Rough Justice - Part 6 (of 6)

The Execution of Jane Daniels

Standing in front of Jane, Ketch asked quietly “Have you anything to say miss?”. Jane looked at him “I’m a good girl aren’t I Mr Ketch?” “Yes Jane. Yes you are” he said, as Bridges held her steady. Ketch produced a white hood. “Would you like one of these miss, to put over your head-like?”. Jane shook her head. “No sir. I am told those are for cowardly people and I am brave. I am sorry for what I’ve done and I must accept my punishment bravely” she said, giving Ketch a wink.

Ketch sighed, took the heavy noose in his meaty palms, opened it up and then carefully placed it over her head, tightening it around her neck just under her left ear, the brown hemp in stark contrast to the whiteness of her skin. Jane winced as the rope scratched her skin, and let out a small gasp as Bridges pulled on the other end to draw up the slack, so that the excess rope draped over the top of the crossbeam. She turned to Kate and Sarah, with a heartbreaking smile and said “Be brave Kate. Be brave Sarah. It’ll be all right….really it will” and as she turned to face the crowd, head held high, the clock in the bell tower began to strike noon.

As the bell tolled for the sixth time, Bridges stepped back and nodded to Ketch, letting him know he was clear of the trap. Ketch in turn nodded at the drummer at the base of the gallows, who immediately started a drum roll on his snare drum. Someone in the crowd shouted out “Hats off!!”, not as a mark of respect, but to ensure that those with top hats did not obscure a view of the drop. The tension was unbearable. The sound of the bell was barely audible over the sharp beat of the snare drum as it tolled for the tenth time. Sarah and Kate both had their eyes firmly fixed on Jane as she stood, waiting, without a clue that she was about to die. Sarah could hear every beat of the snare drum in slow succession, and then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. As the bell tolled for the twelfth and final time, out of the corner of her eye, Sarah saw Ketch violently pull the first of three levers. She felt something shift under her feet and momentarily panicked, until she realised she herself was not noosed.

The lever released the bolt holding the trap in place under Jane’s feet. There was a sickening crash as the trapdoor opened under her and banged against its buffers. Jane let out a terrified scream as she dropped through the trap about four feet, before hitting the end of the rope. Sarah heard a nauseating crack, rather like someone snapping a carrot in two, as the rope drew taut with a “twang”. Kate had fallen to her knees in horror and looked on the verge of total collapse.

The gathered crowd let out a collective gasp, followed by a moment of silence as the rope swung to and fro, gently creaking. There was a murmur of discontent, and the sound of weeping, before a few people, clearly disgusted by what they saw, turned away and left, shaking their heads as they went.

The view from below was enough to turn any stomach. Jane Daniels inert corpse slowly turned half-round and back, her head lolling at an unnatural angle. Despite the short drop, her neck had broken cleanly, sparing her from a slow death by strangulation. Her face was white and her eyes wide in death, with none of the red/blue congestion associated with asphyxia. Many would remark later that she looked surprised, as if she had not at all expected what had befallen her. There was a sudden shout of “Quick! Stand away!!” from Ketch above, who clearly knew what was coming, as Jane’s muscles relaxed in death, opening her bladder and sphincter and splattering the straw covering at the base of the gallows with excrement.

The Brief be Damned

Kate was now inconsolable. It was as if she suddenly realised that her new found faith would not benefit her in this life, and that the miracle that she thought would save her was not going to materialise. Her escorts hauled her to her feet as Ketch approached her. “Have you anything to say miss?”. Kate looked at him, pleading, imploring – “Please sir. Oh please make it quick sir, I don’t want to die horribly sir. Isn’t enough that I must hang?” Her eyes were begging him for mercy. There was none to be had. “I’m sorry miss. I have my brief miss.” He produced a hood. “Miss?” Kate, openly weeping now, shook her head. “No sir. Please. I want to see. Please let me see.” He nodded, and signalled Bridges to take her arms to steady her. The noose was swiftly passed over her head and secured at the back of the neck. Sarah knew that she was about to witness a mirror-image of her own fate. She could barely look.

Ketch was nothing if not a seasoned professional. He had sensed the mood of the crowd turn as the Daniels girl had been dropped, and having no desire to bear the brunt of the fickle mob, opted for once to disregard his instructions and use his common sense. As Bridges stepped back and signalled he was clear, Ketch hesitated and then made his decision.

Bridges Takes His Revenge

“Bridges – Let’s do both, or this may turn ugly. You’re not an apprentice for nothing. See to the murderess.” Bridges looked like all his Christmases had come at once. “Delighted sir!” he exclaimed, moving quickly to Sarah’s side, and whispering in her. “I shall enjoy this you arrogant wench. Teach you to say no to Bridges I will!”. Sarah’s nose twitched at the stench of rotten meat emanating from his mouth. She was helpless. Trussed and bound, soon to be noosed, and it seemed her last human touch would be from this wretch – the same sort of character that had put her here in the first place.

Bridges put his hand on her exposed shoulder, thumb and finger forming a semi-circle around the right side of her neck. He gently squeezed, causing her to gag. “Anything to say?” he said, grinning evilly as his other hand cupped and squeezed her left breast, massaging the nipple. “There’s a few things about hanging I haven’t told you” he sneered as he continued to move his hand down her front, finally sticking his hands between her legs. She was astonished to find herself aroused, completely involuntarily aroused, as she squeezed his hand between her legs through the fabric of the dress and let out a low moan. “Have you anything to say miss?” he repeated, as she put her head back. Suddenly aware of the watching multitude, she blushed deeply, before her brain engaged, overcoming her senses.

She smiled at him, and he waited expectantly, but he did not expect the face full of spittle that greeted him. “Go to hell bastard” she said coldly.

Bridges face turned red with fury.

“After you” he replied, grabbing the noose in both hands, and violently tightening it around her neck. The coils were out of position, so he yanked them roughly behind her neck. She winced in pain as the rope chafed the delicate skin of her neck, drawing blood. The rope was tight around her throat, and she was already finding it difficult to breathe. She turned to look at Kate, who was quivering like a leaf, and who had been noosed and waiting for the drop for the best part of two or three minutes. Her guards were hovering close by in case her legs gave way, but she was just about holding it together. For a moment, their eyes locked, and Kate mouthed “Goodbye Sarah. Goodbye….” before turning away, whispering “oh sweet Jesus, sweet Jesus be with me now. Oh sweet, sweet Jesus…”

Waiting for the Trap

Bridges withdrew, and motioned to Ketch who had placed a piece of dowel between the two levers so he could pull them out together. Sarah heard the snare drum roll. She tried not to think about what was coming. Looking for a friendly presence in the crowd, but finding nothing but gawping faces, she shut her eyes and tried desperately to imagine a better place, far away from here. She could feel the impact of each raindrop on her skin, each individual fibre of the rope around her neck. She was breathing in quick gasps and so started to concentrate on her heartbeat to try and calm herself down. It wasn’t working. Like the tide coming into shore, wave after crashing wave, fear began to wash over her. She felt exhausted - tired beyond imagination, yet she was alert and cruelly conscious of everything around her.

An anguished cry from Kate prompted her to open her eyes, and from the corner of her vision she looked on with pity as Kate, bubbles of snot forming in her nostrils, wet herself, a stream of yellow piss pooling under her left foot and draining away through the cracks on the scaffold. Eyes front again, she found herself looking directly at the upper windows of The Haywain, where mug of ale in hand, she could just about see the Tavernier and his wife happily toasting to their good fortune with a group of well-paying gentlefolk. She felt like she was stood there for five minutes, an object of pity and ridicule, waiting for the trap to open, waiting to fall, waiting, waiting, waiting….

The Drop

And then there was silence. Ketch yanked the two levers in unison. There was a knot in the wood under her feet. She could feel it, slightly proud of the plank, under the sole of her bare foot. The floor shuddered as she felt and heard the metal bolt holding the trap closed slide open. And then, the knot was not there. She was falling. She heard a muffled scream and instantly recognised it as her own. Suddenly, there was a terrific jerk as she hit the end of the rope, but as the noose had been positioned at the nape of her neck, her neck did not break and the darkness she craved did not come.

Her eyes flew open involuntarily as the world before her swung left and right, forward and backward as a terrific pain assaulted her throat. Her legs kicked, flexing violently, as her feet, pointing straight down searched vainly for some purchase. Her struggles shifted the coils of the noose to the side of her head, forcing her head to one side as she gasped for breath. As she swung at the end of the rope, her doomed fight to survive turned her body to the right, and any morbid curiosity about what it looked like to hang was satisfied as she found herself face to face with Kate.

