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I haven’t told anyone about Sir Victor speaking to me or his claims to know my true lineage. I feel a little guilty for not telling Jordy, but I believed the man to be mad. And maybe he is. He may not be the one awaiting the hangman’s noose.
A large crowd has already gathered when we reach the gallows. Two of the knights of the king’s guard are standing on the gallows with the condemned man between them. I recognize him immediately—the blond hair, tall stature, and perfect physique. I have no doubts it is Sir Victor. I glance at Jordy’s clenched jaw and serious expression. He seems to recognize our knight too. My stomach knots and my chest aches. If Sir Victor’s claims of my lineage hold even a shred of truth, could my life be forfeit too?
A few guards are standing on the gallows behind the accused, and a priest is holding a scroll, waiting for the crowd to finish gathering. The executioner is standing behind Victor, wearing all black and a full black hood that hides his face and hair. Gram once told me that the executioner wore the black hood so he could remain unrecognized by the villagers, be free to shop in the market square and live a normal life after his ordered killings were through. Even as a child her explanation baffled me. How could anyone live a normal life after taking another? Did the black hood hide the demons that would torment his soul or possess his dreams? Would the ghost of the condemned not know him in the afterlife, unable to recognize who to haunt in this one? Funny that a black hood holds all that sway.
“Good people of Timberness,” the priest begins, “I stand here before you with the accused, Sir Victor of House Winston, knight of the king’s guard, and citizen of Timberness. He has been spinning tales regarding King Urich, speaking lies that hold no merit and are treasonous in nature. He shows no remorse for his transgressions and was brought before the king himself for a swift and fair judgment. It has been decided and decreed by the king’s own hand that Sir Victor has committed high treason and is a traitor to the crown. The penalty for these charges is death. May God have mercy on his soul.”
I am frozen in fear, paralyzed by the notion that Sir Victor could call me out. He said he had knowledge of me that could change Timberness as we know it. I lean next to Jordy, attempting to hide my face against his arm. Jordy puts his arm around me in response. The gods forbid Victor sees me. I wish to be invisible.
“Such a shame,” a maiden standing next to us says to her friend. “That knight is as handsome as Adonis himself. Quite the waste of good male flesh to hang him.”
“Yes,” her friend replies. “Maybe they should simply lock him away in a tower, and I with him.”
They giggle and Mistress Orwan scolds them, “Show some respect, you insolent tripes.”
“Do you have any final words?” the priest asks Sir Victor.
“Aye,” Victor calls out. “Aye, I do.” Sir Victor looks around at the crowd, his face stoic and proud, like that of a nobleman instead of a condemned man. I straighten my posture and lean forward, suddenly curious to hear his words. If he is nothing else, he is brave. And bravery at least deserves an ear.
“Good people of Timberness,” Sir Victor shouts, “I will die this day an innocent man. No falsehoods against the king have ever passed my lips. Truth cannot be a falsehood. I do not deny saying that the king is evil. I do not deny saying that he has been deceiving you all for years. Saying these things are not an act of treason because they are the truth. He does not deserve the throne, but I know who does. I know the—”
A guard claps a hand over Victor’s mouth, then shoves what would have been his blindfold inside it. They tussle with him and then stand him erect again. The priest starts saying his last rites, and the executioner puts a bag over Victor’s head and the noose around his neck.
“Sir Victor,” the priest says, “you will be hanged by the neck—”
The sound of arrows pierces the sky, flying from every direction. One hits the executioner dead between the eyes, followed by arrows that find the hearts of the guards on either side of Sir Victor. The crowd starts to disperse, women’s screams and men’s shouting filling my ears. Jordy and I cower with his mother and father, unable to safely move amid the chaos. Jordy and his father shield us with their backs and outstretched arms. Men on horseback wearing black hoods of their own ride toward Sir Victor, yelling phases likeRevolt against King Urich, andRestore the rightful heir! They best the remaining guards with little effort, and one rider takes Sir Victor by the arms and pulls him onto his horse. Victor grasps his arm as if he’s injured, but it does little to slow his motions. When his binds are broken, Sir Victor tugs the bag from his head and yanks the gag from his mouth.
“We will release the kingdom from tyranny!” he yells. “I swear it with my life!” He and his rescuers ride away in different directions.
Jordy helps me to my feet when the dust settles. Villagers are milling about, stunned and mostly speechless over the events that have played out before us. The patrol and constable set out on horseback, no doubt on the heels of the hooded riders who managed to rescue Sir Victor. Several men run to help the downed guards and executioner, knowing full well that they are now with the angels.
“Are you all right?” Jordy asks, aiding me as I shake out my skirts.
“I am well, Jordy. Thank you. No need to fuss over me. Assist your parents. Your mother looks troubled.”
Jordy turns to his mother and father and offers comfort. Mistress Orwan is talking without stopping for a breath, chattering away like a bird in a tree. Jordy and his father do their best to calm her, and finally take her by the arms, one on each side, as they lead her back to the bakery. I follow behind them, Jordy looking back at me every few seconds. His smile is weak but true.
As frightened as I was seeing Sir Victor on the gallows, fearing he would point me out as some strange piece in his treasonous puzzle, I was never happier to see his rescuers. Part of me knows that deep down, I was more afraid of him dying and never revealing his truth to me—the truth that offers me a real name, a family line, a history bigger than the one I’m forced to exist in now. Those hooded riders saved his life and with it, gave me hope.
Funny how those black hoods hold all that sway…
CHAPTER 12
It takes some time to settle Mistress Orwan, but we manage. Jordy and his father close the bakery for the remainder of the day, much like the other shop keeps in the market square. With traitors roaming free on horseback spewing talk of revolt and treachery, and a rogue knight free of the hangman’s noose, folks are taking to their homes. And it is never easy to stomach the sight of bodies being removed from the gallows, especially when those bodies are of the executioner and the king’s guards. Word has already gotten around that the owner of the local tavern is the executioner. I can’t say that I frequent the tavern, but I do sell matches to the owner on occasion. His name is Cletus, and he has a dog. Loves that dog better than his own soul. Funny, I never pictured an executioner as loving a dog. I shake off the thought. This day has been wild and different, but even the wagging tongues find it safer to talk around their own kitchen tables than on the bloodied streets of Timberness.
Soon, Sir Malek and the remaining members of the king’s guard will be filling the streets to investigate how horribly the hanging went wrong. No one wants to be questioned by Sir Malek, myself included. The sooner I am back home with Gram, the better.
Jordy is closing the bakery for his folks, storing the remaining breads to sell on the morrow and locking the stock room and front doors. We walk out back when the tasks are through and the bakery is secured.
“Milla,” he says, “please allow me to walk you home. I feel a bit of unease with rogues on the loose. I need to know you’re safe and sound.”
“Aye, yes. That would be nice, Jordy. Thank you.” We start to walk, but I touch Jordy’s arm and stop him. “Jordy, wait. I need to tell you something, and it can’t wait another moment. Do you mind if we sit? This won’t take long.”
He looks confused but agrees. “All right.”
Jordy looks around the empty lot behind the bakery and finds two crates for us to sit on. When we are seated, he takes my hands in his. “All right, Milla. I’m listening, my lady.”
I take a breath and relax my shoulders. “Jordy, you did recognize that the rogue knight on the gallows was the same knight we saw in the forest, right?”
