‘You know she nailed placards on the doors of churches in the eight towns criticizing the Pope’s burning of heretics as being contrary to the merciful teachings of the Hanged Redeemer. How could you do such a thing and expect to live?’
‘And do the stars still shine?’
‘You’re being ridiculous. You know very well she must not live but die.’
And indeed he did know. It was surprising she had not caught fire spontaneously so great were the number of her inflammatory crimes. ‘Let me list them for you,’ said Bosco. ‘Written words on a church door. Death. She criticized the Pope. Death. She showed consideration for the lives of heretics. Death. And she offered an opinion about the human quality of the Hanged Redeemer. Death. And had been a woman while she did so. Whipping. And all of this while dressed as a man so that she could manage to reach the door during the night. Death.’ He gestured to the warrant. ‘Sign if you please. Sign if you don’t please. But sign.’
‘Why does it need my signature?’
‘Because the Pope is merciful he may not sign death warrants. They must be signed by the commander of the military wing of the Redeemers in Chartres. And that, as of this morning, is you.’
‘As I’m the commander I’ve decided to think about it.’
‘Oddly enough, it’s not quite that simple. When you leave here, which should be by this afternoon, the next most senior military cleric in the city, which is to say me, becomes commander of the garrison. And I will sign.’
‘Then there’s no problem.’
‘Yes there is. Signing this warrant is a great honour, as is attending the execution of that warrant. If you don’t sign it will mean that your first act as a direct appointee of the Pontiff is to insult the One True Faith. Egregiously. You will be removed from office and then you’ll be good for neither man nor beast. She’s dead whatever you do. Sign.’
Cale looked at him, sullen and deflated.
‘Van Owen,’ he said, at last, ‘Van Owen is the next most senior military cleric in the city.’
‘Not,’ said Bosco, quietly, ‘when you sign the second warrant.’
As you will know if you’ve ever attended two of them, one execution is very much like another: the crowd, the wait, the arrival, the shouts, the screaming, the long or short death, the blood or ashes on the ground.
It was a feature of the Redeemers’ dealings with one another that they were as obsequious and fawning as they were disdainful and arbitrary towards anyone who was not. Outside of the occasional reign of terror concerning Antagonist conspiracy or fiddling with boys, Redeemers were indulgent when it came to each other’s sins. Even when it came to the grave matter of boys it was something that had to be witnessed mid-fiddle by an ordained Redeemer if the charge were to stick. As the consequences of bringing a false accusation – which is to say a true accusation that failed – the results for the accuser were hideous. The Redeemers were able to congratulate themselves that such filthiness was rare by ensuring that only the most desperate victims made a fuss. Most of these victims soon came to regret it.
Usually very cautious about punishing one of their own, the decision to blame Van Owen for the defeat in front of the Golan was unprecedented. Van Owen, therefore, was to be charged with treachery not incompetence. It was, after all, improbable that a general who had always fought well in the past should suddenly lead his men so badly. It was obvious therefore that this was an example of something that was often used to explain great Redeemer defeats: ‘The stab in the back.’ The Battle of Eight Martyrs had been a stab in the back because it was as plain as the nose on your face that Van Owen was a secret Antagonist traitor and had conspired to create a defeat out of certain victory.
Van Owen was tried in his absence to ensure he did not use the occasion to spread any filthy Antagonist lies and this was what brought him to the Square of Emancipation mid-afternoon only three days after he had been condemned. However, even the Redeemer Bishop of Verona, head of the Sodality of the Black Cordelias who had suffered such terrible losses, had not objected when Van Owen’s sentence was passed along with the not inconsiderable privilege of being hanged before he was burned. While personally he would have liked to disembowel Van Owen with a blunt shovel for causing the near annihilation of the Black Cordelias, even he was unwilling to break that precedent. One never knew after all.
The Notable Redeemers, led by a sulky looking Cale, sat on a platform overlooking the Square of Emancipation and two scaffolds. The Pope was not there and neither was Vague Henri. There was a good crowd, though, waiting with a seething good humour for someone to take the blame.
When he appeared between four guards there was a ripple of excitement from the crowd, some wild applause, a few indecent gibes and a fierce joy which, as the historian Solerine said later, ‘made them resemble rather wild beasts than men’. Despite the many guards, the crowd pushed further towards the scaffold so they could get a better look. As was the custom the Dominican Overseer Novella ordered Van Owen to be stripped of his robe. Although he remained wearing a woollen tunic there was loudly muttered disapproval from the back of the Redeemer platform.
‘Is this really necessary?’
But it was too late to intervene and Van Owen had removed his robe as obediently as if he were a child about to be punished. Knowing this was coming he had intended to say something pious at this point about how much he had dearly loved to wear that holy gown but fear had dried his mouth and the words stuck. Then an increasingly white-faced Overseer Novella led him over to the ladder. Van Owen asked for water and so distracted was the Overseer by the horror of performing something which, when it was an idea in a courtroom, he had most enthusiastically set out to accomplish, that he forgot himself enough to give him his own hip-flask. Van Owen wanted to wet his throat so he could speak but the executioner, more used to the reality of these occasions than Novella, realized what Van Owen was up to and had no intention of permitting any heroism to spoil the punishment.
‘Abandon the idea of gabbing about your lack of guilt. Follow the example of our Holy Redeemer on the gallows and keep your mouth shut.’ Then he was roughly pushed up the ladder. Halfway up, the executioner, cheered on by the ogling crowd, started playing the buffoon by giving a bow and nearly slipped and fell off. This disgraceful behaviour acted like salts under the nose of Novella and he furiously shouted at the executioner. This rattled him so much that by the time they had reached the top of the ladder all his swagger had been replaced by alarm. Van Owen began to say his last words.
‘Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit and hope that I will today light such a candle as will never be pu—’
This carefully rehearsed farewell was interrupted by such a premature and hefty shove that he not only fell in the halter around his neck and had it instantly broken but was pushed so ineptly and so hard that he also began swinging back and forth like the pendulum on a clock. Rather than using his good sense to climb on the firewood and steady the already dead man, the Redeemer charged with setting the fire anxiously fired it with a torch at once. The wood was seasoned and soaked in oil and went up magnificently. Unfortunately as the corpse swung back and forth through the fire, like a child on a swing, as if by devilment a strong wind rose up and blew the flames away from it. The crowd gasped in fear at this. ‘A miracle! A miracle!’ But in a minute the wind dropped and the swinging slowed and soon the crowd pressed forward again to get a better look.
After a few minutes with the crowd gawping on in horror and fascination the fire completely burnt away the rope binding Van Owen’s arms. So intense was the heat that it caused his right hand to move slowly upwards and as it did so it seemed to point accusingly at the crowd. Later it was put about by the Office for the Propagation of the Faith that this was not the sign of a curse by Van Owen on the faithful for having wished the death of an innocent man but his bestowal of a blessing as a sign of repentance.