The Two Travelers
If you were to have observed the two travelers from a distance, you would not have been able to tell whether they were traveling together simply for safety or for a common purpose. One was on horseback, while the other was driving a horse that was pulling a cart. Both horses were walking slowly. The travelers exchanged a few words, all softly spoken. No eavesdropper, had there been any, would have heard more than a word or two spoken.
The road eventually descended a long, twisting grade, reaching a junction near the bottom of a steep hill. The easy way through the junction was to continue to the left, which was nearly the same as going straight ahead. The other option was to make a sharp turn to the right. The rider on the horse turned to the right, and followed the road as it seemed to ascend another side of the hill it had just descended. The other traveler directed his horse on the easier route off to the left. It was now clear to any observer that the two travelers were not going any further together, and it would have been easy to conclude that they did not know one another. If the observer had seen the horse-rider catch up to the other traveler an hour or so earlier, that event would surely have done nothing to alter his opinion. And it would have been wrong.
The traveler on the horse, despite the awkward turn he had just made, was taking the more direct route to his destination. The other was headed to the same place, but would take a more indirect route, though it would seem just the opposite. The wagon began moving at a brisker pace, since it was now easy for the horse to trot with a gentle downslope to the next village. He slowed to a walking pace as he entered the village, however. The traveler, having no business there, inquired as to the distance to the next village to the west, then continued out of town in a westerly direction. However, three or four miles away, when he came to a fork in the road, he kept to the right, and instead headed toward the next village to the northeast.
The man on horseback was at his destination within the hour, and found lodging at a humble inn on the edge of the village. He went to the town square after settling in, and found a tavern where he could relax and observe the world discreetly. Before nightfall, he witnessed the arrival of a cart pulled by a horse, but made no effort to greet the driver with whom he had conversed a few hours earlier.
He returned to his inn at the edge of the village after a time, and passed the fellow traveler, noting where he was staying. He said nothing to him, nor to most of the other people he met along the way, though he did remove his hat for one or two young ladies that passed him by. They smiled but did not engage him in conversation.
The young man looked like a ruffian, though he was technically a prince--the king's second youngest nephew. He sat and drank one beer after another, joking and fondling two young wenches, one a blonde, the other a redhead. The traveler on the horse knew who the young man was, though he doubted the girls did. The prince's present was the reason the reason the man was in the village. The king had evidence the man was about to attempt a coup and have the king, queen, and most of the rest of the royal family killed, leaving him as king. One of the king's allies would be framed as the country behind the murders, and the prince would consolidate his power as king with a war.
It was the traveler's duty to play a small but imporant role in insuring that none of this came to pass. The traveler was the Lord High Executioner, and his part-time companion had concealed in his cart the executioner's axe, mask, and other necessary implements.
The prince was not aware of the fact that his plans were about to be foiled. Nobody knew of their impending execution till an hour or so before its occurrence. The prince would soon step out of the tavern, be arrested, imprisoned, tried, found guilty, and given a last meal. Then he would be hooded and blindfolded, his hands bound behind his back, and his head rested on a chopping block. There would be no reprieve. The king had already sealed his death warrant.
A confederate had unwittingly lured the prince to the village. He probably didn't know it yet, but the confederate would confess his sins to the court, then be taken out and hanged. The executioner's companion would use his wagon as a trap-door for the condemned confederate. That execution would take place during the trial, but hardly anyone would notice. An old tree in the town square would most likely support the rope, but the Lord High Executioner would not be involved.
The Lord High Executioner's face was not known. He wore a dark hood when he performed his duties. Nobody knew when he was in town, since he used an assumed name and not his real name or title when he identified himself. Since he traveled without his tools, nobody would find evidence as to who he was should they attempt to investigate his personal effects. His assistant used a false bottom in his cart to conceal his boss's property, and he had never been harassed for that purpose in any event.
"Billy!" somebody shouted from outside. The prince looked, saw his confederate, and went outside with the blond wench. Immediately, there was a commotion. The Executioner went outside to see, as did everyone else, as the prince laughed as he was taken away.
"He must think it's a joke," said one of the other spectators.
"Yes, a joke. Drinks for everybody!" said a wealthy-looking young man.
The Lord High Executioner downed another drink, quickly, as he usually did, and, lost in the laughter and drinking that now seemed to confuse everyone, wandered out into the street. He heard laughter from the jail, and wondered if the prince had any clue that his life was almost over. The trial would soon begin, and it would probably last not more than fifteen minutes. He noticed his companion was already throwing a rope over a stout tree branch for the confederate's hanging. That should take place soon.
