A crowd of ministers and nobles sat their horses in the cleared space in front of the platform and Ki was glad to see Lord Hylus among them. No doubt Nikides was breathing a sigh of relief, too, though the old man looked to have aged ten years since the night before.
The crowd fell silent at the king’s approach. The only sounds were the drums and the sound of hooves on the cobblestones.
Korin and the Companions lined on the king’s right, as ordered. Taking his place just behind Tobin, Ki steadied Dragon and rested his hand on his sword hilt.
Niryn dismounted and followed the herald onto the platform. The drummers ceased their playing and for a moment Ki could hear the sea. The Harrier wizards bowed low to the king, then formed up in a semicircle behind their master.
“Witness, all you who have gathered here, the sacred justice of the king!” cried the herald. “By order of King Erius, Heir of Ghërilain, Holder of the Sword, and Protector of Skala, these enemies of Skala will be put to death before this gathering and the Four. Know that they are traitors against the throne and all lawful people.”
Some cheered this proclamation, but most only murmured among themselves in low voices. In the distance someone shouted angrily, but he was quickly drowned out by other voices.
The herald unrolled a scroll heavy with seals and read out the names of the condemned and the charges against them. The fourth was the young priest who’d thrown the cabbage. His name was Thelanor and he was charged with treason, sedition, and assault against the person of the Prince Royal. He’d already been branded across the mouth with the traitor’s T, the mark of a heretic priest. Guards on the far side of the platform hoisted the bound prisoners into the waiting arms of the hangmen.
The condemned wore long sleeveless tunics of coarse, unbleached muslin. There were a few women among them, but most were men and boys. Most bore the traitor’s brand on their foreheads and all were gagged. Only two others, an old man and woman with grey hair and thin, wrinkled faces, were branded on the mouth like Thelanor. They held their heads high as the guards pushed them to the ladders.
Ki had gone with his family to see thieves and brigands hanged in Colath. The crowds had roared for blood and pelted them with whatever came to hand. Ki and his brothers and sisters had thought it great fun, scavenging stones and rotten apples to throw. His father had given them a copper groat for each hit to spend later at the sweet seller’s booth.
Ki looked around with growing unease. Only a few people threw things and he didn’t see many children at all, except for those standing under the gibbet. One of the boys looked so much like his brother Amin that Ki almost called out to him in alarm before he heard the stranger’s name read.
The drummers beat out a quick tattoo. Soldiers braced the ladders against the gibbet beam and, one by one, the prisoners were forced up to the halters. A cheer went up from the other Companions as the first man was pushed off to jerk at the rope’s end.
Korin brandished his sword, shouting “Death to Skala’s enemies! Long live the king!”
The others were quick to do the same and none quicker than eager Orneus. Ki was sure he saw the boy look to see if Korin was watching him and despised him for it.
Tobin had drawn his sword with the rest, but didn’t wave it about or cheer. Ki couldn’t muster much enthusiasm, either.
The second man struggled and cried and had to be pried free of the ladder. This panicked some of the other prisoners and for a moment it looked as if the soldiers might have to force them all.
The crowd was warming up now, and a flurry of rotten vegetables rained down on the condemned and their guards.
A woman was the next hanged, and then it was young Thelanor’s turn. He tried to shout something through his gag, but no one could have heard him over the noise anyway. In the end he went to his death like a man, leaping off the ladder before the guards could push him.
A few of the remaining prisoners had to be forced up, but most of them must have been braver, or shamed by the priest’s example. One man made the warriors’ salute as best he could with his bound hands and flung himself off. The jeering of the crowd failed for an instant, then redoubled as the next man clung to the rungs, struggling and pissing himself as the guards beat him about the head. The young boys and women went more quietly.
The old priests’ turns came last. They didn’t hesitate, except to raise their bound hands to their hearts and brows before they climbed the ladders. This impressed even the lowest sort in the crowd and no one threw anything at them. Both tumbled off the ladders without struggle or protest.
The crowd was almost silent now. Ki thought he heard weeping. The old people had died quickly, their frail necks snapping like dry sticks. But the women and children were light and the warriors had necks like bulls; most struggled hard and long before Bilairy claimed them. Ki had to force himself to watch, not wanting to shame Tobin by turning away. Usually hangmen gave the strugglers a good yank on the legs to put them out of their misery, but no one helped them tonight.
When it was finally over the drumming resumed with a sharper, faster rhythm. A large, high-sided cart rumbled into the square, pulled by a pair of black oxen and surrounded by ranks of grey-backs with shields and upright swords. Six Harrier wizards stood in the back of the cart, facing inward with their arms linked.
No one dared throw anything at them, but an ugly muttering swelled to screams of anger and outrage. Ki shivered, feeling the sudden fury like a wave of nausea. But whether it was the Harrier wizards or their unseen prisoners who were jeered, he could not tell.
Tobin had never seen an execution before and it had taken all his willpower tonight not to kick Gosi into a gallop and flee. What little dinner he’d managed roiled and burned at the base of his throat and he swallowed convulsively, praying Korin and Porion would not see his weakness. None of the others seemed to be bothered by the spectacle; Korin was acting like this was the finest entertainment he’d ever seen, and shared whispered bets with some of the others on which of the hanged prisoners would last the longest.
As the cart reached the platform a sudden, irrational fear overwhelmed Tobin. What if it was Arkoniel they pulled out, or Iya? Gripping the reins so tight his fingers ached, he watched as two naked prisoners were dragged from the cart.
It’s not them! he thought, dizzy with relief. Both were men and neither was hairy like Arkoniel. There was no reason to think that it would have been him, he realized, but for an instant the possibility had seemed all too real.
Both men had elaborate patterns painted in red on their chests, and iron masks strapped over their faces. These were featureless except for slanting slits where the eyes and nose would be and gave the prisoners an evil, inhuman appearance. Metal shackles bound their wrists.
The guards forced them to their knees and Niryn stepped behind them, raising his hands above their heads. He’d always struck Tobin as rather bookish, but now he seemed to swell and grow taller, looming over the condemned.
“Behold the enemies of Skala!” he cried in a voice that carried to the farthest corners of the square. He waited until the renewed roar died away, then went on, “Behold these so-called wizards, who would overthrow the rightful ruler of Skala. Witches! Blighters of crops and flocks, preachers of sedition, these storm bringers call down lightning and fire on the innocent people of their villages. They defile the sacred name of Illior with perverse magics and threaten the very safety of our land!”
Tobin shuddered; these were charges of the most serious nature. Yet as he looked at the condemned wizards, it struck him how helpless and ordinary they looked. It was hard to imagine them hurting anyone.