Part 5 Chapter 4

CHAPTER 35

 

 

A

fter Moira’s visit Bevil is unable to sleep for the rest of the day or the following night. He is too busy thinking, partly of what she has said, partly of getting out like Sertia did. He doubts anyone but guards will enter this dungeon cell willingly so he thinks of other ways to get them to enter. But anything he tries fails, he tries simply asking for food and drink but when the guard comes to give it to him he simply drops it on the floor just barely within Bevil’s reach through the bars. He tries to pretend to be sick but no one comes to his aid. Nothing works, so he lies awake thinking about getting out, while knowing he isn’t going to.

  Since there is no natural light to be seen from the dungeons he cannot tell if it is night or day outside. He thinks of yelling out to get a guard’s attention then asking him, but thinks it will only make things worse for him. He tries to find out by himself by counting how many hours he has been locked up, but cannot since he has slept a short time and was knocked unconscious while being dragged from the main square.

  After many hours staring at the ceiling and the walls and finally the barred door, all the while his mind racing from one thing to the other, he and his fellow prisoners hear some commotion coming from the main entrance where all the dungeon guards are. They hear a lot of talking and a few hushed laughs, it is something important and something exciting.

  “What is going on?” Bevil asks the man in the cell next to him. The man is filthy and deformedly skinny. He is wearing a brown rag and his hear and beard is thin straggly.

  “They usually get this excited for one reason only.” The man says and his voice just above a whisper and filled with fear.

  “What is it?”

  “Someone’s about to die soon in a very public fashion,” the man says, his tone trying to be humorous and he wheezes out a laugh before coughing several times.

  Bevil becomes empty and thinks he heard the man wrong. But he didn’t. He asks the man to repeat just to be sure and gets the same answer. He listens some more to the commotion from the guards, it sounds almost like a joyful celebration to him.

 

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Like Bevil, Moira has spent all her time since leaving the main square in one room. But in her case it is her bed chamber. She was given a new execution order for her to sign, this one for Bevil’s beheading. She did almost instantly with little hesitation but a lot of regret.

  Unlike what Bevil did with Sertia she doesn’t go to his cell with the execution order to boast or any such thing. She orders that no one else will either and knows they will obey; at least until it is time for the execution itself but by then it will not matter.

  While waiting for the morning Moira thinks of Sertia. She hopes Sertia is alive and as far away from Tov’ra as she can get. She wonders where Sertia has gone, though it has not been long since she got away there has been no word from any village or anything about seeing her.

  ‘What will Sertia do? Her whole life has been in this castle.’

  Her thoughts are interrupted whenever she hears footsteps getting close to the door. Every time she hears them she thinks it is someone to tell her the execution is about to start and to request her to please make an appearance. She is dreading this so whenever she turns out to be wrong she always sighs, takes several deep breaths, and relaxes.

  Then it happens. While thinking of Sertia more and more she doesn’t realise it is early morning, the time for the execution, and doesn’t hear the footsteps coming towards her bed chamber door. She jumps at the sound of knocking, to her it sounds louder than it really is, like it is coming from inside her own head. When she hears the knocking again followed by a voice calling to her she furtively steps to the door. Before the third set of knocks finishes Moira calls out and opens the door a slice.

  On the other side of the door is Lord Wazilli, standing tall but a little embarrassed. She knows what he is going to say before he even says it. When he does start speaking she opens the door wider and exits her bed chamber, then he finishes and the two walks along the halls.

  During their walk the two don’t make much conversation. Wazilli does it out of respect for Moira but she doesn’t talk because she has very little she wants to say and none of it for him. They make it to the platform in the middle of the street far from the castle in good time. All the guards present are stationed on the platform or around it to keep the crowd at bay. The executioner is standing next to the block holding his axe with both hands in a tight grip waiting to use it. All guards and the executioner bow at the sight of their Queen, Moira looks away from them and makes her way behind the platform at an angle where a second wooden platform is set. This second platform is the same height but is different in that it is smaller and has a single chair to be used only by her. The angle of this platform gives her an unobstructed view of Bevil upcoming death. A set of steps is behind this second platform where Moira climbs up them slowly. Moira sits on the chair and looks out to the first wooden platform.

  As of yet there is no real crowd but there are stragglers that stop when they see Moira, believing the fun is starting soon. When others see the stragglers standing around them they too stop. Soon mumbled talk starts, wondering what is happening, if the execution is starting. But since Moira is in no mood to talk they have no idea whether or not they are right.

  Not long after Moira sits down the crowd finally forms, it is a large crowd, almost as big as the one in the main square, so big it is leaving little room for more to appear. The mumbled talk has grown loud but Moira cannot hear any exact words being said. They unspoken questions get answered soon as four knights walk towards them from the castle. They walk in a tight square, two in from and two behind them. There is a small space between those in front and those behind, a small space. One of the knights in front is holding a chain, it is rusted but thick, and attached to the other end is a set of thick shackles holding Bevil in place between the four knights. He is led through the crowd where they each throw rocks or handfuls of mud at him. He accepts the mud and rocks without any complaint.