As the Lord High Executioner approached his lodging, he heard the bell in the courthouse ring. A verdict had been reached in the first case; the confederate was about to be hanged. The next bell would be the Lord High Executioner's call. He found his black hood neatly folded along with his other black clothes in his room. His assistant had used some subterfuge to gain entry to the room. He dressed in the black clothes, then put on his other clothing over. He did not put on the hood. He walked to the inn where his companion had been staying, and found his axe and other equipment had been put aside next to some other tools. He quietly took them and put on his hood, knowing that he would not be observed while the other execution occupied the village's attention.
The bell rang again, this time 23 times, once for each year of the condemned man's age. The Lord High Executioner came out of nowhere, it seemed, and continued his solemn walk to the town square. The confederate's body hung from a rope in an old tree off to one side of the square; the Lord High Executioner would be doing his duty at the center. A slightly hollowed out block on a small platform was all that marked the execution location now. The prisoner was still being taken from the courthouse. An angry look was emblazoned on his face. The executioner had to make a decision in a few minutes. He knew how to make sure the decapitation would take place with one swing; but he also knew how to make sure it took two. Nobody wanted it to take two, but the executioner had total discretion as to whether he would take one swing or two.
Before the execution was to take place, however, the blond wench also had to be punished. The executioner had no interest in decapitating her, and the presence of a whip and a branding iron indicated that her punishment, while very painful, would not be fatal. It would be part of the festivities. The Lord High Executioner rested. The wench struggled while her skirts were pulled up to expose her bottom. The whip came across it seventeen times, probably once for each year of age. After about the tenth strike, she was screaming bloody murder with each lash. After the final strike, however, there was to be a sort of coup de grace: she was forced to wash, with her buttocks still exposed to the crowd, as a branding iron was heated over a fire a few yards away. The iron, now red-hot, was placed within inches of her face, while she screamed bloody murder. Then she was turned abruptly to face the other way as the brand was applied to her right hip. The screams could be heard all over town. She was then lashed three more times across her branded bottom. One of the men who had restrained her then told her something, and she went over and spat on the prince.
The executioner and the assistant now stood side by side. "Was that little show the prince's last wish?" asked the executioner.
"Most likely," said the assistant. "He's really quite a cad."
"Unless he pays me, I will take an extra swing, then," said the Lord High Executioner.
A trumpet blew, and the executioners stood at attention. "Prince William Joseph Henry, Count of Leftwich and Peer of the Realm, you have been tried and found guilty of conspiracy to high treason, for which you must suffer the sentence of death. May God have mercy on your soul," said an officer of the court. "Ladies and gentlemen, the Lord High Executioner has arrived!"
The Lord High Executioner carried his axe to the platform, and placed it on the chopping block. The prisoner was brought to the block, and the executioner removed his axe, then used his left hand to move the prince's hair away from his neck. There would be no gift once the head was down, and the executioner began his solemn duty. He placed the blade of the axe on the prince's neck, raised the axe partway up, and brought it slowly down, stopping just as it touched the neck. He raised the axe again, but only half as far as would normally raise it. He felt the muscles in his arms relax as the blade came down and partially decapitated the prince. The axe went all the way up this time, then removed the head completely. One of the ghoulish officers then lifted up the decapitated head and showed it to all of the crowd. There were cheers, boos, and other reactions, but the Lord High Executioner ignored them. He had done his job, and now needed a few drinks. The assistant executioner, now that both were ignored by the crowds who had evidently enjoyed the show, helped his boss to remove his mask and other gear.
The other wench was still at the tavern where the executioner had seen the prisoner earlier in the day. "I can't believe what that awful man made them due to Constance," she said. "I heard the executioner took an extra swipe to chop the head. I'm glad he did that, you know? I couldn't watch it. Did you watch it?"
"I saw enough of it," said the Lord High Executioner solemnly. "It's never a good thing when a young man has to die. But I guess this one did. They say many others would have died if he'd been able to carry out his plans."
"He wanted to start a war!" she said.
"Yes."
Early the next morning, a young man in a cart headed south of town, retracing the path the Lord High Executioner had followed a couple of days earlier. The executioner, meanwhile, rode off to the east, to his home along the lake shore. The redhead was never again as cheerful as she had once been; while the blonde, whose torture had left her crippled for life with a damaged hip, sat in a corner and stared at the streets outside the tavern.