Aesilesius struggled in his bonds.
Tuvo Ausonius felt the butt of a spear prod him forward.
“Move, move,” said a guard.
“We have been given no trial!” Titus Gelinus cried to the crowd.
He was answered by a chorus of jeers.
“Do not concern yourself, dear Gelinus,” said Iaachus. “The records of a trial can be written up any time, if one so wishes, and inserted in the public records. All will be in perfect order. It would satisfy even you.”
The group was now near the foot of the stairs leading up to the surface of the newly constructed, large wooden platform, it located in the great square, several yards before the steps leading up to the palace.
“At least,” said Julian, “we need not fear execution by the burning rack.”
“I do not understand,” said Otto.
“In the past,” said Julian, “execution by burning rack was common. Sometimes hundreds, even thousands, surrendered armies and helpless populations, were so executed, publicly, in arenas, along highways and thoroughfares, near markets, and such. Exasperated generals commonly dealt in this fashion with besieged city populations which had refused to surrender and had put up a lengthy and costly resistance.”
“I hope,” said Otto, “an exception was made in the case of attractive young women.”
“Certainly, commonly,” said Julian. “Who would wish to waste such loot? They would be stripped, collared, branded, chained, and sold.”
“Drisriaks favor the horse death,” said Otto, “in which a bound prisoner is dismembered by driven horses. Heruls often run prisoners naked for the dogs.”
“The burning rack,” said Julian, “was an ignoble death, a thing of shame, suitable for murderers and thieves. Floon, as you know, was executed by the burning rack. After that, as the faiths of Floon, incompatible as they are, began to spread, the burning rack took on a new significance. Eventually execution by burning rack became less common and more rare. Today the burning rack is often an object not of shame, but of reverence. Accordingly, the last thing one would wish to do today, at least in areas where Floonianism is recognized and respected, is execute a common criminal in such a manner.”
“Up the steps!” said a guard.
Otto, who was first in the coffle, began to ascend the stairs.
When the prisoners were aligned on the platform, a great cry arose from the crowd.
“Now they can see,” said Iaachus.
Corelius tried to pull away, but was detained by the coffle rope, burning his neck. “I do not belong here!” he cried. “Stay in line!” said a guard, striking him on the side with the shaft of a spear.
Such a blow could break ribs.
“I see no block, no axes,” said Julian.
“Nor will you,” said Iaachus. “An ancient death, it seems, from a thousand years past, has been restored for us.”
“What death?” asked Julian.
“We were not informed of the nature of the execution,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“The crowd will have been informed,” said Iaachus.
“Perhaps that is why there are so many,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“What death?” said Julian.
“The beast death,” said Iaachus, “one antedating even the burning rack, one reserved for criminals denied the dignity of our species, criminals regarded as less than men.”
“I have heard of it,” said Tuvo Ausonius shuddering.
“Sidonicus is a clever fellow,” said Titus Gelinus. “He is erudite. He is to be congratulated. He has consulted old records. He has a sense of political theater. The symbolism is clear. We are to be exterminated as filchen, as vermin. The crowd will applaud.”
“How a beast death?” asked Otto. “I see no beasts. This is not an arena. I would that my hands were not bound.”
“Do not think it will be a beast fight,” said Iaachus, “one in which you might attempt, however futilely, to protect yourself, even to prolong your life for a bit, by flight or resistance.”
“Ho, prisoners!” called a voice, from below the platform.
The crowd was then silent.
“It is the wretch, Fulvius,” said Iaachus.
“Where is Sidonicus?” asked Otto.
“Doubtless in the temple,” said Iaachus, “immersed in prayer.”
“Your actions,” called Fulvius, “have proclaimed you beasts. Accordingly you are to die as beasts.”
“Smudge me!” begged Corelius. “I beg it!”
“Corelius seeks to save himself,” said Iaachus.
“How so?” asked Otto.
“When one is smudged,” said Iaachus, “as the Floonians have it, all evil, all crimes, all wickedness, of which one might be guilty, however dark and heinous these things might be, is instantly gone, wiped away, done away with.”
“Interesting,” said Otto.
“The person then is innocent, and the innocent, of course, are not to be punished, and so on.”
“So he should be freed?” said Otto.
“I am not sure how Karch would view these matters,” said Titus Gelinus, “but the state takes a dim view of the business.”
“So, too, would headsmen, hangmen, and such,” said Iaachus.
“The koos, I gather,” said Titus Gelinus, “whatever that is, following the killing of the mere body, flies off to the table of Karch.”
“The body to the state, the koos to the temple?” said Otto.
“Something like that,” said Titus Gelinus. “It is hard to understand.”
“Corelius is no fool,” said Iaachus. “The temple is much involved in this, and might profit from some gesture of lenience or mercy.”
“Smudge me! Smudge me!” cried Corelius.
“One does not smudge beasts,” said Fulvius.
Corelius cried out in misery.
“However,” called Fulvius, “a public expression of sorrow, a crying out for forgiveness, a profound manifestation of repentance, might not be inappropriate, even for beasts.”
