Chapter 18. In the Shadow of the Scaffold

'By your leave, my lord,' Hunethon said diffidently. 'There are men in the stocks awaiting release.'

'Go,' the Steward said. 'Likely they won't thank you for your tardiness.'

Balanurthon's assistant snorted to himself as he approached the gate. Come early or come late, he could not imagine being thanked. His was a thankless job, but at least it kept the streets clean and safe and enforced good manners amongst the people of the great city.

The men locked in the stocks would have to wait longer, however, for with a clatter of hoofs a group of riders rode through the gateway. Hunethon ought to have been warned by the clash of the guards' weapons in salute, but his head was heavy, his ears ringing, and he wasn't paying best attention. He stepped to the side to allow the riders to pass, but only two of them did. The third reined in, and the next thing he knew Balanurthon had dismounted and was standing before him.

'Just what has been going on?' Balanurthon demanded.

'The prisoners in the...' Hunethon said feebly, meaning to say that the men in the stocks were still awaiting release, but Balanurthon interrupted.

'Did you hang them?' he demanded.

His assistant looked at him as if he'd lost his wits. 'Of course,' he said. 'Isn't that my duty? To hang the men sent me by Steward or King?'

With a muttered oath Balanurthon stalked towards the gallows, gesturing to Hunethon to follow. The men in the stocks would be very belated in their release, it seemed.

It was a pitiful scene to behold indeed, there on the grass before the gallows. Young Robin knelt by his father's side, his head bowed. Denny stood by him, hand on Robin's shoulder. Seledrith wept, clinging to Will. Her father and brothers stood a little behind her, waiting for the first waning of her grief. Steward and guardsmen stood to the side, silent, watching; Pippin had asked that the family be allowed to take their leave, and the Steward, moved by Seledrith's anguish, had agreed. The ragged ruffian lay a little apart, sadly distinguished by the lack of mourners.

The King reined in his horse and slid from the saddle. His steps were heavy as he approached the bodies.

'My Lord!' the Steward called, startled. 'We did not expect your return until the morrow!'

'Haldoron,' Elessar said, and stopped, looking at the dreadful scene that the torches illuminated.

Pippin stumbled towards him, flanked by Merry and Sam. 'Strider,' he whispered. 'You've come at last. Alas...!'

'Haldoron,' the King said again. 'What is this?'

'I apologise, my Lord,' the Steward said. 'These men were to have met their end this morning, in a timely manner, but were kept waiting instead, most of the day, through circumstances... had it come to my ears earlier, be assured I would have seen to their quick despatch.' He would speak to Elessar later, privately, about the interference of the Halflings. Truly they had no business sticking their noses into the King's justice! Elessar must set boundaries and make it plain to the little folk. It was for their own good, after all.

'No,' Elessar said. 'These men had the favour of the Thain, and had earned my pardon, for their deeds far outweighed their trespasses. Did the Halflings not speak for them...?' Though he knew the answer to this already. Likely the hobbits had spoken, pleaded, even offered themselves in the men's places.

'They spoke,' the Steward said, shaken. 'But I thought... I...' Elessar's face was hard and cold, even in the light of torches, and Haldoron faltered to a stop, no longer confident. Had he somehow been in error? These men had broken an edict of the King! The penalty was death by hanging. Where had he gone wrong?

'We will speak of this later,' Elessar said in dismissal, and the Steward retreated a step or two in confusion, while the guardsmen stood stiff and wiped all expression from their faces, wondering, perhaps, if their names would be added to the list of those awaiting floggings in the morning.

'We spoke for them,' Merry said, for Pippin in his grief was beyond words as he looked from Rob to Jack to Will. 'For all the good it did.'

'Jack,' the King said, looking down at the old man, and then to Seledrith, still embracing her husband. 'Will.' He looked to the ragged corpse and then back to Pippin. 'What of young Rob?'

'We were able to save him,' Merry said. 'Pippin had to threaten and bluster, but in the end they released him and did not force him to march to the gallows.'

'I am Rob,' said the kneeling youth. He stood to his feet, stood swaying before the King. 'My name is on the death warrant with theirs.' He gulped back a sob. 'Jack had the right of it,' he whispered. 'He said they'd hang us all, that there would be no mercy, and he was right.'

'The King is here now,' Pippin said, but the youth shook his head.

'You saved me for this day,' Rob answered. 'But what's to stop them from hanging me tomorrow, alongside my brother?'

Elessar scarcely heard; he was kneeling at Jack's side, taking up the limp hand in his own. 'But this man is not dead!' he said in consternation.

The Steward stepped forward once more. 'We were about to carry him to the dungeons,' he said diffidently. 'From what the Halflings told me, I thought perhaps you would like to hear his case yourself, on your return on the morrow. I thought, with him being old and infirm, that you might extend mercy to him.'

'And Will?' the King said.

'Of course I expected no pardon for him,' the Steward began. 'He's young and strong, and in no need of pity...' His voice trailed off in light of the King's stern expression.

Seledrith looked up. 'He breathes,' she whispered. 'How it is, I do not know, but I heard them say they'll take him to the dungeons tonight and finish him at dawn.'

'Hunethon!' Balanurthon hissed in outrage. He strode forward, dropping to his knees at Will's head, examining Will's neck and throat with a light touch. 'Neck not broken,' he muttered.

'Litters!' the King snapped, and the waiting guardsmen jumped to obey. 'Carry them, not to the dungeons, but to the Houses of Healing! And let there be no more talk of hanging these men!' He took a few deep breaths and added, more quietly. 'They have earned great reward with their actions. They ought to have been borne through the streets of the city in honour, not marched to the gallows in disgrace.'

'I... I... didn't know,' the Steward said, drawing a shaking breath.

'If you please, ma'am,' the sergeant said, bending over Seledrith. 'The King has ordered us to...'

'I know,' she whispered, raising her head. 'I heard.' But she did not release her grasp on her husband, and she stared at Balanurthon's careful probing fingers as if she expected some sudden move on his part to finish the work his assistant had started.

'Balanur?' the King said.

The executioner shook his head. 'Not enough damage done to kill him quickly,' he said. 'It was a sloppy piece of work, indeed, and my assistant will be reaping the fruit of his carelessness on the morrow...' He raked his assistant with a scathing glance. 'Go and release the men from the stocks!'

Hunethon gulped as he bowed to the King and whirled to trot away to tend to yet more neglected duty. If he thought he was aching now, a residue of the fever, well, by the end of the next day he'd be in pain from head to toe, every muscle afire, from the practice Balanurthon would demand, employing ropes and sandbags.

'...but there is a fair amount of damage,' Balanurthon continued. 'If you would, Sir...'

Elessar nodded and moved to Will's side, making room for the litter bearers to ease Jack onto a litter.

Seledrith watched anxiously as the hands of the King gently examined Will's throat, and as the King bent close to listen to the soft rasping breaths.

'Has he spoken?' Elessar said at last, raising his head to look into Seledrith's eyes.

She swallowed hard, never having spoken face-to-face with such an august personage before, and shook her head. When the guardsmen settled the litter on the ground beside Will, she clung all the tighter, forgetting for the moment that Will had become a stranger to her; he was her husband and the father of her child, and had all but been taken from her this day, and who knew what the dark hours ahead of them held?