 

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The commotion in the dungeon wakes all the prisoners. When Bevil hears it and finds out why this is going on his mind goes all over the place. He thinks of attacking as soon as they open his cell door, but then thinks he would die sooner than wanted or at least not get very far and be caught. He thinks of struggling and screaming for help, but to him that would be undignified and no one would come to his aid anyway.

  When all possibilities go through his head with no help his mind snaps and he becomes empty as he slumps down to the floor. There is no escaping this.

  Soon the guards come, all the other prisoners back away from their cell doors afraid as they pass by even though they know the guards aren’t coming for them. Bevil stays unmoving as the guards stop at his cell; he hears rather than sees the door open and two steps in. they take hold of his limp hands and he feels the metal of shackles wrap around them, then they lift him up and push him out. All three walk out with him ahead and a guard holding a chain attached to the shackles. When they reach the rest of the guards in the entrance room they all stand and watch. Some with blank faces, others with looks triumph and pleasure at the thought of what awaits Bevil.

  He is led up the stairs one at a time in a slow pace. At the top are four knights waiting, when Bevil and the two dungeon guards reach them one guard gives one of the knight the chain, gives a slight nod which is returned and the guards stand still as Bevil is entombed by the four knight and led away.

  He is led far, though it is a short journey with no unnecessary turns. Soon his blank eyes find a raised wooden platform recently built in the middle of a wide open area where several city streets meet. Through the crowd that has yet to notice him he sees Moira, at this distance she is blurry but he knows it is her. She is sitting on a chair, it looks comfortable but she is not, she is tense.

  Soon the crowd does notice him and begins pelting him with whatever is in hand. Pelting him so hard he feels better when he gets atop the platform making them stop. He looks first at the executioner, his executioner and gives him a long stare, then is shoved around and looks out at all those angry faces with empty eyes.

  This is the end and everyone knows it.

 

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The executioner is enjoying the ever-growing crowd. He has always loved crowds, especially when they are to see him and his work. Though he is not the type to ingratiate himself to the crowds or the royals by cheering them on make them rile up, he will at any possible time make a spectacle with the height he raises the axe, that slow second he keeps it hanging above him and the force with which he slams it down. It always works for him. Those watching always hold their breath as he raises and follows its path down to the neck of whoever he is killing.

  For this execution he plans to keep it in the air for as long as possible without seeming cruel. He wonders if he could ask if the death of Bevil Bralag can be done with him looking up so he can see his final expression instead of the usual way of him looking down at the basket.

  But it is too late to ask, all eyes turn to the four knights bringing a fifth between them. Bevil is here, it is starting. His grip on his axe tightens and he steps to his right to get into a better position.

  The four knights and Bevil go up the main platform single file with Bevil in the middle. Once there they stay in single file as all five go the edge, giving everyone watching a good view of the traitor. Bevil at first is facing the executioner, giving him a stare that tells him he wants the executioner to know Bevil knows what he is going to do, soon though Bevil is forcefully turned by the knights to face the crowd to take their verbal abuse as a kind of final punishment before his death. They give it to him with as much anger as they can muster, which is a lot.

  After a few minutes of this Moira stands demanding silence while Bevil is moved to the block. He is forced to kneel and his head is shoved forward until it dangles at the front just above the basket. When everyone is silent as demanded Moira turns to Bevil.

  “Bevil Bralag, you have betrayed this city and the Highlands, and by doing so have caused the death of several of its citizens. For this you have been sentenced to death by decapitation.”

  Moira is silent for a moment, the crowd watches her as she holds herself steady.

  “Have you any final words?”

  Bevil shakes his head. He waits for her to speak again but for a while he hears nothing. He thinks of maybe turning his head to see why even though he might get shoved around until his head is back in place. Before he turns she starts speaking again.

  “My family is breaking apart. My dear husband is gone and youngest son Olraym was to be crowned the new King, but he has disappeared, he may be dead too. My eldest has gone after him. I don’t know if either of them will return. Sertia was all I had left.” She clamps up for a moment them continues. “My daughter Princess Sertia Kvathrock did much the same as you Bevil Bralag. She schemed with people, she killed people, and she was to be punished for it. Though your actions may have caused death it led to her escape and survival, and for that I am eternally grateful to you.”

  Bevil is surprised by her honesty, especially in such a public setting. He thought she would lie or at least bend the truth a little, not tell it outright. He hates that she is using his full name, as if saying it like that distances her from him in some way. 

  Unfortunately Bevil has little time to dwell on Moira’s honesty, after her final words she gestures for the execution to begin. The executioner shuffles around on his legs, then stops and raises his axe and as promised he holds it high above him for a long second, the blade glints in the morning light and the crowd holds their breath for the inevitable plunge. It seems to go on for long but then he brings the axe down.

  One swipe, head off, done.