Kate was close to death. She had ceased her struggles and swung gently from side to side as the light slowly ebbed from behind her eyes. She died slowly, and painfully. Her face was contorted and purple, engorged with trapped blood, with tongue slightly protruding from between her lips in a deathly grimace. She had been a pretty girl, but in death she just looked grotesque. The rough hemp rope had bitten deeply into the soft flesh of her neck, choking the life out of her. The beautiful black dress clung to her lifeless body, making her look for all the world like a porcelain doll.

Death Comes to the Maiden

As Sarah’s own body twisted and turned back, she felt herself slipping away. The pain and stress to her body were so terrific that her nerves were numb to it now, except for the burning in her throat and lungs as the rope constricted, tightening, choking. It was now almost impossible to draw breath, her wheezes turning into rasps as she took what little air she could muster through her closing windpipe.

Her legs kicked a little more, but it was a wholly involuntary reflex now, and she felt herself shudder and spasm. The sounds around her were diminishing, replaced by the rising, hammering crescendo of her pulse in her ears as her heart beat ever more urgently in a Herculean effort to get blood to her oxygen-starved brain. Her vision was getting blurry and black around the edges. The effort of keeping her eyes open became too much as they fluttered closed for the last time. She sensed the welcome approach of death as it crept ever closer.

The rain had stopped, and as the sky took on a brighter hue, the improved light illuminated the capillaries in her closed eye-lids, making them look to her like the branches of a tree.

She was back in the clearing she had dreamt of earlier that day, in the forest, with its canopy of branches and leaves towering above her, occasional shafts of light illuminating patches of the dark brown woodland earth beneath her feet. She smelled lilies, and sighing deeply, rested a tired hand against the trunk of an ancient oak tree. What was it about that oak tree? she wondered. Exhaustion overcame her. Sarah lay down on the warm earth, bathed in a ray of sunshine, closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Aftermath

The crowd watched in respectful silence, seemingly afflicted by a collective sense of sadness. Ketch kept a careful watch, wary of any interference with the hanging bodies, and also in the interests of his self-preservation should matters turn ugly. He was eager to bring matters to a close, collect his fee and leave Braley for another year.

As was customary, he had been paid half up front, with the rest on completion, and a bonus for following his instructions to the letter. He expected to have to haggle for the bonus – Sir Hughes, who held the purse, had been most adamant that the women be executed exactly as instructed, but Ketch hoped they would see sense and shell out in any case, given his concerns about public safety.

The proceedings obviously over, the crowd began to drift away in small groups, with more than a few determined to find a drink to wash over the uneasiness of having observed such a chastening spectacle.

Within minutes the town square had all but emptied. Only a dozen or so diehards remained, overcome by morbid curiosity. The grieving Daniels family huddled together, finding shelter and comfort under the fixed awning of the local boot maker. The stillness was punctuated every now and again by the pitiful wailing and weeping of Jane’s newly bereaved mother and sisters as her father looked stoically on, wracked with guilt, trying his best to come to terms with the execution of his youngest child. Together, unkind observers would comment that they looked like a clutch of crows, dressed head to toe in black mourning clothes, as they waited - determined to stand vigil over their deceased daughter until her body was cut down and returned to them for burial.

Bridges was under the gallows now, motioning for two of the guards that had escorted the condemned to offload the pine coffins from the second cart. Each crudely constructed box was placed at the foot of the gallows, in front of the dangling corpse it would eventually receive. Bridges made a cursory examination of Jane Daniels, and seeing her head lolling to one side at an unnatural angle, called up to Ketch “Excellent work master! This one went off right quick – just as you said she would.” Ketch frowned in displeasure, before chastising his apprentice “Watch your words boy! Have some respect! That’s her kin over there. No need to make it any harder for them than it need be.”

He looked down through the second open trap, tapping the taut rope gently, and, being satisfied that there was no reaction or movement from below, moved to the third opening and did the same. Bridges watched with keen interest as Sarah’s body quivered, her breasts wobbling slightly, as Ketch flicked the rope from above. Ketch shouted down “Is it done boy?”

Bridges saw his opportunity. “I’ll make sure master. Hold one moment” he said as he fetched a short ladder from under the gallows steps. Placing it against the frame of the scaffold, he climbed up five rungs and, holding the frame with his left hand he grabbed her manacled arm at the elbow and swung the body toward him. Leaning across, he placed his right hand against the top of her still-warm chest, feeling for the heartbeat he knew had long since ceased.

After a long pause, which he hoped any onlookers would dismiss as thoroughness, he lifted up her head by the chin and pushed it his left. Although the noose had bitten deep into her throat, framing the rope with two thin red welts around the circumference of her neck, the blood it had drawn had made the noose slick, so that the coils at the back of her neck slid easily toward her left ear. Now that her head was angled toward him, he was able to lift her eyelids one at a time with one hand, seeing only white, as her eyes had rolled up into her skull as she died. Having taken all the time he reasonably could, he called up through the open trap “She is most certainly gone master. The job is done”, and then, casting one long, last, lingering glance at his victim, he stepped down.

Although the women were clearly dead, Ketch let the bodies hang for the regulation hour as prescribed by law. The town square, while not exactly a hive of activity, began to resume the few activities normally associated with a Sunday afternoon. To the uninitiated, it would have been strangely incongruous to see people going about the normal, mundane necessities of life as the bodies of three young women hung grotesquely still in the rising heat of a humid summer’s day.

Very few stopped to look at the aftermath of man’s cruel justice. Most stayed away, and those that had business in the square did their best to studiously ignore the stomach churning tableau by shuffling past, heads bowed. One man did take a keen interest however. He remained concealed in the doorway of the counting house, diagonally opposite the gallows, watching and waiting as the hangman and his assistant prepared for their final task.

Their roles now relegated to those of prop men after the grand show had finished, Ketch and Bridges set about their business with cold efficiency. As the bell in the clock tower chimed a quarter hour after one, at a signal from Ketch, one of the empty carts was unhitched from its horse and wheeled by four of the guards underneath Jane Daniel’s body, which now dangled a foot or so above it. The guards climbed aboard the cart, ready to take the weight of the woman’s body. Producing a large knife with serrated edge, Ketch quickly sawed through the rope, and as the last strands parted and gave way, watched through the trap as the guards caught the Jane’s corpse as it dropped and lay it gently on the floor of the cart.

Bridges hopped on, clambered over her and then loosened and removed the noose from around her neck. Unceremoniously flipping the body over, he unfastened a ring of keys from his belt, and, selecting the appropriate one, unlocked the manacles around her wrists, and threw them into a corner of the cart. Jumping back down, he motioned two more guards over, and with the help of two of the four still in the cart, they transferred the body to the waiting coffin and laid her down inside. Bridges placed her hands across her chest and straightened the dress. Had it not been for the obvious bruising to her wrists and the slight elongation and abrasion to her neck, she could have been asleep. Finished, Bridges finally waved, beckoning the Daniels family to come and collect her, before returning to deal with the other two corpses.

The procedure was much the same for the other two executed women, but as no one appeared to claim their bodies, the coffins were nailed shut, placed side by side on the cart that had carried them to their death, and conveyed to the undertakers, where they would be buried without fuss in the Potter’s Field.

With their tasks completed, Ketch went in search of payment, leaving Bridges to collect the nooses and place them in a cloth bag. These were the perks of the job. Many people believed that such rope had restorative and healing properties, hence the phrase “money for old rope”, and they would fetch a fair price in due course, especially given the pretty necks that had filled them.

William's Revenge

William Miller had watched every moment of the execution in anguish and abject horror. He realised that part of him had died with Sarah, scarcely allowing himself to admit that even after all that had happened, despite how she had treated him - he still loved her. His grief at watching her awful death slowly began to build into a deep-seated anger, which turned instantly into an incandescent rage as he witnessed Bridges disgusting display of voyeurism as he ostensibly checked for Sarah’s heartbeat.

Bridges had finished tidying up, and with Ketch nowhere to be seen, he decided that some refreshment was in order. Looking up, he grinned as he saw the sign for the Haywain and chuckled, as he thought to himself “Bound to be short-staffed today, thanks to me…” he never saw it coming. He felt a heavy blow to the back of his head, and stood, momentarily shocked and confused as a trickle of warm blood ran down the back of his neck. The second blow connected with the side of his head with a sickening crunch. Bridges eyes rolled back into his head, unseeing and unknowing as his knees gave ay and he collapsed in a heap, quite dead.

William looked out cautiously from his hiding place and seeing that there were no witnesses, dragged the body by its feet back into the alley where he had laid in wait. He covered the body with some refuse, disposed of the iron bar he had used to kill Bridges, wiped his hands and nonchalantly walked out into the square in quiet satisfaction. Sarah had been avenged.

The End.