Fulvius waited a moment, and then, satisfying himself that a response was not in the offing, lifted his hand, signaling the guards on the platform. “Proceed,” he said.
The tunics of the prisoners were torn down to their waists.
Guards, in city livery, with whips, climbed the stairs, to the surface of the platform.
“We are to be softened, prior to the beast death,” said Iaachus.
“Stand, as long as you can,” said Otto.
“I survey the crowd,” said Julian. “I do not see Timon Safarius Rhodius, primarius of the senate. I was sure he would wish to be present.”
“He stands high amidst our foes,” said Otto. “His absence is puzzling.”
“He who is second in the senate, Clearchus Pyrides, senator from Inez IV, is present,” said Titus Gelinus.
“He does not seem pleased to be here,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“He seems in the custody of two guards, in a livery I do not recognize,” said Iaachus.
This livery was that of the newly formed temple guard.
“I see vendors in the crowd,” said Aesilesius, “selling drinks and sweets.”
Behind the line of prisoners whips were uncoiled.
“While the attention of the crowd is occupied,” said Iaachus, “pickpockets and cutpurses will be active.”
“I decline to sympathize with the victims,” said Titus Gelinus.
“Let the festivities begin!” called Fulvius.
A roar of pleasure arose from the crowd.
There was the sharp blow of a whip, and Otto stiffened.
Then, methodically, a guard behind each prisoner, blows were delivered, in serial order, one after the other, moving down the line, and then beginning again, once more, with Otto. The first to lose
his footing was Corelius at the end of the line, after only the ninth blow. His subsequent blows were administered to his kneeling, and then, later, to his collapsed, sobbing, twisting, writhing form.
After a time only the tall, mighty form of Otto, once of the festung village of Sim Giadini, at the foot of the heights of Barrionuevo, on the provincial world of Tangara, remained on its feet.
“He does not fall!” complained the captain of the city guards on the platform.
The crowd was growing restless, dissatisfied.
“Enough, enough!” called Fulvius. “We cannot have the others die under the whip. We must not cheat the beast death. Freshen the prisoners, revive them, and then proceed with the beast death.”
“Yes!” called several from the crowd.
Leather buckets filled with water were carried to the platform and dashed on the collapsed, insensate prisoners. Then, as they recovered consciousness, and could again feel the fire of their pain, they were lifted to a sitting position and administered draughts of water. They were then knelt, their knees on the bloody boards of the platform. Only Otto remained standing. He was given no water.
Julian was the first to rise from his knees, to stand beside Otto.
“I welcome you,” said Otto.
“At this time,” said Julian, “where better to be?”
The others then, with the exception of Corelius, struggled to their feet.
“I think I hear a strange sound, faraway,” said Iaachus.
“The crowd,” said Titus Gelinus.
A small, crooked figure, in the livery of the temple guard, climbed the steps of the platform, carrying a broad tray, on which reposed an ugly burden.
“Greetings, vile Otung,” said the small figure.
“We are honored,” said Otto, “to be visited by noble Urta, the King Namer, high on Tangara, betrayer of his people, agent of Heruls, thief of the medallion and chain, tool of the temple, and would-be assassin.”
“Jest while it pleases you,” said Urta. “On this tray I bear your death.”
“I know not your livery,” said Otto.
“It is that of the temple guard,” said Urta.
“Liveries are sewn for larger men,” said Otto.
“A filch may prosper where a lion perishes,” said Urta.
“In any event,” said Otto, “I gather you are now a servitor of Karch.”
“Gods are conveniences,” said Urta. “One believes in them selectively.”
“It seems we are to be doubly honored,” said Iaachus. “Holy Fulvius, deputy exarch of Telnar, intends to grace us with his presence.”
“He would be exarch, I am sure,” said Titus Gelinus.
Fulvius had ascended to the platform, and, turning to face the crowd, congratulated it on its piety, assured it that it basked in the sunshine of Floon, and that the doings of the day were prescribed by Karch. He concluded by blessing the crowd with the rectangular sign of the burning rack. He then turned to the prisoners. “Behold the grim contents which lie upon the tray borne by my loyal minion, the noble Urta,” he said.
“You contemplate murder,” said Titus Gelinus.
“As a man of law,” said Fulvius, “you know it is impossible to murder a beast. One can kill a beast, but one cannot murder it.”
“We are not beasts,” said Titus Gelinus.
“Law is subject to interpretation,” said Fulvius. “It means what those in power will have it mean.”
“Caviling monster,” said Titus Gelinus.
“Behold the tray,” said Fulvius. “On it lie two objects, each the severed paw of a black vi-cat. A hand can be thrust, glovelike, into each of the paws. The five claws, long and curved, on each paw have been hollowed out, and opened at the tip. They are thus rather like the fangs of a venomous serpent, say, the asp of Naxos. Each claw, as you now suspect, is laden with poison. Raked across a living body, breaking the skin, even slightly, the poison is introduced into the blood stream.”
“An eloidial mercury,” said Julian.
