He hoped he was, but he knew he was not.

He ran to the roof and there was Jason leaning over the parapet, looking at the moat outside the city walls. 

“Do not Jump, Jason. You cannot escape.”

Jason whirled around. “The red hood. I could not save Lord Mark, but I chased the red hood up here. He jumped into the moat.”

“Where is your sling, Jason? Your left arm seems to have recovered well.”

Jason smiled. Slowly, amusedly, he smiled. “So you have found it out after all, Karl. Good Karl. Wise Karl. Innocent Karl. So busy looking for danger at a distance you did not see the viper that followed like your shadow. I admit, I underestimated you. You are far shrewder than I guessed. In your slow, steady way, you have plodded to conclusions that others had missed. I would have freed Raven and I would have killed Mark if not for you.”

“How did you free Raven?”

“Have you not reasoned that out too? When I went to the bars to tell him, in my best outraged voice, how we had seen the red hood in the tavern, I slipped the knife onto the floor. And you, so busy pulling me back lest Raven lash me with his hook, did not see the knife lying just within the bars where I had dropped it. Later, the guards, watching his left hook, did not see the knife in his right hand…until it was too late.

“You have failed. Raven will be caught, and Lord Mark lives yet.”

“But he will die eventually. I have taken money for his blood, and I must finish him. I will too…someday.”

“But why?”

Jason laughed. “When we first saw the false red hood in the tavern, you told me they tattooed the names of their victims on their arms after they killed them. You were mistaken, though I could not correct you then. We tattoo their names on us before we kill them.”

“But why?”

“To remind us of any jobs we have not finished. You do not believe me? Look and see.” Jason unwound the bandages on his arms, and swirling up his right arm, almost to the shoulder, were the markings of his rank. The marks on his left arm carried on under his shirt. Again Jason laughed. He pulled off his tunic, and the names covered his chest and sides, and he turned his back to Karl to show him Lord Mark’s name freshly tattooed between his shoulders.

Karl stepped back aghast. There must have been nearly sixty names in black ink swirling across the flesh of innocent looking Jason.

“You see Karl,” Jason said. “I am something of a master executioner too. I have a reputation to maintain. I must kill Mark. And I will.”

Karl clutched the rock he still carried and stepped forwards. “You shall not,” he growled through gritted teeth.

Jason whipped out his dagger. “Do not come closer, Karl. I have grown rather fond of you, and I would not kill you if it could be helped. You are strong and cunning, and though your views on who is fit to be killed are a bit too narrow for my taste, I still like you.”

Karl stepped another pace forward, his knuckles whitening as he clutched the stone. “You shall kill no more.” They heard a clash of armor as guards came rushing up the stairs behind Karl.

 “Yes I shall, Karl. But not forever. They shall catch me someday, and then I shall be executed in my turn.” The guards were almost upon them. “But my last wish shall be for them to send for you, Karl, to do the deed. But Karl, I would much prefer the headman’s sword to the hangman’s noose.” A guard lunged for him, but Jason jumped backwards off the parapet. He kept his legs straight, put his heels together, and dropped like a stone into the moat. 

Karl and the guards rushed to the parapet. Jason clambered out of the moat, and blew them a kiss. An archer drew his bow, but Jason was already running, crouching low and weaving from side to side. In a moment he was out of sight in a fold of ground. The guards began to swear, and Karl wished to join them.

That evening Raven was found huddled in an unused corner of the prison and was dragged out. His gallows was ready. Lord Mark stood by, bandaged and leaning on the arm of the captain of the guard. To do Raven justice, he was no coward. He neither shook nor turned pale as his fate approached. He walked up the steps, spit in Karl’s face as the noose was fitted around his neck, and died like a man. A pity he had not lived like one.

As they looked at the lifeless lump twisting slowly at the end of the rope, Lord Mark sighed. “It is never a pretty sight, but that one needed to die. One cannot tally the murders he had a hand in.”

Karl nodded. He was always very solemn after an execution. Though it was his profession, he had never come to enjoy it.

“At least you are safe, my Lord,” said the captain of the guard.

“I am afraid he is not,” said Karl. “The red hood, my erstwhile apprentice, still means to kill you. He told me before he fled that he has taken money for your blood, and he has yet to earn it.”

“Well, my good executioner,” said Lord Mark. “Would you care to change your black hood and purple tassel for a shirt of mail?”

“What, my Lord?”

“Would you be my bodyguard? You warned me. You stood behind me when Raven escaped – do not think I did not notice - and you risked your own life to chase my assassin. I can think of no one I would rather guard my life.”

Karl smiled very slowly. “I thank you, my Lord. You pay me a great compliment. But you do not mention that it was I who brought the real red hood into your presence, and it was I who left him to guard you. No, my Lord. If this affair has taught me anything, it is that I am neither a warrior nor a bodyguard. I am an executioner of Berion. I am neither wise nor strong. I merely do what others do not care to do that peaceful men may sleep in safety.”

Lord Mark nodded. “I think you are both wiser and stronger than you think. I am sad that you shall not guard my life, but you have chosen your profession, and you are an honorable man. If ever another as wicked as Raven should arise, I will send for you, my good Karl.

Karl bowed very low. He went to gather his few belongings. He returned and his two horses were saddled and waiting for him. Roger stood by, holding his stirrup. 

As Karl settled himself into the saddle, he turned to the keeper of the horses. “Fear not, Roger. The underworld that Raven once ruled will rend itself apart without his iron hook to guide it. I do not think they will bother to murder you; they will be far too busy murdering one another.”

Roger chuckled. “I worry a good deal, executioner, it is true, but now that I see Raven hanging, I worry less than I did.”

           Karl nodded. “One last word, Roger. When Raven escaped, what were you and George whispering and pointing at?”

           “Why you, of course. We thought,” he smiled sheepishly, “that perhaps you were in league with the red hood. After all, George and I owe much to lord Mark. We would do anything to help him. And you were the only one at the palace that we did not know.”   

 Karl smiled, and then, he laughed. He shook the reins, and his horse jogged through the gate. The other horse trotted along behind, almost like a faithful dog. He must get a new apprentice.

Jomini Struthers