by Unknown
‘Get back on your stomach, Scarsberg.’ he snarled. ‘Stay bloody still—or I’ll put a bullet in your brain.’
She fought her way back onto her stomach, not wishing to incur any further injury. What she had really wanted to do was make one of them snap, in the hope that they would kill her before her execution.
#
The journey to Hyde Park was coming to its end. The guards readied their prisoner for disembarkation on arrival. The crowds had already begun gathering in the distance to witness the spectacle of a high profile execution. She listened to them as they chanted faintly in the distance. She couldn’t make out what they were chanting, but it couldn’t be anything nice; they sounded like they were baying for blood.
‘Hear that, Scarsberg? That’s for you, that is.’ the lead guard sneered. ‘I have another surprise, a special treat for your birthday.’ he paused.
Her eyes widened in horror, her mind frantically wondering what could be worse than being burnt alive.
‘Your sentence has been changed slightly. You are now going to face the punishment for high treason.’
Miriam knew what that meant. There was only one punishment for high treason—and that was to be hung, drawn and quartered. The current government favoured medieval execution techniques over more lenient forms of punishment. She would be the first female to have to go through the painful procedure, and it wouldn’t be the quick death she had desired.
The van came to a standstill just beyond the crowd of people, the chanting even louder now. She stared at the rear of the van as two of the guards gripped her underarms, ready to lift when the doors swung open. The third guard stood behind her, ready to lift her feet off the floor. She would be carried out the same way they had carried her in. She could hear the words of the chant now, and it wasn’t what she expected: it was a defiant chant aimed at the government, and not at her. The people would regard her as a martyr after this day, and the chant reflected that.
‘Down with the government! Free Miriam Scarsberg!’ was the chant, and the patrolmen policing the event could only stand and listen; the crowd outnumbered them ten to one.
The doors to the van were finally opened and a bright light shone through, blinding Miriam momentarily. She tried to adjust her eyes to the brilliant sunlight as she was lifted out of the van by the three guards charged with taking her to her death.
The crowd roared to life upon seeing her, cheering for her as she was taken towards the stage. This encouraged her to make the guards’ job difficult, and she struggled with every ounce of energy she had left. The journey from the van to the stage was proving to be the single most exhausting trip that the guards had ever made, and the crowd screamed with every jerky movement that she provided. They were enjoying watching the guards struggle.
#
Miriam was faced with two pieces of thick rope: one, a noose attached to a pulley, and the other attached to the floor. She was placed on the stage for the first phase of her execution. To her left was a wooden table with restraints in each corner. It would be used to administer the second phase, as well as the third.
One of the guards stood behind her, unlacing the leather face mask that had prevented her from speaking or biting. The things she wanted to say on the journey to Hyde Park began to bubble to the surface. In one foul-mouthed sentence she said what she needed to say. The guard was beginning to regret taking the face mask off, and promptly placed it back on before turning her around to face the onlookers. She scoured the awestruck crowd, listening to their chants and drinking them in.
Her eyes widened as she recognised some of the faces in the crowd. John, Oscar and the flock of women and children in his charge had made it to London safely. He had heard about the execution from one of his colleagues during a checking-in phone call. It was he who had started the chanting, getting the crowd on her side. Did he have a rescue plan? Would she be spared from this barbaric form of execution? It was too late for the others—they had already been dealt with. Plumes of smoke rose in the distance from another point of execution. The wind carried the smell of burning flesh.
She bowed her head before looking up again; she stared directly at John, her eyes telling him not to do anything rash, anything that would give him away. He knew what she was trying to tell him, and Oscar just stared towards the stage in terror. He looked at Miriam in her helpless state and then turned to John, staring up at him forlornly.
‘There’s nothing I can do for her, Oscar.’ he said softly, looking to see if anybody had heard him. ‘She doesn’t want us to interfere.’
Oscar stared blankly at him, not comprehending what had been said to him. He simplified it for him: ‘she doesn’t want us to help her.’
#
‘You are stood here today, charged with high treason against the government—and sentenced to death by hanging, drawing and quartering. Do have anything to say before the sentence is carried out?’ the judge and executioner asked. She burnt holes into him. What a stupid question to ask—how the hell can I say anything with this thing on my face? She growled at him as a reply. He was fully aware that she was unable to voice her opinion, and he chuckled to himself.
‘Prepare her.’ he ordered, as he went to stand by the pulley for the first phase.
Her wrist and ankle restraints were removed by one of the guards, and her arms were pinned tightly to her sides by a leather strap, putting pressure on her cracked rib. She was walked over to the two lengths of rope. She looked up at the noose; all fear and pain had drained from her body. She had resigned herself to her death, and felt nothing but relief.
She was shunted round to face the crowd again and a new found bravery for her situation washed over her. A defiant look played in her eyes, emulating into the sea of people in front of her. The noose was placed around her neck, and the leather face mask removed again by the executioner as a guard tied her feet with the other length of rope. She turned to face her executioner.
‘You asked if I had something to say before I die.’ She cried. ‘Long live The Independent Mind! Down with the government!’ she shouted into the crowd, which they acknowledged with a mighty roar. The executioner begun to turn the pulley, lifting her clean off the ground. The noose tightened around her throat, her body stretching, slowly killing her—so close to death she was released to the ground, barely conscious but still alive for the next phase. The first phase lasted a full five minutes as the crowd booed and chanted at the executioner and the guards who had brought her to face death.
She was carried over to the table by two guards, the leather strap removed from around her arms. Her hands and ankles were placed roughly in the restraints in each corner. Her body was limp, drained of all energy. Her orange boiler suit was ripped open to bare her midriff, flashing her stomach. The executioner stood over her and cut deep into her flesh, starting from the bottom of her rib cage and going to the bottom of her sternum. She screamed her last scream, blood spewing from her mouth like an exploding volcano as she was disembowelled. Her organs were held up for the entire crowd to see. She had passed her last breath with a final exhale, and her head fell to the side with her eyes wide open. She was dead!
The executioner tossed the innards into the jeering crowd, showering them in the blood and guts of a heroine, a martyr. The final phase of the process was to cut off Miriam’s head, to be used as a reminder of what happened if you defied or threatened the government in any way. The executioner pulled a chainsaw from behind the stage. He started pulling on its cord, waiting for it to buzz to life. In one jagged movement, her head was sawn off and held up for all to gaze upon, before being taken to the centre of Hyde Park by one of the idle guards. It would be placed on a pike there, for all to see. Her body was cut into four, to be placed in four separate locations where rebellion was rife.
The crowd was forced to disperse after a while. Oscar was white as a ghost, and he felt sick with what he had just witnessed. It was a horrifying incident for him to have to watch, especially at his young age
, and especially happening to someone of whom he had grown fond. John hung his head ashamedly, wishing that he could have done something to prevent this tragedy. But there wasn’t; she had made a great sacrifice for the cause, as had the other executed members of The Independent Mind.
But what would become of Oscar? Would John take him in or would he become the states problem—who knows?