Rough Justice - Part 5 (of 6)

Cleansing of Body & Spirit

Diggley, who had been quietly watching the girls as the Shire Reeve took care of formalities, started for the door. “I’ll leave you with the Parson here. I’ll be back shortly.” Bugglesworth had a placid if toady air about him, and began speaking to them in a calm, measured and mellifluous voice. “I have been informed that both of you know something of our Lord, Jesus Christ?” The ladies nodded solemnly. “Then you know that he is with you now, in your hour of need, and that if you repent of your sins and cleanse your souls before you die, you will take your place amongst all the angels in heaven. Now let me speak to you of the resurrection and the life of our Lord…”

The man’s voice was hypnotically easy to listen to, but the words faded into an indistinguishable melody of stresses and intonations as both of their minds began to wander, even as they absent-mindedly nodded in the right places. “…in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost…Amen” The last word shook Sarah out of her daydream. “If there is anything you wish to speak of, anything at all, I will be here to listen, but leave it not too late, as your time is short, and I do not wish to see you meet your death in mortal sin.” He sighed, clearly distressed that he had made little impression on his charges, and motioned to the guard at the door to let him out. “Peace be upon you my children” he intoned as he made his exit.

A large tub of lukewarm water arrived shortly afterward, dragged in by two guards and deposited in the centre of the cell. The hub-bub was enough to finally wake Jane from her deep slumber, and she greeted her two cellmates brightly. “Good morning Kate, good morning Sarah” she smiled “It’s my birthday today! shall we have a?” She looked up at the window, and noticed the gloom “Oh dear, it seems to be raining, maybe another day then!” Then she saw the bath, giggling “Oh goodness! Is it bathing time – I do feel awfully dirty!” Kate went and put an arm around her shoulder. “Happy Birthday love. I’ll tell you what, you take the water first love. Let’s see you clean, dressed and looking lovely.” Sarah examined the items of the table. “Soap, comb, white ribbons - even a scrubbing cloth! – Diggley has done us proud.”

She opened one of the three boxes and pulled out the dress inside. It was made of tailored black cotton, long-sleeved and ankle length, but its most striking feature was the neck line. Deeply scooped at the front, and with a shallower scoop at the back, the neckline, the hem and the cuffs were trimmed with a thin ribbon of white lace. She realised that with their hair tied up and placed under a white bonnet, each of them would cut a striking figure. In different circumstances, it would not have been unthinkable to wear such a dress to a country ball. Now she would be buried in it. Pushing the dark thought to one side, she turned to the other two.

“Isn’t it lovely – look ladies, one for each of you as well” she said, as she opened the other two boxes, revealing identical dresses. Jane looked it up and down “It’ll do I suppose” she said haughtily, but Kate’s reaction was quite different. She took hers in hand, feeling the material, checking the stitching and fingering the lace – and then looked at Sarah, and choking back the tears welling in her eyes, said “Sarah, I’ve never had anything so fine in my whole life. It’s beautiful. So beautiful…” She checked her emotions and put it back in its box, turning back to practical matters. “Right, Jane, you first, then you bathe Sarah, and I’ll have the last go. No arguments – let’s get to it before it gets cold…”

The girls took it in turned to bathe and comb each other’s hair. The two girls not bathing stood in front of the tub to screen their companion from prying eyes. Finally realising that there would be no free entertainment, the frustrated guards gave up trying to peek through the window in the cell door and returned to their card games. The room was getting brighter, but the rain continued to fall, keeping the stale air pregnant with heat and humidity.

After bathing, Sarah dried herself off as best as she could with her old dress. Kate helped her put on the new one, and Sarah wished she had left it a bit longer as she began to perspire again in the figure hugging dress. It fit her, but snugly, the deeply scooped front accentuating her cleavage. Had the cut been any lower, she would have struggled to keep her ample breasts harnessed underneath, but as it was, there was just enough material to give her a modicum of decency. She kept her hair down for the moment in the vain hope it would dry a little, as she attended to Jane’s. The girl had thick blonde tresses, which Sarah braided and tied up with ribbons, accentuating the fine lines of her delicate, swan-like neck with its porcelain white skin. Sarah winced as she imagined how the beauty of it would be spoiled and rubbed raw by the rough hempen rope.

Sarah turned to Kate, who had just finished adjusting her own hair, and beamed at her. “You look lovely” she said. “You haven’t scrubbed up too badly yourself if I don’t say so” she replied. A few stray wisps of Kate’s red-brown hair had escaped the ribbons and neatly framed her pretty face. Her bath had done her a world of good. She looked fresh faced, full of zest and life. It was so unfair to think she would be cut down in the prime of her life, as would they all.

The Last Hour

There was nothing left to do but wait. The rain had reduced to a fine drizzle but it was clear that the inclement weather was going to do little to dampen the enthusiasm of the waiting crowd. It had been building since they woke up – it started as a low murmur, but slowly escalated to an audibly excited rumble. It was obvious that the town was busy with comings and goings – mainly comings as they heard a multitude of horses and carriages clattering along the cobbles outside. As the morning went on, the sound of hawkers selling their wares joined the clamour, as they did a roaring trade in food and drink. The church bells had begun to toll the time at 9am, so the ladies knew how much time they had left from then on.

Jane was blissfully ignorant, but as the time wore on, Kate began to get more and more fidgety and flustered. Shortly before 11am, there was a big roar, and the crowd began to chant a name which Sarah was barely able to identify. “They’re cheering on that bastard Ketch” Kate confirmed. “he’s coming for us Sarah. He’s coming and there be no stopping him. He’ll come for us soon to do his job he will. It’s soon now, I know it is…” There was a sudden silence, followed by a bang and the roar of the crowd, before the noise reduced to its previous low rumble. They were saving themselves for the main event. The church bell struck eleven. Kate counted the chimes. “One. Two. Three….Eleven. One more Sarah. When we hear one more it will be finished.”

Sarah started as the cell door opened and Diggley came in. Kate, with urgency in her voice pleaded “It’s not time yet is it? They said 11:30 – it’s too soon – the clock’s only just struck eleven!” Her voice was on the edge of breaking. Diggley stood there, with Bugglesworth gawping, and just shook his head. “He’s back again for good now ladies. He’ll be with you until it’s done.” He let out a tired and resigned sigh. “My job’s almost done ladies. It’s been a pleasure ‘avin yer. Might I say befores I go just how lovely you all look. It’s a travesty in my opinion. A real shame. God be with you if you believes in him, and I’m very sorry for your troubles, really I am.” “Diggley!” called Sarah. “Yes miss. How can I help you miss” he replied. “That bang and crash we heard earlier – were there… others… today?”. “No miss, that was Ketch testing the, uhm, you know…” Diggley was reluctant to finish the sentence, so Sarah just nodded to save him from discomfort. He left, visibly upset.

Bugglesworth laid his Bible on the table, turned to the three expectant women and said “Let us pray” before falling to his knees in penitence. Jane looked confused “Are we having supper? Why else would I pray?” Bugglesworth arched an eyebrow. “Young lady, we pray for your soul, which is scheduled to depart this earth less than an hour’s hence! Now, do stop this silliness and come close”.

Kate whispered something in the Parson’s ear which made his eyes go wide, before he nodded in understanding. “We shall pray silently and then I will hear each of you in turn, should you wish to speak.” They knelt on the floor, in a circle, heads bowed, each lost in their own thoughts – all except Jane who fidgeted with the lace on her sleeve. “Can I get up now? Only my knees are getting a bit sore and the floor’s a bit sticky.” Bugglesworth nodded at her sympathetically. Jane got up and made her way to the bunk, where she kept herself busy by weaving together some loose strands of straw.

Sarah and Kate continued their meditation, as the Parson started praying with them in a low whisper. However, the noise from outside intruded too sharply into their little circle and served as a constant reminder of their impending fate.

Preparations

Kate flinched as she heard the grating of the iron key in the lock. She found, in Sarah’s eyes, the fearful recognition that the time had come. She grasped Sarah’s hand and together they got to the feet. Kate beckoned Jane over to them as the three stood, arm in arm facing the door.

The first person in was the Shire Reeve. As he walked into the centre of the room to meet the three condemned women, six soldiers in ceremonial red dress filtered in, three on each side of the room. The Parson, clutching his bible to his chest, so hard that his knuckles were white said, in a kindly voice “Come now children. It is time for you to be with the Lord. Be brave.” He turned away as the oafish figure of Ketch, and the snivelling Bridges slunk into the already crowded cell. Bridges looked particularly smug, and it was all he could do to hide his growing excitement when he saw the women in their lovely dresses.

Ketch stood directly in front of Kate, who was standing in the middle and whispered “No trouble Miss”. Kate did her best to look defiant, but her self-confidence and bravado had slowly ebbed out of her during the long, dark night, and any final vestige of resistance vanished as she meekly said “Yes sir. I’ll be good sir.” As she proffered her wrists for the manacles Bridges had produced. “Blimey, that’s an unexpected result” chortled Ketch, as Bridges bound her wrists behind her back. They were about to repeat the procedure with Jane, who was frowning, before Kate caught Ketch’s attention and had a quiet word. Like the Parson before him, Ketch nodded in understanding before turning to Jane.