“Nothing so merciful or benign,” said Fulvius. “It is a rare poison unknown even to most professional suppliers of poison. It is seldom duplicated, apparently because it is extremely hazardous to handle and analyze. We think it is a medley of horrors designed to produce a variety of symptoms. From that property it derives its entertainment value. Needless to say it is expensive. It has many names on many worlds, ‘Torment’, ‘Rainbow’, and such. We purchased it under the local name ‘The World Convulses’. There is much speculation as to its ingredients but it is commonly thought it has, at least in part, some relation to the venom glands of the tiny golden toad of Inez VI.”
“Doubtless you have tested it,” said Otto.
“Secretly, in the prisons, four times,” said Fulvius.
“I take it that the results were impressive,” said Iaachus.
“Quite,” said Fulvius.
“It is called the beast death, I gather,” said Aesilesius, “because it is introduced into the body by means of the claws of a beast, rather as though it might feign the attack of an animal.”
“Think of it as a beast killing a beast, so to speak,” said Fulvius.
“I see,” said Aesilesius.
“Free me!” begged Corelius, still on his knees. “I will serve you faithfully and well!”
“We have had our fill of your faithfulness and service,” said Fulvius.
“Please!” wept Corelius.
“If death is inevitable,” said Titus Gelinus, “it may as easily be faced bravely as fearfully.”
“Please, please, sweet, kind, holy Fulvius, ministrant of merciful all-forgiving Floon!” wept Corelius.
“Following the envenomed lacerations,” said Fulvius, “the bursting of blood from pores, the shrieking for unobtainable breath, the blotching of skin, the bleeding of eyes, the convulsions, the nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea, your intestines will be drawn out and your bodies will be dismembered, the parts then, tied together with gut, to be hung outside the gates of Telnar.”
“Mercy!” begged Corelius.
Fulvius turned to Urta.
“The prisoners are helpless, weakened, well bound, bloodied from the whip,” he said. “There is no danger. You may now thrust your hands into the claw gloves and tear their flesh, thus administering the liquids of justice and rightfulness.”
Urta looked down, trembling, at the two heavy, inert, severed paws. “I fear to touch these things,” he said. “I have borne the tray. It is enough. Let another go further.”
“Do you hear it?” asked Iaachus.
“Yes,” said Otto.
“What?” asked Julian.
“Bells,” said Otto, “from the dock district.”
“I hear nothing,” said Titus Gelinus.
“Captain,” said Fulvius.
One of the guards on the platform responded, stepping forward, he who had been first amongst the attending city guardsmen. He had supervised the ascent to the surface of the platform and the beating of the prisoners.
“This is Captain Harst, of the City Guard,” said Fulvius. “He will administer the poison.”
“I would not do so, if I were you,” said Otto.
Captain Harst, carefully, thrust his hands into the gloves.
“Given my office,” said Fulvius, “I abhor the shedding of blood.”
He then withdrew from the platform.
Some in the crowd moved, uneasily, looking about.
“Throughout the crowd,” said Otto, “there are troops, city guardsmen, and, I gather, temple guardsmen. Too, there are numerous armed retainers, many in inconspicuous garb, presumably to conceal their numbers. I suggest you remove them from the field.”
“From the field?” asked the captain.
“They cannot meet the enemy as they are,” said Otto. “Withd
raw them, assemble them, take up positions, form your lines of battle.”
“Are you mad?” said the captain.
The poison gloves were now fully on the captain’s hands.
“Surely you hear the bells,” said Otto.
The captain lifted his head, warily, straining.
Urta cast down the now-bare tray and hastily descended from the platform.
“What is going on?” said the captain.
“Can you read the sounds, the letters?” Otto asked Iaachus.
“Yes!” said Iaachus.
At that point four ships streamed over the square.
“The four lion ships of Ortog!” said Julian.
“They will land near the carnariums, as did the vessels of Abrogastes,” said Iaachus.
“The gates will be shut against them,” said Titus Gelinus.
“That the ships have passed overhead,” said Otto, “means that the gates have already been secured.”
“I see other ships!” said Tuvo Ausonius. “From the opposite direction! What ships are they?”
“I know not,” said Otto.
“I advise you, Captain,” said Iaachus, “to withdraw while you still have time.”
“The defensive batteries did not fire,” said Aesilesius.
“Men have infiltrated from the fields, from the countryside,” said Otto. “The batteries have been seized.”
“The crowd senses something is amiss,” said Titus Gelinus.
“It wavers, stirs, and mills,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
There was a long sound, the prolonged note of some device, wild and menacing, coming from the direction of the dock district.
“You hear that?” asked Otto.
“What is it?” asked Iaachus.
“It is the war horn of the Otungen,” said Otto.
“Prepare to die,” said Captain Harst.
“I recommend that you withdraw while you can,” said Otto.
“We are helpless!” said Iaachus.
“So much the better,” said the captain.
“Save yourself,” said Otto.
“Die!” cried Captain Harst, raising his gloved hands, both of them, high, with the ten long, curved, venom-laden claws, poised to rake and tear flesh.
Otto, though bound, and coffled, drove his booted foot into the officer’s belly once, and then again, fiercely, forcing him from the platform, over the edge, he then, his footing lost, tumbling back down, rolling, stair by stair, to the level of the square below.
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