[ WP ] It is medieval times , and a Hero known throughout the land is about to be executed , you are the executioner

`` Here stands before you Robin of Loxley, scourge of Sherwood!'' The sheriff exclaimed. `` He stands accused of robbery, burglary, lewd behavior...'' He proceeded to list the rest of the prisoner's crimes. 
 
 I stood silent at my post, ax in hand. I'd sharpened it that morning. I had the honor to be the king's justice for fifteen long years, and in all that time I had never once allowed a soul to suffer through its passing. 
 
 `` What I took was ill-gained,'' Robin said to himself, kneeling beside me. `` I kept nothing for myself, in any case. I gave all to those who needed it. I did what I did with the best intentions.'' 
 
 `` That is the cause of many a man's actions,'' I offered, under the sheriff's droning. `` But what you gave was not yours to give.'' 
 
 `` It was not the king's brother's to take.'' He countered. His eyes scanned the crowd. 
 
 `` Fair enough, but you must know your place in the world. And perform your duty.'' 
 
 `` My place is with the people of Sherwood,'' he said, shifting his weight. `` My duty is to them. I must see they are fed, sheltered, cared for. John would leave them nothing. And for what, some lands in France not even he will set eyes on? A ruler must answer to his people first, not his coffers.'' 
 
 It was a fair point. 
 
 `` Do you have family in the village?'' he asked. 
 
 `` Yes.'' 
 
 `` How do they fare?'' 
 
 `` They get by,'' I said. `` I send what I can, but away from the king's ear no one would dispute our taxes are harsh. Still, they are left enough grain to get by.'' 
 
 `` Get by, or avoid starvation? I've seen what they are left. We've had a bountiful harvest these last few years, yet the people can only get by.'' 
 
 The sheriff was beseeching the Lord to judge Robin justly, though his heart did n't appear to be in it. 
 
 `` You do offer my family a certain amount of hope.'' I confessed. 
 
 `` Do I? I thank you, sir.'' 
 
 `` And I am sorry to take yours away. They will not come.'' 
 
 `` Excuse me?'' 
 
 `` Your men have been detained,'' I explained. He saw that it was true. 
 
 `` You suppose none of the downtrodden will step forward to rescue their captive hero? Imagine the stories they can tell, in the autumn of their years!'' 
 
 `` Heroes always live in the stories,'' I said, glancing at him. 
 
 `` Yes, they do.'' He replied, flashing a knowing smile. 
 
 `` They are just people out there,'' I said. 
 
 `` Yes, I suppose they are.'' As the sheriff began closing his statements the block was brought before the prisoner. Robin looked to me, then placed his head in the proper position. 
 
 `` One day they will recall this day,'' I said to him, quietly. The crowd waited patiently. No one called for his head; no one moved to help. `` It will be a grand story of your escape and the further adventures of the hero of Sherwood.'' 
 
 A soft chuckle escaped him. 
 
 `` But this is not a story, and you are just a man.'' 
 
 I raised my ax, performed my duty, and ensured another soul did not suffer.