“We’re going to play a little game. You’ve been a good girl Jane, but you know as well as we do that we can’t let you go – so I have to make you a little uncomfortable first so that everybody knows you’ve learned your lesson. Now, be a good girl and let me get these on yer. Do what the other girls do, and, if you behave, it’ll all be fine.” Jane nodded, giving Ketch a knowing smile, before stealing a glance at Kate and winking. Kate smiled wanly, her feelings in turmoil at being party to the necessary subterfuge. Jane’s hands were duly bound, and it was Sarah’s turn to feel the cold steel on her wrists. She stood, motionless as Bridges locked them in place, all the while fixing Ketch with a defiant glare.

With their arms bound behind them, they stood, waiting for the next step. Bridges produced three white bonnets, and placed one over the head of each of the women, neatly covering their hair, but for a few strands that had worked their way loose. The final step was to bind them at the elbows, something Sarah had been dreading, as her breasts were already straining against the thin fabric of her dress. However, Ketch was not rough. He tightened the thin rope between her elbows, pushing her chest forward and head back, but it was uncomfortable, rather than unbearable. Kate looked beaten. Jane looked fidgety. Sarah just wanted them to get on with it.

The prisoner’s secured, the Shire Reeve stepped forward and formally identified each of them, asking them to confirm their names and addresses. Satisfied that he had the right women, not that there had been room for any doubt, he ordered the guards to each take an arm, so that the women had a soldier on each side. Ketch called them forward. Sarah first, Kate second and Jane last. Seeing Sarah’s quizzical look, Bridges whispered “First on – last off.” She hated that he had been able to guess her unspoken question, but kept her thoughts to herself. He was an odious fellow, well suited to his task.

Journey to Death

Satisfied, Ketch motioned for the little procession to leave the cell. The Shire Reeve took his place at the head of the line, followed by the Parson, the prisoners and then Bridges. Diggley was nowhere in sight, and Sarah was saddened that she would not have the chance to see the agreeable old man again. Sarah could feel the damp, but warm flagstones under her feet. She couldn’t see around the fat form of the Parson, so was surprised when they emerged into the gloomy courtyard and was splattered by fat drops of rain. There were two carts in the courtyard, one empty and clearly for them, and the other held the terrifying sight of three pine coffins. One for each of them.

It was but a short distance to the waiting open cart, and it became quickly apparent to Sarah that they were going to get thoroughly wet. The Shire Reeve clambered onto the cart and sat next to the driver. Sarah was first to the cart and was helped up a small stepladder by her escorts. There was no seating, and with her arms bound behind her, she had to lean against the side rails, facing in and awkwardly grip the cart with both hands. Kate and Jane followed her in, and when the Shire Reeve was satisfied that they were well balanced, he motioned for the Parson to get on as well. The fat man, unassisted, struggled aboard and almost lost his balance, providing a brief moment of levity in the circumstances.

They waited for about five minutes after Bridges and Ketch had disappeared through a small side door. The women were clearly shaken by the shouted insults and invective clearly audible from the other side of wall. Then, as the crowd broke out into a spontaneous chant of “Oh my, I think I’m going to die..” the Shire Reeve nodded at the gatekeeper, who drew back the iron bolts to the gate and opened them wide.

The procession was greeted by a wall of noise. Around 100 soldiers had created a twenty foot wide corridor through the crowd, which ran from the prison, all the way to the waiting gallows. Ketch and Bridges were barely visible as they waited at the top of the steps for their charges. The cart lurched forward, almost throwing Sarah down, but she kept her feet as they inched forward.

However, as they moved away from the clink, something extraordinary happened, the roar subsided to a mere murmur as the crowd were greeted by the sight of the three young women in the cart. Abuse evolved into a sympathy at their plight, as cries of “Hang ‘em” and “Make ‘em dance!” gave way to whispered platitudes and blessings. “Bless you darlings” cried one old woman, who was soon joined by exhortations to “Be brave”. Sarah flinched as an object was thrown in her direction, ducking her head as it fell on the floor of the cart. It was a bunch of flowers. White lilies.

She thought back to her nightmare earlier, but oddly, the sight of flowers in the cart was calming. She was still terrified, but she did not feel paralysed by it now. Even the sight of the second cart, with its three plain coffins, still sticky with resin from the unfinished pine, did little to dent her composure. More flowers were thrown. Jane was laughing, bless her, her face upturned to the sky, relishing the plink plonk of the warm rain upon her face. Even poor Kate - Kate who had been so strong until a few hours ago - had a broad smile on her face. It was almost enough to distract Sarah from the ordeal ahead.

However, the fatal apparatus loomed large as the cart led them inexorably closer. The gallows was built under the wall of the courthouse, directly opposite the Haywain where she had worked. It consisted of a thick oak beam, supported by two posts at either end with diagonal bracing struts to help take the weight (not that there was much of it between them), and from it, even at this distance, Sarah could see the three hemp nooses dangling through the raindrops. The whole structure was covered in black bunting. The area immediately around it was roped off to provide a ten foot cordon between the crowd and its base. A drummer, with a snare drum, in full military dress, stood off to one side.

The Gallows

The journey was all too short. As the cart came to a stop, someone lead the gathered crowds into a hearty rendition of “Rock of Ages”. The Parson, looking pleased, jumped off the cart and turned to face it as Jane was helped down first. She looked more and more like the child her mind had regressed her to, and if it were not for her escorts, Sarah thought she might have broken into a skip.

Kate was clearly unsteady on her feet, but some part of her brain connected with the words the crowd were singing, and she had clearly surrendered herself to religious feeling. Sarah could see her take up the popular hymn as she sang the closing verse“…while I draw this fleeting breath, when mine eyes shall close in death, when I soar to worlds unknown, see thee on thy judgment throne, Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee.” She looked hopefully at the Parson, who nodded agreeably, before busying himself with his bible, vainly trying to keep it dry.

As the final strains of the hymn died down, Sarah was assisted down from the cart. An evening of rain, which showed no sign of letting up, had made the ground muddy, but she managed to get down with a modicum of grace. The sodden earth squelched pleasingly between her toes as the procession moved to the foot of the gallows steps. The crowd was deathly silent and the Parson, who had started to dutifully intone the 23rd Psalm, could clearly be heard as the women were readied for the ascent.

Held firmly by her guards, Jane stepped onto the wide but slick steps and tentatively began to go up them. Kate was two steps behind, and as she started her ascent, Sarah was gently cajoled by her escorts to follow. Sarah could not see ahead of her, but the Parson’s voice was clearly audible “…I will fear no evil: For thou art with me; Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me…” Sarah winced as she stubbed her toe on one of the steps. She could feel the grain of the wood under the soles of her feet. She could smell the newly cut wood through the rain, and was also acutely aware of the slightly metallic smell of cold sweat on her own body as it intermingled with the summer shower.

She reached the platform as the Parson finished “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever. May God have mercy on your soul”. The Parson moved to one side, but even with Bridges meticulous description, Sarah was not prepared for what she saw before her. He had said that the sight and proximity of the noose revealed the true nature of a person, and he was not wrong. Her courage made a concerted effort to desert her, as her knees went weak and she felt herself sag as her guards momentarily took her weight. Seeing Bridges knowing look, she quickly recovered herself, determined not to give him any satisfaction.

Her guards quickly moved her under the crossbeam, so that the noose dangled inches in front of her face. She looked down and saw the faint outline of the trapdoor she was standing on, the rain having almost completely washed away the white chalk “X” which had been drawn to indicate the proper position. She was soaked to the skin, and the nearness of death quickened her breath, causing her bosom to heave involuntarily against her clinging black dress as she fought to stop from hyperventilating. She felt slightly dizzy and nauseous and made a conscious effort to raise her head and meet death head on.

In doing so, she finally saw the crowd. They were packed in to the square, with people hanging off every possible vantage point to witness the spectacle. There was not a spare window, tree, chimney or lamp post to be had. All of them, looking at her - in morbid fascination - faces upturned in expectation. For a moment she forgot about Kate and Jane, until she heard Kate’s earnest voice, repeating the Lord’s prayer over and over.

The Shire Reeve walked to the front rail of the gallows, produced an official looking document and read it out loud. “Jane Daniels, Katherine Andrews and Sarah Thorn. You have been found guilty of crimes for which you have been sentenced to the ultimate punishment. With the power vested in me by the Assizes, it is my sworn duty to see that sentence is carried out against you, so that you be hanged by the neck until you be dead. I order this execution to proceed.” As he withdrew, Ketch took it as a signal to get to work.

