Absolution

Beneath the masked hood, his breath came slow and strained, though he remained deathly still. Holes were cut to reveal only his eyes, and he watched as the servants cleaned the remains off the chopping block.

“Heretic!” called the bellman, and he listened as his words echoed in the silent hall. His eyes flicked to the people who watched from the audience, their pragmatic quiet enveloping him. “Heresy. A just punishment, a just death,” he thought, stepping forward as the guards forced the gaunt man’s head to the cold wood block.

“Witness now the punishment!” the bellman called, as the executioner readied his axe. It felt heavy in his hands, and his shoulders tensed as he raised the soon-to-be-warm steel high above his head. The edge came down sharp, and the head quickly separated from the body. A servant rushed over with a rag to clean the bloodied steel. He stepped back to wait for the next in line, the audience roaring with cheers and applause.

Soon the bellman’s voice rang out again. “Thief!” he called. “A man who robbed another. A just sentence,” he thought. The axe came crashing down, and the audience roared once more.

“Murderer!” called the bellman. “Death for a death,” he thought, but this one wasn’t clean. Perhaps the handle slipped in his gloved fingers, or perhaps he simply missed his target, but the steel failed to pierce all the way through the neck bones. No matter — another swing would finish the job, and the audience cheered with even greater enthusiasm.

“Dissenter!” called the bellman, dragging forward a lofty, well-built man. “Unfortunate that he could not share the King’s vision,” he thought, as his axe chopped cleanly through the man’s neck.

“Insulter!” rang the bellman’s high-pitched, vexatious voice. He seemed to grow more excited as the line grew ever shorter. “Perhaps he slandered the King himself,” he thought, his arms burning with effort as he forced the steel through crunching bone and squelching flesh.

“Unbowed!” the bellman shouted, barely audible over the ardent howl of the audience. “A dangerous thing, surely, to refuse your King,” he thought, though this time the man was old. He was hunched forward, unable to lower himself to the block, but no matter — the guards would force him down. “He could not bow…” he thought, as the blood sprayed across the floor. The servants scrubbed tirelessly, and the bellman called the next.

“Mother of three!” he shouted. “Mother?” he thought, as a tearful woman was thrown before his feet. His eyes met hers, and within them he saw terror. “This is just?” he thought, hesitating as the audience simmered down to expectant silence.

All eyes fell on him. “I suppose they have their reasons. I am absolved,” he thought, the roar of the audience returning. Within that hooded mask, a tear of his own fell gently down his cheek as the bellman called the next in line.