Chapter 14
The parade ground where the hanging was to take place was a void, stripped of life and color. A slab of packed earth with the long, uneven shadow of the wall running across it. By the time the sky began to lighten from coal-black to sickly blue, the place was already full of men, squads standing in stiff lines, officers with shoulders at angles, and an executioner in a brown cloak standing by the scaffold.
The gallows were ancient. Its posts were weathered and stained by rain and had the dark presence of hangings past, with a rope that swung in the weak breeze like a snake lulled to sleep. The trapdoor had been tested three times before dawn. Each time, the sound was a hollow, final thunk that reverberated through the air.
Theron stood in the second row, shoulder to shoulder with Rook and Sval, with the rest of their squad close by. Brune, Dannil, and Joren were among them, recruits who had fallen in easily with Rook, Theron, Sval, and Hrengar. Theron’s hands were numb inside his gloves. Nobody spoke. Hrengar fidgeted, his face slack with fear. Even the braggarts and loudmouths from the other squads stayed silent, staring at the ground or their boots, anywhere except the scaffold.
The condemned man was brought out in shackles, wrists lashed so tightly the skin bulged around the iron. Carpen. He looked smaller now, shriveled by long nights without sleep and the certainty of what waited for him. His face was swollen, his lip split, and an eye turned dark purple. Sweat matted his hair.
Theron ground his teeth together. It appeared Houlis and maybe some friends had spent some time with Carpen, showing their unappreciation of what he had tried to do.
He could barely walk. They half-carried and half-dragged him to the foot of the scaffold, then thrust him roughly up the steps. The executioner took his arm in a grip that was almost gentle, almost polite, and led him under the noose.
Houlis stood with a pale but composed face, a thick bandage hidden beneath his coat. He read the sentence in a voice as flat as a shovel. “For attempted murder of an officer in the service of the Luminarch Dominion, you are sentenced to death. May the gods receive your soul, if you have one.”
Carpen raised his head. His eyes scanned the crowd, wild and unfocused, before settling on Theron. For a moment he seemed about to say something. But then his jaw quivered, and he began to cry towards Houlis. “Please,” he said, his voice torn to shreds. “Please. I’m sorry. Please.”
No one moved. Theron’s heart shattered, and he looked away. Behind him, a man cleared his throat, the sound grotesquely loud in the hush. The wind caught the edge of the rope, twisting it so that the noose brushed Carpen’s cheek.
“I’ll do anything,” Carpen pleaded. “Don’t do this. I was wrong. I was… Please.”
The executioner didn’t respond. He slipped the loop over Carpen’s head, tightened it until the condemned man’s breath came out in frantic, whimpering huffs. Then he stepped back.
Carpen kept talking, a river of words now, desperate and directionless. “I never wanted… It was a mistake… Forgive me, gods, please…”
Theron looked at his feet. He remembered the sound Carpen had made when the knife left his hand, the slackness in his body, the taste of fear that hung over him in his cell. There had been times in Theron’s past where this sort of thing was so common it became the norm. Here, though, it was personal. Despite only knowing Carpen for a few months, this one hurt.
Houlis gave a nod.
The executioner pulled the lever.
The trapdoor swung open with a sound like the world breaking in half. Carpen dropped through, legs kicking, mouth open in a last, silent shriek. The rope held firm. A few moments of violent twitching passed before the body sagged. Wind tugged at his pant leg and made the fabric flap, a pitiful suggestion that the man inside was still trying to run.
A shudder went through the crowd. Some looked up, but most looked away. Rook squeezed his eyes shut and muttered a prayer under his breath.
Houlis called, “Dismissed,” and the squads broke apart, boots scuffing the earth, eyes down.
Theron remained after the others had gone, staring at the beam where the rope still swayed and the body twitched. The sun had just cleared the wall, casting a pale, sickly line across the ground. The surrounding silence was heavy and unbroken as he watched Carpen’s body sway slowly in the wind.