...to be continued

(c) 2006 Son of Ketch

Rough Justice - Part 4 (of 6)

The Assistant

It was some time before Diggley returned with Bridges and a guard in tow. Without the dominating presence of his master, the apprentice hangman was at a loss. He was a shy type, uncomfortable around women, a social failing obviously enhanced by his ghoulish trade. He was flustered in the presence of the two women, who, when scrubbed up, would have turned many a male head. For some reason, he felt obliged to take his cap off, revealing an unruly mop of mousy hair. Before leaving, Sarah asked Diggley to bring by a few things. Nodding his assurances, he happily left the women and Bridges to their unusual conversation.

Bridges was staring. Sarah was still wearing her serving dress. It was a short sleeved white shift deeply scooped at the front to expose her ample bosom. The black lace up corset she wore on the outside inhibited her movement somewhat, but helped accentuate her natural curves. It was finished off with a now filthy black ankle length skirt. Her boots and stockings had long been confiscated. She had a pretty heart-shaped face framed by her long brown hair, which she usually wore tied up as was the fashion of the day. She had high cheekbones and deep brown eyes, a petite nose and wide, sensual mouth. Her mother came from Romany stock, but her father came from a long line of Saxons.

Kate on the other hand was more slightly built. She belied her Celtic roots with piercing emerald eyes, button nose and Brownish red hair. Hers was a one piece full length maid’s dress, modestly cut at the neck, but still enough to show off her pretty neck and give the merest hint of the pert breasts hidden underneath.

It was clear he was out of his element, so Sarah tried immediately to put him at ease. “Don’t worry sir, we won’t be any trouble. We just want to know some things. Things that will make it easier on us tomorrow. Can you help?” Bridges looked at them in mild panic, much to the amusement of the guard standing by the locked door. “Uhm, I, uh, Uhm” was all he could manage. Guessing at the source of his unease, she asked kindly “Bridges, do you have a girl?” Bridges knew the answer to this one. “No misses, I can’t say I do” Then, looking at them hopefully, “I’m sorry miss, It’s just that we don’t usually hang the pretty ones. Master says it’s very good for business when we do.” His eyes settled on Sarah’s chest. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but those are very nice miss.” Then, with a sudden look of mischief in his eye, his eyes darted to the bored looking guard and then back to Sarah. “It might help me be less nervous-like miss if I could have a little feel…”

Sarah’s goodwill vanished immediately. “Certainly not! I’m not a harlot and never will be. If that’s the price for your information, you can keep it.” Bridges was in no hurry to absent himself from their company. He knew that his window was between now and noon tomorrow, it was unlikely that the opportunity to stay in the company of two such good-looking women would come his way again any time soon. He reverted to type, easing back into the oily obsequiousness that typified his dialogue with Ketch. “Begging you pardon miss, I meant no offence. Forgive us for our… indiscretion.” Sarah harrumphed. “Bloody forgiveness again – I’m the one being executed and they’re all after MY forgiveness.” She took a deep breath before continuing.

Kate moved over to the bed to check Jane was still asleep. When she returned, Sarah started her inquisition. “Now Mr. Bridges. Kate here wants to know if its painful, and for that matter, so do I. Ketch mentioned something about assistance and payment. What was that all about?

Bridges eyes lit up. This was his job after all. He was keen to impress with his acumen even without the reward he had wanted. Their rapt attention had to be reward enough, besides, there would be plenty of opportunities for the other thing when they were trussed up good and proper like little chickens.

“Well, there’s two ways about it. The posh hangmen get all la-de-dah about some new drop method they use up in London, using all sorts of weights and measures, but Ketch has always been partial to see his customers do the old air dance. It makes for a better show you see. Time was the rich folks would get the chop if they misbehaved, but ever since they settled on the gallows for everyone, them rich folk have been trying to make things as quick as possible for their sort. Getting to the point of it. I’m told it can be painful, but if you gets lucky, the fall breaks your neck and you go off all quiet-like. Only begging your pardon, I’m terribly sorry to tell you that generally it’s only the fat and plump ones who go that way on account of their weight pulling them down. I bet you girls wish you’d had a few more pies now eh?”

Kate was getting annoyed “Get on with it Bridges else I make good on my promise to Ketch and give you one where it hurts”. Bridges looked startled “He said you’d be a bother he did, and he’s usually right. Now, where was we. Yes. I remember. Right. The rope we use is made of good inch-thick triple braided Indian hemp, which is stretched on a weight overnight to cure it of any spring or bounce. That’s because don’t want you bouncing up and down like a puppet when you hit the end. Then we make the noose up, usually with thirteen coils – the gallows has thirteen steps too – unlucky that is!. Anyway, if these coils are put at the back of the neck, then you’ll die a slower death by strangulation as the rope squeezes your neck closed and starves your brain of air. However, if the knot is tied under your left ear and the drop is properly sorted, then there’s a good chance your neck will break and you’ll snuff it more of less instant-like.”

Sarah considered this calmly. “You still haven’t answered the question, what was Ketch on about?” Bridges sighed. “That’s the bad news. Normally, assistance is given to those who pay. Slip us some silver and we’ll jump on your shoulders or pull on your legs until your neck snaps and you expire. But we’re under strict rules to do this the old way. Someone out there wants you to pay. We’re to noose you behind the neck and give you a short drop. All except the baby-killer. Her father knows people and she’ll die quick. What Ketch said before was to scare the daylights out of ya. But you don’t look the type to scare easy. It’s wasted on her anyway” he said, jerking his thumb in Jane’s general direction. “She’s a scared rabbit."

“Not anymore she’s not” said Kate “her mind is gone. She’ll be no trouble.” Bridges nodded. “For the best I suppose” he said.

“What will happen tomorrow morning?” asked Sarah bringing them back on topic. “We’ll come in and fetch you around half eleven” said Bridges, “You’ll be asked to tie up your hair if you haven’t already done so and then given a white bonnet to wear over it. We then tie your hands behind your back. With girls like you, Ketch likes to tie the arms at the elbows as well as it makes you chest stick out. We leave the leg irons off as it makes the job more trouble than it’s worth. When you’re ready and trussed up, you’ll be shackled together and taken in an open horse drawn cart to the gallows – it’s not far from here – and the holy man will be with you to give you some solace if you go for that sort of thing. Don’t worry about the crowd. They were a bit unruly this afternoon, but they’re usually proper respectful on a hanging day. Once we get there, you’ll be helped up the gallows steps. This is when it gets a bit difficult sometimes, as prisoners react in very different ways when they see the nooses dangling there. It brings it home to them. You won’t know what you’ll do until you get there, but for your sakes, I hope you find the courage to face it with dignity.

We’ve had to drop a few girls in dead faint in the last couple of years – I remember Mary Brady in Cheltenham last year. Plain looking girl – poisoned her mistress – like a sack of potatoes she was. Poor dear hadn’t the foggiest what was happening to her, but they told us to get on with it, so we did. She had to be held by the arms, one guard each side of the trap. They almost forgot to let go when it opened and one almost followed her through. He caught the rope instead to stop himself, spinning the old girl half-round and back a few times, but funny enough it probably killed her quicker.”

“Anyway” he continued “where was I again. Hmm. Yes. I know. We’re on the scaffold now. We line you up in front of the nooses - like we did when we came in before – but we didn’t have the nooses then obviously. You then get a chance to say your piece, but not long mind, the masses don’t like to be kept waiting. You are offered a white hood – that’s the law. Some unfortunates like to have it, some don’t – you takes your choice, and if you accept, it goes over your head. We noose you as instructed while the holy man reads the Psalms, and when he gets to the Amen part, Ketch’ll pull the lever and down she’ll go.

“Usually we’d drop you together, but orders is orders, so that one goes first” he said, pointing at Jane again. “and if she struggles she gets assistance. You’ll know she’s gone as we won’t hood you until we’re ready drop the next one. Once we’re happy she’s with the angels, you” this time pointing at Kate “go next. We’ll leave you to your struggles – no assistance mind - and shortly after you hit the end of the rope, we drop Sarah here. The law says we have to leave you to hang for an hour before letting you down. Then you are put in the pine coffins you came with, and if the court is merciful, released to your kin for burial.”

Kate and Sarah sat silently as Bridges concluded his morbid lesson. It was Sarah who spoke first. “The judge. The old rheumy one who sentenced me, do you know of him?” Yes I do, why do you ask?” replied Bridges. “I thought he was having a seizure at the time, do you know of his ailment?” Sarah replied. “Ah yes, his name is Mr Justice Cartwright, but they call Mr Justice Spunk.” Perplexed she asked “Why is that?” Bridges laughed “That’s because he’s usually busy pleasuring himself when he sentences women to hang. I gather he got his timing wrong today…”

Aghast, Sarah rose and purposefully moved toward the cell door “Thank you for your frankness Mr Bridges. You have been most helpful. Now, if you don’t mind, please excuse us as we prepare ourselves to play our part in your spectacle.” Bridges looked longingly at Sarah’s breasts, before nodding toward the guard and heading to the door. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back and said, maliciously “You have nice strong necks. You’re going to dance for us just fine.”

