Page 4 of Dancing On Air

“Take that bag off the man’s head at once,” ordered Garrett, looking up to the top of the platform.

“Blackmore, this is my castle, and even you can’t stop the execution of this man,” Sampson warned him. “I don’t care if he is your friend, it no longer matters.”

“I am a Lord Warden and will have the final say. Has he had his last words yet?” asked Garrett.

“Nay,” said Sampson. “But what does it matter? He is a drunk and has nothing worth listening to anyway.”

“Executioner, put down your blade and let the man speak,” commanded Garrett in a loud voice. “Quiet. Everyone quiet!” shouted Garrett with his hand above his head. Finally, the crowd settled down.

“My lord?” asked the executioner in confusion, looking down at the men.

“Fine. Let the condemned have his last words,” said Sampson with a shrug as if he thought this was all a waste of time.

The executioner lowered his sharpened blade to his side while the guard pulled the hood off of Connor’s father’s head.

Connor walked over with Eleanor and stood next to her father, waiting to hear what his own father’s last words would be.

“Do you have anything to say, you fool?” ground out the prison guard. “If so, speak now.”

“Any final request?” asked the hangman. When he tilted his head upward, the sun hit his face. Connor cringed on seeing the burn mark across the executioner’s cheek, a sign of the many lives he’d taken, and a warning mark for everyone to stay away. He was old with gray hair and had many wrinkles on his weathered face. That made Connor wonder if this was the only profession the man had ever known. Sad to think that anyone would have such a job. No one ever spoke to executioners, and they were treated worse than if they had the plague. It was not a desirable job at all. It made Connor wonder why anyone would ever want to do it.

“Is there any way you can help me, Lord Warden? Please.” Connor’s father begged for assistance, but by now anyone could see that there was nothing that could be done. His father had made a bad choice. He’d made a horrible mistake, and now he would die for his actions.

“The law states that anyone killing a noble must die,” Garrett reminded him. “Was it done in self-defense, Sir Wensel?”

Connor’s eyes locked with his father’s. “Say yes, say yes,” whispered Connor, hoping if his father said this, his life might be spared.

“Nay. It wasn’t,” growled Sampson. “And I have a dozen witnesses who will testify that this man stabbed my brother to death as they drank. Sir Wensel killed an unarmed man.”

“Unarmed? Is this true?” Garrett asked Connor’s father. “Did you kill a man who had no means of protecting himself?”

Connor’s heart stood still and he held his breath, waiting for his father’s answer. What the man said right now would determine his fate.

“I was drunk, Garrett,” spat Wensel. “Mary died birthing our baby. Sampson’s brother insulted my dead wife and it made me angry.”

“But my brother was unarmed! Tell everyone the truth, or do I need to call upon my witnesses?” asked Sampson. “We can have a trial right here if need be.”

“Nay. Don’t admit it, Father.” Connor shook his head, but his father looked away and answered.

“It is true,” he answered, so softly that people in the crowd started shouting for him to speak louder.

“I can’t hear him,” called out a man in the back.

“Speak up, you fool,” said a fat, ugly, old woman.

“Say it loud enough so that everyone can hear you, murderer,” snarled Sampson.

“It is true! I murdered an unarmed noble,” yelled Wensel, sealing his doomed fate.

“Nay, Father. Why did you say that?” whispered Connor, closing his eyes, feeling as if he were about to cry, but trying to stay strong in this wretched time of turmoil.

“Father, do something to help him,” begged Eleanor, tugging at the Lord Warden’s sleeve.

“I’m sorry, Eleanor, but it is the law. There is no way for him to escape his death now,” answered Garrett. “Well, just one way, actually, but it isn’t something that any noble would ever consider.”

“What? What is it?” asked Connor anxiously, hoping for anything to redeem his father and save the man’s life. “Tell me. Save my father, please.”

“Continue with the execution,” shouted Sampson, causing the executioner to raise his sword once more and step closer to the condemned man.