Page 9 of Dancing On Air

He looked down at the crowd of people watching the execution. Most of them were drinking and laughing, since executions were naught but entertainment for them. The rich took their positions near the front of the gallows, not wanting to miss a thing.

The thief’s wife continued to cry and hold her children tightly. Then a group of nuns hurried in and knelt down right in front, starting to pray.

Dammit, he hated when they did this. Why couldn’t they stay at the abbey or in church where they belonged? This only made matters harder for Connor. He saw a cloaked woman with the nuns today. She rushed over to the soon-to-be widow and her children and wrapped her arms around them in a hug, trying to comfort them. Then that same woman turned to look up at him. When she did, her hood was blown off her head from the wind.

Connor froze. His eyes opened wide and he forced himself to take a step to the edge of the gallows to get a better look at her. He wasn’t sure at first, since it had been so long. But then his heart almost stopped in his chest, and he realized just whom he was looking at.

“Eleanor,” he whispered, seeing his betrothed comforting the family of the condemned man. Connor hadn’t even seen Eleanor since that horrible day when his future changed forever. She seemed to have disappeared, and actually, it made things a little easier, not having to confront her. She was a girl then, but now—now she was a beautiful woman.

Long, curly red locks of hair fell around her shoulders, seeming to bounce every time she moved. Her body had filled out with delectable curves. She was dressed in the fine clothes of a noble under her cloak. God’s teeth, she was a sight for sore eyes.

“Connor. Son,” said his father, coughing, his chest rattling loudly. “It’s time. You pull the lever today. You need to start doing it.”

“What?” Conner whirled around to face his father. He was only there to assist. Not to do anything other than to collect the dead body and haul it away. Or so he’d told himself, since that was the only thought that helped ease his pain and discomfort. “Nay, I don’t think so.”

“You are twenty-one now, and have been in training for this for the last five years. It is time for you to start taking control of the executions. Soon, this job will be yours, and I need to know that you can do it.”

“Nay, I can’t do it, and neither do I want to be the one doing the execution.”

“You have to, Connor. You don’t have a choice.” He coughed again.

“Well, I don’t want to take a life. I didn’t choose this profession—you did.” Anger welled within him, more so at himself than his father right now for ever letting things get so out of hand.

“Nay, you chose it for me, in case you’ve forgotten. You chose this life for all of us, Connor.”

“Dammit, stop saying that!” Connor felt ready to explode with anger.

“If you didn’t want to become the hangman someday, then you should have just let me die,” continued his father. “Are you regretting your decision?” His father’s sorrowful eyes bore into him, making Connor realize how insensitive he was being about this harrowing situation.

“Nay. Of course not. I’m sorry,” whispered Connor. “Of course, I didn’t want you to die. But you never should have expected me to make that decision in the first place. It wasn’t right and you know it.”

“Bid the devil, Connor, stop wallowing in guilt and step up and be a man! If you were a knight right now, you would have gone to battle and killed many men already. This is no different.”

“It is different,” Connor told him. “First of all, I am not a knight, although it was all I ever dreamed of being. And second, if I were a knight, I would have killed armed men. In battle. In self-defense,” Connor corrected him. “Men who were able to fight for their lives.” His gaze shot back to the condemned man. “Not a man tied up and vulnerable, just waiting to be killed.”

“You sound as if you think we’re killing innocent people,” snapped his father. “This man is a prisoner and deserves to die.”

“Really. Just like you deserved it?” he asked, seeing the pain in his father’s eyes when he said it.

“As much as it hurts to hear you say that, I know it is true, Son. I did deserve to die,” his father choked on the words. “I killed a man. By rights, I should be dead right now. Why didn’t you tell me to accept the blade to my neck? Why couldn’t you talk me out of taking this trade instead of accepting the fate I truly deserved?”

“Oh, no you don’t! Don’t lay this on my shoulders and make this my mistake,” growled Connor. “If you had been a man, just as you are now accusing me of not being, you would have taken what you deserved and not asked a mere boy to make your decision for you.”

“I was confused. I was about to die, for God’s sake. Anyone in my position would have panicked and done the same. I knew I couldn’t think straight at that moment, and had relied on you to do it for me.”

“Well, you could have rejected my decision.”

“I could have, that’s true. But I only did it for you and my other children.” They stared at each other and the air became thick between them. Finally, his father looked down and shook his head in shame. “I know now that it was a mistake, and for that, I am sorry.”

Now Connor felt even worse. “You’re not dead yet,” he told his father. “This job is your profession right now, not mine.” Connor reminded him. “And until you do die, I’m not going to do your bidding for you. This is all on your head for now.”

“I’m sick and dying, in case you haven’t noticed. You need to learn the profession. This job will be yours soon, and you will have no choice but to take it.”

Conner’s gaze flashed back to the ground where he saw Eleanor watching him intently with those big, beautiful hazel eyes, that were so light they reminded him of the eyes of a bird.

He couldn’t do this.

He wouldn’t be the one pulling the lever that sent a man to his death. Not now. Not in front of Eleanor. He didn’t want her to think of him as less than a man, even though all he really was now was the son of an executioner. Still, she didn’t need to see this.