Sleep

Sarah did not know how long it had been since Bridges left. The lamps Diggley had provided for them had been dimmed to conserve oil – they had to last until dawn. Jane was still asleep on the straw bed and showed no signs of waking. She was glad for that. The through-the-night ordeal would have been difficult enough without having to listen to the pathetic ramblings of her disconnected mind. The fraught day had caught up with Kate, who was sat on the floor, leaning against the wall and fitfully dozing.

Without any working church bells, clock towers or other time-keeping devices within earshot or sight, Sarah became fixated on the small window high up on the wall, waiting to see the darkness lighten into the dawn. She thought she might hear the birds first, they usually started an hour or so before the sun actually came up, and so sat down and closed her eyes for a brief moment, imagining that the dank, humid air was actually a warm summer breeze caressing her face.

Her imagination took her away from the day’s torments, and was momentarily transported to clearing in a bright and airy forest. She could smell the sweet smell of the earth, and feel the woodland debris under her bare feet. She reached out a hand to feel the rough bark of the ancient oak tree beside her, and let her fingers caress the nooks and crannies of its crenulated bark. Then, in front of her, she saw a patch of white lilies. They intrigued her. There was something not quite right about them. She looked again, disconcerted now. What was it about lilies? Then she remembered. They were the flowers most often given at funerals… flowers for the dead.

The summer breeze turned chilly as she suddenly sensed movement above her. She craned her neck to look up at the branches above - just as a hangman’s noose dropped out of nowhere and seized her around her throat. She gasped in shock, as the rope constricted tightly around her neck and jerked her off her feet. She tried to scream, but she could not breathe, her vision was going black… and she woke up, sitting bolt upright with a violent start, heaving for breath, before slumping back against the wall and gathering her wits.

She had no idea how long she had been asleep, but a quick glance at the dirty window quickly confirmed it had been much longer than she intended. The oil lamps had burned out and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see the cell was starting to fill with a blue-ish kind of gloom heralding the coming dawn.

She couldn’t hear the birds, and she was puzzled for a moment until she heard the soft patter of rain on the stones outside. Kate stirred, rubbing and opening her eyes, momentarily confused until she remembered her whereabouts. Jane was still soundly asleep. “Sarah – what time is it?” said Kate “I need to know what time it is. I need to know…” Sarah looked at her kindly. “I don’t know, but we’ll ask Diggley when he comes next.” She was worried. It wasn’t getting any lighter and there was no way to tell how long she had dozed off for. Her answer was not long in coming.

Hope Extinguished

There was movement by the door, as the heavy iron key turned in the lock and their benevolent jailer made his way into the room, followed by a jolly looking fat man with a white priests collar. With a sharp intake of breath, Sarah practically whispered to Diggley, who was fussing by the table “Sir, what time is it sir? Is it the morrow already?” Diggley looked up from some of the articles he was busying himself with, and said, solemnly. “It is seven o’clock miss. I came in earlier, but as youse were all asleep I didn’t have the heart to wake you. It’ll have done you all some good miss.” Five hours left. Five short hours. She had been asleep for six long hours. Six wasted hours. She felt like weeping. She looked at Kate, who took the news in her stride, nodding to herself and mumbling incoherently.

Diggley broke the awkward silence. “Ladies. I give you Parson Bugglesworth. He is here to speak with you about salvation of your souls and some other gubbins if you’re of a mind to hear it.” The Parson bowed courteously, “The good Lord be with you in your hour of desperate need.” Diggley sighed. “Bugglesworth, save it for later. I have some announcements for the benefit of these ladies, and would be most obliged if you’d keep your gob shut while I get on with it.”

“Miss Andrews, it seems your mistress was not as heartless as you might of thought.” He motioned to the door and a guard walked in carrying three equal sized boxes. “She has taken pity on you and your fellow strugglers, and in a fit of untypical generosity, has asked me to present you ladies with the gift of these three dresses. They’re not much, but they are clean, and she thought you might like to present yourselves well to your Lord as you stand before him in judgment.” The guard deposited the boxes on the table. Diggley motioned to it, “I’ve brought you some things, at Miss Thorn’s request, so you can scrub up nice and proper and make yourselves presentable. When Parson is finished, or when you’ve ‘ad enough of him, I’ll bring in a tub and some water so’s you can wash.” The guard departed.

No sooner than he had left, than the Shire Reeve appeared, looking pale and nervous. He cleared his throat. “Miss Thorn, Miss Andrews… is Miss Daniels asleep?”, “Yes, she is” said Kate “What is it to you?”. “I have official news for you” said the Shire Reeve, “and as it will not be pleasing to hear, I do not think there is anything to gain by waking Miss Daniels up.” He reached into his coat and withdrew three scrolls of parchment. “Ladies, it is my unpleasant duty to convey to you the orders which are written on these scrolls. Having examined all three, I can vouch that they are identical, so to spare you further troubles, I shall read only one, unless you have strong objection to this.” Kate turned away, waving her hand dismissively “Just get on with it.”

The Shire Reeve unrolled one of the scrolls, which had been bound by red ribbon and started reading “On this day, Sunday the 30th of July, in the year of our Lord eighteen twenty one, it is confirmed that Miss Sarah Thorn, having been found guilty of murder before the Assizes held at Braley-upon-Avon on the Saturday preceding, and having been sentenced to death by hanging, has had her case duly considered by Court of Appeals, who having regard to all the facts and circumstances of her case, find no cause for mitigation and hereby deny clemency. The office of the Shire Reeve is therefore requested to officiate upon, and expedite the execution of said sentence no later than the hour of noon on this day. May God have mercy on her wretched soul.”

The Shire Reeve stopped reading, and looked down to the floor “The outcome is the same for Miss Andrews and Miss Daniels. I am truly sorry, I thought all of you were good for transportation, but it appears the powers that be have other ideas.” He sighed. “What you do now is for yourselves to decide, but I am bound to say that it will go better for you if you come quietly when the time comes. Some find comfort in what the Parson here has to say. I hope you do.” With that, and with eyes still fixed firmly on the floor, he turned on his heel and strode out.

... to be continued.

(c) 2006 - Son of Ketch - Do not reproduce without permission (sonofketch@yahoo.co.uk)

Rough Justice - Part 3 (of 6)

The Clink

The words rang in her ears. She knew what they were. Heaven knows she’d heard them twice before that morning, but the finality of them still made her shiver uncontrollably. She didn’t feel as if she should be in shock, in a strange way she felt fine, but there was no stopping her body and mind’s natural reaction to the extreme emotions of the day. Her legs felt they were set in concrete, her mind in a fog. As she was led down the stairs into the cells below the court, she could see in her mind’s eye, over and over again, Jane’s face as the wide-eyed girl plaintively mouthed the words …“Do they mean to hang me?”.

She was led past two empty cells, and as she was walked down the passage, she turned to one her guards in sudden fear and asked “Where am I going? Surely it’s not now, surely there is some time?!” The bailiff let out a throaty chuckle. “Hush child, you’re to be held in the clink across the way - the three of you swing together tomorrow morning. You’ll draw quite a crowd. When the second one got the noose, there was already talk of special stagecoaches being laid on from as far as Bath. They’ll probably come from Newbury and Oxford as well now there’s three of ya. It’s not often we get three pretty maidens turned off together. People pay extra to see that.”

She shook her head “What do you mean pay? People pay to watch us die?!” The bailiff explained. “ There’s no permanent gallows here in Braley and you’re the first hanging cases these Assizes, so they’re building one special for you poor wretches. It’ll be in the town square. Lots of windows overlooking the town square. People pays a handsome price to get one of them windows for an offing. Some of them fetch enough for a family to live on for quite some time. I reckon the top windows of your own Haywain should go for a pretty penny, so in a ways, you’ll be repaying the Tavernier for all the grief you’ve caused him, and quite right too! That’s not all, they’re be a roaring trade in news sheets, vittles, drink and keepsakes – they’ll be drinking you into the next world and singing your praises by tomorrow night!”.

She was momentarily blinded as they stepped out of a reinforced oak door and into the bright sunlight. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that she was in the closed courtyard of the magistrates court and she was being led to the waiting prison wagon in the yard. She clambered up the small stepladder into the cage and took a place opposite Jane and Katherine.

