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The sound of the bullet shooting a hole through his skull resonates through the house. No one flinches. Not even Ines. Maurice falls face-down, flat on the ground.
“Better?” Girard asks Ines as if he’s asking a child he dotes on if her ice cream cone suffices.
She nods, and I can imagine the things Maurice may have done to her as one of Augustus’s soldiers.
Girard leads Ines to the first row of chairs across from where the branded men sit. He takes a seat beside her. He’s smiling like he’s waiting for a fucking movie to start. All he needs is a tub of popcorn and the scene would be complete.
Jericho and I are handed red cloaks. I glance down the hallway where they took Blue.
“Don’t,” my brother says. “We need to see this through. It’s better she’s back there and not here.”
I nod. He’s right. Jericho shrugs into his cloak and I do the same. Once they’re on, we’re led outside and seated in the second row of seats behind the branded men.
“Bring Mr. Thorne,” Girard says.
Blue’s father is pulled out of the cage and thrown to the ground before he’s hauled up and shoved toward Girard. His clothes are dirty and his face bloody. I’m not sure if that was Augustus’s men or Girard’s but it doesn’t matter. This is the end of the road for Un-Lucky Thorne.
“Knees,” Girard says, face hard, no ceremonial tone. He’s saving that for Augustus.
The guard pushes Blue’s father to his knees.
“You, Mr. Thorne, are a thief. And today is the day that the scales will be balanced. It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?” He holds eye contact with the kneeling man, but a small nod of his head gives the soldier at Lucky’s back the order he needs. I notice Ines hasn’t even bothered to turn around. She’s staring straight ahead at the block when the gunshot goes off and, much like Maurice, Lucky goes down.
I glance to the windows and am glad I don’t see Blue behind one.
Girard wipes a splatter of blood from his cloak, not that you can see it. Lucky’s body is dragged away and dumped out of sight of the camera. Girard turns back to the dais and signals for the lights, the cameras. Trae gives a thumbs up signal, and Girard begins his walk, his pace slow, steps grave, as he ascends the stairs and takes his place at the chopping block.
“Hear ye, hear ye,” Girard begins as he did on the video of earlier. “We are gathered here to witness a sad, but necessary event.” A soldier standing aside gestures to someone, and we hear the click-clack of the horse’s hooves.
“He’s making a fucking movie,” I mutter.
“He’s lost his mind,” Jericho responds.
“It brings me no joy,” Girard continues, hand on his heart, as he turns from the camera to watch the cart carrying the condemned man approach. “None at all.” He faces the camera again. “But for our great Society to function, no man can be above the law, not even a great Councilor of The Tribunal.”
The cart comes to a stop. I look at the man inside, Augustus sits stone faced but he must be shitting himself. He’s wearing a yellowed shift. It’s tradition with The Tribunal. The accused wear a particular uniform, just as the judges wear theirs.
A soldier takes out a great rusted ring of keys. He pushes one into the lock and opens it. Gripping the Councilor’s arm, he hauls him out. He isn’t pushed to the ground, though, and he somehow still manages to hold his head high even standing there in the shift beneath which he’s been stripped naked. His hands are cuffed together in front of him, the irons heavy and rusted. They aren’t props. They’re the real deal and likely centuries old.
“Lucius Augustus has been found guilty of the very crimes for which he has sentenced countless others. He is a thief. Girard starts nodding to the soldier to walk Augustus to the dais where he is made to stand facing the camera, one spotlight fully on him, the other on Girard.
“He is a thief because what is all crime but theft?” He looks straight at the cameras as music begins to play in the background, something old and quite frankly creepy. “Rape is theft. The theft of a soul. False imprisonment, murder, the theft of a life.” Girard pontificates, carrying on with a philosophical look in his insane eyes. I tune him out and look around, noticing the soldiers moving hurriedly out of camera shot both at the guest house and at the main house. “You’ve all seen the evidence. And so has Councilor Hildebrand.”
The music stops and the camera moves to Hildebrand who looks gravely at it. He closes his eyes as if the knowledge of what Augustus has done is deeply wounding. He stands, clears his throat.
“Many years ago, I vowed to uphold the laws of our Society and as much as it pains me now, I will keep my promise. As Mr. Girard stated, no man is above the law, and that includes us, the Councilors of The Tribunal, and tonight, Councilor Lucius Augustus shall pay a dear price for his crimes.”
“No!” Augustus hisses. “You can’t!”
The camera shifts back to Girard and Hildebrand resumes his seat.
“All thieves must be punished and punished harshly for what is to keep a thief from stealing again should he have his hands to take? His tongue to speak lies? I will tell you what. Nothing.”
He nods to a soldier to push Augustus to his knees. Augustus struggles and I see the flash of fear on his face. The soldier takes a fistful of Augustus’s highlighted hair and tugs his head backward.
“You can’t do this to me!”
“Lucius Augustus,” Girard continues as if Augustus hasn’t spoken at all. “You have been found guilty of extortion, theft, falsifying documents and information, and the heinous amputation of limbs. Today, you will pay the price, as sanctioned by The Tribunal and in accordance with our laws. Today, a hand shall be taken for a hand. Any final words?”
