“In Cardin they don’t use rope for execution. You will have to execute by blade at the end of ceremonies at the Harvest festival.” Marcos said quietly as the princess and officer looked at the floor. “Be happy, in some places execution is by assisted drowning.” However, not in Menthino he didn’t add. Any executor who did it once quickly retired.
The prince paled slightly and straightened. He tried to mentally distanced himself from the truth and used the distance of time to take some comfort. “Well…I guess… they could still be…”
Marcos clapped him on the shoulder. “This is the first day of Harvest. Why wait two weeks? I feel that we may need to start the process now. Bring the prisoners out to the wall.” Marcos said airily, and shattering the prince’s illusions as he dragged him out.
The ‘wall’ was an old execution site used for the other times of the year. Nameless smugglers and traffickers of all things died on the grounds. They walked out quickly to it and stood silently as the four men were escorted in. They had a moment to note the funereal atmosphere the shaded dank corner seemed to have. Blacken splatters of blood on the wall and crows overhead made the area come alive with morbid creepiness. The prisoners were led in after a moment from the opposite side. They had been shackled by the wrist and were all connected by a dark chain. They all were dirty looking and wore homespun or linen shirts and pants of various shades of brown.
The one in front was tan and rounded from living the farmers’ lifestyle. The other three were noticeably less tan and were stringy. The middle two seemed related, but the one in back had a hard cold look about him. He was steely-eyed and knew what the place was before the men were made to kneel.
After they kneeled, the prisoner escort locked the ends of the chain to the wall. Rings on the wall connected to both sides of the chain. It created an illusion of strapping them down. The effect was psychological for the prisoners. Like prison bars, they were restrained and held back from freedom by the cold metal they could see past but not cross. Like jailed prisoners in a cell, the middle two tried to push away the chain and fight to extend their world. The prisoners already felt the separation from the living.
The farmer sniveled and cried on his knees pitifully. Marcos hoped he would be the sacrifice to make a Prince who could save thousands as a King. The others were mere criminals and Marcos wanted Prince Carthin to see the difference before he killed them.
He drew his straight sword. The prisoners all flinched. He smiled inwardly, turned, and elaborately offered the blade to Prince Carthin who reluctantly took it. Everyone watched him for his expression, posture, actions, or words.
His lack of training showed, and he almost dropped the blade before using two hands. He stood aghast staring at it like a phallus of death extending down and away from him.
“Have the prisoners been questioned?” Princess Ruegin asked stepping forward. She still had more moves to make. The prince was left the furthest back as everyone stepped forward.
“You,” She said indicating the obvious farmer. “What were you caught with?”
No one who stood moved or spoke further, as the despondent man simply wept. The other three prisoners shuffled on their knees to look at him. They thought if he had a chance maybe they had a chance out of their unfortunate predicament.
“Hurry I have a harvest to administrate.” She said trying to urge him.
“I …was….I didn’t know…the…rocks were in the bottom I guess… Highness, I didn’t know.”
“The rules say nothing extra for just this type of reason,” Princess Ruegin said coldly. She turned to the next prisoner.
“You two had bags tied and sewn shut. They were full of fist-sized stones. You tried to sell half a cart of dirt to the Crown.” She said equally coldly. “There is no question of your intentions. What would you say on your own behalf?”
“We don’t deserve this highness. We are just trying to get along. The war forced us out here. We’re not farmers.”
“I don’t doubt it, rock farmers don’t live too long” She turned and looked at the next scruffy fellow.
Normally her Hjordis would keep men of his sort back. Here in the gallows, she could walk right up, look down, and examine him as close as she wanted.
“You tried to sell your ‘goods’ repeatedly to make money and it was found you were passing off nothing but rocks,” She said and square up to him. ”I don’t know what to call you.”
She turned on her heel. She motioned to the officer who brought a signing board up and handed it to her. The board had writing and title implements. Provided were a old fashioned quill, ink well, a blue stick of wax, a roller to dry signatures, and four unsigned execution orders.
“Prince Carthin,” She said formally with a small smile as she looked upon his blank tormented eyes and pale face. “These are the orders for the men before you. If you would be so kind as to check their names and sign, we’ll get on to the execution.”
He looked at her in silent disbelief. He looked at the sword in his hands and back at the quill. Marcos had to laugh at his realization of one of the oldest adages in the world.
“Yes Prince, the pen is mightier,” Marcos commented. “They aren’t dead till you sign for their lives.”
“Don’t tarry,” The princess said holding out the board. “Read out their names and sign after confirmation.” She used one hand to flip the pages.
“Nnoel Sangarnis.” He said shakily and flinched as crow overhead seemed to mock him.
“I am here, but this…” The third man said before a guard stepped up and raised his headthumper.
“Garen Sangarnis.” The prince said only a little easier.
“Aye.” The second man said numbly.
“Bassul Maggon.” The prince called out.
The forth man only nodded.
“Young prince it would be merciful to allow a man freedom. This is the typical custom during festival executions.” Marcos said now. The prince turned to him hollowed eyed with a pitiful look of pleading. The prince looked like he was the one to be executed.
“Perhaps that farmer, he has been productive for us.” Princess Ruegin said moving up and standing to block his sight of all but the farmer. “What is his name?”
“Rath Noggill.” He said numbly.
“Sounds perfect, give me his paper Monto.” She said expectantly. The prince moved slowly as he did as she said. Lifting with one hand the paper and giving it to her.
Marcos noted he wasn’t handling the stress well and seemed only capable of following orders at the moment. “Rinis, have the prince sign the papers.” Marcos ordered.
Silently, she moved forward prepared the quill, folded it into his hand, and moved it onto the execution order. Almost unconsciously, his hand moved and signed. Halfway through, his bowels released. Everyone was surprised at what they were seeing. Rinis took the signing board as Princess Ruegin backed away. Rinis as usual, was untouched by her surroundings. Back in the Manor, Ein was on the floor laughing with Mara.
“Wait, wait, stop.” Prince Carthin protested. His hand continued and dotted the ‘I’s and crossed the ‘t’s.