Jane was obviously in a bad way, the front of her dress was seemingly saturated with tears as she continued her pitiful sobbing. She was being comforted by the more stoic Katherine, who turned to Sarah with a smile. “Takes my mind off things. I reckon if I get her through this, I might not notice myself. Got to be brave. Brave for her. I don’t want to go out like some quivering lump. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m forgetting myself. The name’s Katherine. My friends call me Kate. Don’t have many of them now” she laughed, and giving Sarah a playful nudge said “They’re giving me a hemp necklace tomorrow – I hope it’s pretty!”.

The words caught in her throat. She was trying hard to keep things together. She momentarily looked down at her shackled ankles and then, looking up briefly said “I deserve it you know, for what I did. Not that knowing counts for much. You know what’s mad? I stole a proper gold necklace last month and they didn’t nick me for that. Should have stopped while the going was good. Now, your story - that is rough – wouldn’t have done nothing different myself. Sounds like the same cretin that knocked poor Jane up. Must be some sort of record – dead fella sends two girls to the gallows. What are the chances eh?”.

Sarah looked at her. “I’m Sarah, Sarah Thorn. Pleased to meet you. Don’t lose hope, they’ll send us to the colonies yet. I hear they need people. They won’t let good stock like us swing. Don’t worry.” She said it brightly, but it was without conviction, and the words rang hollow in her ears even as she said them.

The women sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, interrupted only by Jane’s ceaseless sobbing. With a crack of the whip, the wagon ground into motion. As the courtyard gates swung open, there was a brief silence before someone shouted “It’s them! It’s the gallows birds!” before a wall of noise that greeted them. Almost instantly, the wagon was surrounded, its heavy iron bars all that stood between them and a baying mob.

The women cringed and ducked, as a hail of rotten food pelted them, finding scant refuge in the bottom of the cart. They were halted, and waited until a platoon of soldiers managed to form a moving corridor around them, but the remainder of the journey was mercifully short. At the prison gates, the soldiers formed a protective cordon around the back of the wagon. The three women managed to sit up again, now protected against the crowing crowd and their missiles.

As they waited for the gate to open, Sarah noticed a team of carpenters just under the prison wall and realised with morbid fascination, that tomorrow morning, she, Sarah Thorn, and her companions - Katherine Andrews and Jane Daniels - would hang from the gallows they were building. The cart jerked forward, and the gates shut behind them, cutting off the sunlight as they entered the gloomy forecourt of the clink.

The Night Before the Last Day

The room they were taken to was sparsely furnished. There was only one bed between the three of them, but it was unlikely any of them would sleep that night. A table, on which rested a bowl, a cup and a clay pot full of water was the only other solid furniture. There was only a bucket in the corner to use as a toilet. They were not to be left alone. Immediately outside the cell, two guards settled around a small table for the night and started a game of cards.

Thankfully, Jane had calmed down somewhat, but whether this was because she had accepted her fate or mentally let go was anyone’s guess. The door to the cell opened and a grizzled old man shuffled in, fixing them each with a piercing gaze. “Name’s Diggley” he said, “You needs anything, you wants anything, youse let me know and I’ll do what I can. No men though, can’t do that, can’t have you pleading your bellies to save your necks.” He looked at them critically again “Nice necks too. Shame.”

He sighed. “Right. This is how it is. I wants no trouble from any of youse. When the time comes, behave and go out like good Christians. It’s going to happen no matter, so you can save us all the kicking and screaming. Won’t do no good. If you needs your souls savin’ Father John will be in to be havin’ a chat around dawn. He’ll be with ya till the end in case you wants to get anything off your chests.” He looked at them all critically again “Nice chests too. Shame”.

“When. When do they…” Jane whispered. The other two women looked at her in surprise. They hadn’t expected her to be lucid. “Noon tomorrow” he replied “It was going to be ten o’clock, but they’re expecting around ten thousand and they need more time to pack ‘em in.” “What time is it now sir?” said Kate. “It’s just short of five in the afternoon. I’m sorry for your troubles.” He bowed and let himself out.

“Nineteen hours. Just nineteen hours.” Jane counted them on her fingers and giggled. “I don’t have enough fingers. I have to use them twice. Nineteen hours.” She looked up balefully as she was struck by a sudden thought and let out another little laugh. “It’s the 29^th of July tomorrow. I’ll be nineteen in seven hours. It’s my birthday tomorrow. I’ll be nineteen for a whole twelve hours before…before…” She fell silent for a moment before turning to Sarah, her eyes wide and pleading… “Sarah? Do they really mean to hang me?”.

They had little idea of time. No one was in a mood to talk as each sunk deeper into despair and hopelessness. The sounds of sawing and hammering drifted into the cell from outside and Jane in particular seemed to flinch at the sound of each nail being driven home. After what seemed an eternity, the noises stopped. They sensed evening approaching as the air in the cell grew cooler, and the already gloomy light began to fade. There was a rumble of thunder in the distance as the humid summer air was broken by rain.

Ketch

The key turned in the lock, and once again Diggley appeared. Holding three lanterns to illuminate the gloomy cell, he was accompanied by two guards and an overweight, vulgar looking man dressed in an ill-fitting dark suit and scruffy top hat. “Ladies, I have the displeasure of introducing Mr Ketch. I suggest you be nice to him, as it’ll be better for ya if he does his job right tomorrow. I dare say, barring miracles, he may be the last face you see before your short drop and sharp shock.”

As the penny dropped, the women studied him in horror. His eyes glistened as he beckoned them forward with his large calloused hands, roughly grabbing them and positioning them in a line, about five feet apart. It suddenly dawned on Sarah that he was placing them as he would on the gallows, with Jane first, Kate in the middle and herself last. Placing his meaty hand on his chin, he gave them the once over before saying in a gravely voice “Girls, put your hair up will ya, I need to take a proper butcher’s at your necks.” There was nothing for it. Sarah gathered her long brown, curly tresses and held them up over her head. She flinched as Ketch unexpectedly placed his rough hand on her bare shoulder, caressing the side of her neck with his fat finger.

Kate was next, and he roughly turned her head from one side to the other until he was satisfied. But as he turned toward Jane, Kate suddenly snarled “Touch her you oaf and I’ll kick you where it hurts!”. She then turned to Jane, motioned Ketch to walk over, and carefully moved the hair away from the nape of Jane’s neck, who was trembling in terror. Ketch, having done what he had to do, motioned toward the door.

A slight man, barely out of his teens, shambled submissively into the room. “Yes sir, what’s the plan sir” he warbled obsequiously. “Right” said Ketch, “We got three of ‘em to do. Short drop with no assistance unless they’re paying. We’ve got a big crowd who’ll be expecting their money’s worth tomorrow.”

Realising the women were still lined up behind him, Ketch half-turned, chortling “Begging you pardon girls, just discussing business, you can get on now – I won’t be needing ya till the morrow!” It wasn’t as if they could go far, and given Ketch’s booming voice, they were not spared the grisly details of his gruesome craft.

“Listen up Bridges and listen good. No sense doing all three at once. I’m being paid to string this out a bit. They’re to be made an h’example of apparently. So we’ll take ‘em out together, get ‘em properly trussed and noosed, and then we’ll drop ‘em one by one in the same order I stuck ‘em in. Did you get that?”

“Yes sir, I did sir, in the same order sir, like you said” replied Bridges. “Right” continued Ketch, that’s the blond babykiller first – she’s a dainty, nervy little thing, so best do her quick and keep the drop short else we’ll ‘ave ‘er ‘ead off by accident. Won’t do to scare the gentlefolk like that.” The description of her own execution was too much for Jane, already in a fragile state, and the insinuation that she could be decapitated was the last straw. It was all Kate could do to catch her as she fainted.

Oblivious. Ketch continued haranguing his assistant. “Once she’s taken the drop, we’ll do the feisty one with the red hair – the thief – watch her though, she’ll be trouble. We’ll finish off with brownie there, the murderess. It’ll be rough on her hearing the other two go before her, but there’s nothing for it. We ‘ave our brief and we ‘aves to stick to it.

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out without a backwards glance unaware of the daggers Kate was staring into his receding back. Diggley sighed and looked at them sympathetically. “Apologies ladies, he didn’t have to do that, but he was told to put the fear of God into you. There are some who want to see you lose your dignity as well as your lives tomorrow. You’ll see that she’s all right won’t you. She’ll want to be awake for her visitors. That’ll cheer her up, we’ve been told to expect one or two later tonight.”

As he turned to leave, Kate stopped him. “Diggley, you’ve been kind. Pray, what time is it? How much do we have left?” Diggley examined his shoes. “It’s eight o’clock miss. Supper will be here soon.” Eyes still firmly on the straw laden floor, he slipped out and the door clanked closed behind him.

As good as his word, supper arrived shortly afterwards, brought by Diggley himself. It was nothing but stale bread and a thin gruel, but despite their desperate circumstances, none of them had eaten since breakfast and they attached the meal with guarded enthusiasm. Jane was awake, but weak, and Kate made it her business to get a few spoonfuls of the tasteless soup into her.

Sarah had been playing Ketch’s words over and over in her head, and with nothing else to think about, she began to develop a morbid interest in the means of her demise. With no one of knowledge other than Diggley, she started to bombard him with questions.

The subject made him very uncomfortable, and as he was in no mood to answer, he pleaded ignorance. Sarah persisted “You promised. You said we should come to you with anything we wanted when we arrived here, all I want is to know – is that too much to ask?” She leaned forward slightly at the request, allowing her charms to work on the old man. Diggley hesitated for a moment. “Bridges. He may talk to you. I think he’s still here. He’s an inoffensive fellow. I’ll see if he can come later. That oaf Ketch is down the tavern in any case. I’ll have to leave a guard with you though.” He disappeared in search of the assistant.

Forgiveness

Sarah was unsure how much time had passed since the last interruption. Once again the door opened, and she half expected to see Diggley with Bridges, but it was a different but familiar face this time. The Shire Reeve, who had arrested her the night before, his face carrying a care worn look, motioned for her to come forward. He looked her straight in the eye, doing his best not to show the depth of his feelings. “I should have let you go when I had the chance. I knew things would not go well for you, but I had no idea…”

She put a finger to her lips to shush him. “It’s not your fault. You did what you had to. We both relied on justice being blind, though I suppose I was naïve enough to believe that it truly was, when you knew well enough where this would lead when you arrested me. If it’s forgiveness you are seeking, rest assured I do not intend to die before clearing my conscience. To that end, I forgive you sir for what you had to do, and what you must help do tomorrow. What is within my power I give you, though I regret it may not be enough for you.”

The Shire Reeve looked away partly in embarrassment, partly in pain. “There was another reason I came” he said quietly, “There is someone else here to see you.” Sarah was about to ask who would see her at such a time, perhaps expecting the Tavernier to make an appearance as she had no one else in Braley, but her question was aborted as Jane let out a squeal of joy as one of the guards informed her that her family were waiting to see her. “He’s come” she shouted “It’s alright, he’s come. He’s come to save me!”. Kate looked expectantly toward the cell door, but any hopes of last minute visitors were dashed as Diggley reluctantly told her no one was coming for her.

With the distractions out of the way, Sarah turned back toward the Shire Reeve. He was gone. As the face of another man emerged from the flickering half-light, recognition slowly dawned and she recoiled violently in disgust. It was William Miller. Before she could stop herself, she spat at him, following it quickly with a resounding slap. He flinched, mumbling “I probably deserve that.”

She was overtaken by a strange calming, but cold fury. “If you have come for forgiveness William, you are too late, I gave what I had to the Shire Reeve before you. I hope you never sleep again thinking of where your words have sent me. I hope the sight of my cold dangling corpse gives you nightmares. I hope you are man enough to watch me die, as you were certainly too much of a coward to look at me as you condemned me to the gallows this morning. Now, say your peace and let me be. I do not want my last thoughts on this earth to be occupied by a wretch such as you”.

“Sarah, please, hear me out. It is true, I held much bitterness in my heart when you left, but in time I grew to accept it, even understand it. My appearance today was not my doing. I did not know that my words would be manipulated in such a way as to bring you this end. It was not my choice to condemn you, but a choice it was that I had to make. Mathew Smyth has a strong hold on our family. We owe him money. Had he called in our debts it would have destroyed us. I had to think of my sister who would have been left without a dowry, without which there would have been little hope of marrying her into a family with position.”

“Sarah, I deserve your fury, I deserve your scorn, but I swear upon all that I hold dear that I knew nothing of the import my words would have. When I realised, it was too late, I would have had to perjure myself, and though I may be many things I am not a knowing liar. You are right, I am a coward, I could not look upon you as I said those damning words, but I will be there tomorrow unless you insist otherwise, and I will continue to pray for the commutation to transportation that we are all dearly hoping for. Be brave Sarah. Please be brave. Forgive me. I loved you once. I knew you once. That has to mean something.”

Sarah struggled with his words, struggled to get beyond her hate and pride, and as she looked at her former fiancée with unreserved contempt, she knew it was a struggle she would lose. “William. You must have spent a long time thinking of those words – you say them so earnestly. But know this. You have traded my life for position. It is clear to me that in your world, bankruptcy is equal in its brutality and finality as my death. Nothing you can say will change that. Do what you wish tomorrow, it is not my concern. I understand that your face will be one of amongst ten thousand others tomorrow. I cannot forgive you William. Go to your grave with those words ringing in your ears. I cannot forgive you. Now please, leave me in peace and let me die with the little dignity I have left.” With that, Sarah turned her face away. William stared at her for what seemed an age, before finally succumbing to the inevitable. She would not speak to him again, and so he left.

The Night Grows Long

She looked over at Kate, who had witnessed the whole spectacle. “Well at least you had him to have a go at! Who’ve I got?! said Kate, her voice breaking. Without warning, she started to weep. She had tried her hardest to be a rock for Jane, but as the poor girl was not in the cell, she finally gave vent to her pent up feelings. “Oh Sarah, I don’t think I can do this. I’m trying to be good for Jane, but I feel like her sometimes. I should have hung myself with the scarf and had done with it. It’s all this waiting around that’s so hard. They should have let that mob string us up when they brought us here. Now we’ll have ten times that number jeering at us while they do it proper-like, all so’s the gentlefolk can feel good about themselves. Hearing old Ketch talk about us like that was horrible. I’ve heard it can take ages to die. I’ve never seen one done, but I’ve heard about it plenty.”

Sarah put her arm around Kate’s shoulders. “What’s done is done Kate. I know that won’t make things better, but we have to accept it and prepare for it. If there is no miracle tomorrow, we have to be ready. I don’t want us dragged out there, soiled, dirty and a shambles to be hung for others to gawp at. I want them to say how brave we were, how we looked after each other. Jane won’t make it without us. We’ll stand at the pearly gates together the three of us when the time comes. Now, I’ll see what Diggley can do about getting some things to tidy ourselves up. They’re coming tomorrow to see three pretty maidens hang, now that’s a compliment if I ever heard one. Ten thousand of them want to see us off, and by gosh, let’s not disappoint them.”

Kate pulled herself together, and they briefly hugged. Then turning to Sarah, with a quizzical look said “Does it hurt much? Only I’m not much for pain”. Sarah laughed. “I was thinking that a while back, so I sent Diggley to look for that fellow Bridges, so’s I can ask him about allsorts. Funny how you can so curious about something so repulsive isn’t it?. But not around Jane mind, she’s got enough to deal with.”

They sat in silence for a while, until the turn of the key in the lock signalled the return of Jane Daniels. The guard led her in, collected the supper implements and left. Jane looked at the women expectantly. “So did you see anyone?” Not waiting for a response, she went on “I saw father, mother, my sisters and auntie and they looked ever so happy to see me. Father said they were praying all the time and that surely God will hear them. I’m sure that when God hears about the nasty things they want to do to us, he’ll stop it. Father said that if they send me to Australia, then they’ll come too, so it won’t be so bad. They’ve sent a petition for clemency to the court. Mother said they don’t hang good people, only bad ones. I’m a good girl. They tried to say that Kate was bad, but I wouldn’t have it. I told them you’d been nice to me. I told them we we’re all good girls really. I think they know. I think keeping us here is the way they punish people like us. They make us think they’re going to, well, you know… and then they let us go because we’ve learned our lesson. Yes that’s it. That’s what is going to happen. I shall be very brave – but I’ll have to act surprised when they let us go, otherwise they may know that I know. Yes, that’s the key. We have to act surprised or they’ll think we haven’t learned our lesson.” She walked over to Sarah, put her hands on Sarah’s shoulders, and said in a faux deep voice “Be brave Sarah”. Sarah could only look on in bewilderment and pity as she did the same with Kate “Be brave Kate”.

Then flicking back her hair, she sat down on the makeshift bed, looked up at them and said “Do you think it’s my birthday yet? I’m nineteen at midnight. Tomorrow’s the 29^th of July. I’ll be nineteen for a whole twelve hours before…before…” She fell silent for a moment before turning to Sarah, her eyes wide and pleading… “Sarah? Do they really mean to hang me?”.

Kate and Sarah looked at each other, realising that Jane’s mind had gone. In a way it was merciful. The poor girl had retreated into a fantasy world, and would not be fully cognizant of her fate. Their layman’s diagnosis was confirmed as she promptly lay down on the bed and within seconds, was asleep.

... to be continued.

(c) 2006 - Son of Ketch - Do not reproduce without permission (sonofketch@yahoo.co.uk)