holding our heads for us so that we would not drown when the water gushed down our throats. After easing our thirst, he examined our limbs. Where the skin had burst from swelling, he rubbed a soothing salve into the wound.
This was done under the silent scrutiny of the chief overseer, who stood before his house watching all that was done for us. Satisfied that no bones were broken, the little man turned to his superior, bowed once very low and departed, muttering to himself.
The guards bound us hand and foot once more and left us to our anguish for the night. The pain of my bruised body kept me awake all night, and I lay on my side in the dust-too sore to move, but too aching to lie still-thinking that death would be a mercy, and one we would certainly be denied.
I thought, too, that the punishment we were enduring was far in excess of any crime we might have committed. We had laid hand to a guard, I do not deny it, but that we should be subjected to such savage punishment, was an absurdity I could not understand. It made no sense to me, but then, I reflected, very little of what happened in this world made any sense at all. To believe it did…that was absurd.
At dawn the next morning, we were roused by the blowing of a horn-a trumpet, I think. From somewhere on the hillside came the dull bell-like tolling of someone beating a length of iron. In a little while the whole of the mining settlement was astir. People came from their houses to assemble on one side of the dusty square outside the chief overseer's dwelling. I heard someone moan beside me, and turned my head to see Gunnar awaken and take in the gathering throng.
'It seems we are to have witnesses to our torture today,' I remarked.
'It is not our torture that brings them,' replied Gunnar. 'They have come to see us die.'
He was right, of course. In a little while the other slaves began arriving, taking their places opposite the settlement dwellers on the other side of the square, where they stood in ranks behind the guards who had brought them. I looked for Cadoc and the other monks, and for Harald and the Sea Wolves, but I could see none of them in among the crowds.
When everyone had taken their places, the chief overseer appeared, accompanied by the pig-eyed underling who had directed the previous day's torture. This fellow walked about with upraised hands until everyone became silent; then he deferred to the chief overseer, who stepped forth to speak out a short address. At its conclusion, the master of the mine clapped his hands. Out from the throng of onlookers stepped three men. Two of them carried a wooden block, and the third a curved sword twice the size of an ordinary weapon. This great sword's blade was burnished so that it gleamed in the morning light.
'At least we will not have to suffer another day of beatings,' Gunnar observed. 'I do not think I could tolerate that.'
He made it sound as if he had come to the end of his good temper. In truth, he had come to the end of his life. We were not to be given a quick, painless death, however. No sooner had the block been set up nearby, than two horses were led out into the square. I could not understand what it meant, but Gunnar knew.
'I have heard of this,' he said, and explained that the victim was tied to the two horses, which were then driven in opposite directions, thereby stretching the condemned man's body between them. When the bones of the back separated sufficiently, the sword was used to hack the poor wretch in half. 'The unlucky one sometimes does not die all at once,' he added.
Dugal had not stirred, and I made to wake him, but thought better of it and let him sleep on. Let him enjoy the little peace he has left, I thought; at least he will enter glory well rested.
As it happened, his rest ended almost at once. For as soon as the horses were brought to stand either side of the block, four guards came to where we lay and laid hands to Dugal, jerking him awake violently. He gasped in pain at his rough handling, and his head fell limply forward.
I decided then what to do. Drawing together what little strength I possessed, I pushed myself up onto my knees. Black waves of pain broke over me as I raised my head. Placing one foot flat on the ground, I gritted my teeth and stood, tottering and wavering like an infant. The agony of that simple act brought tears to my eyes; I heard a roaring boom in my head, and somehow lurched forward a pace.
'Take me!' I said, my voice a raw rasp.
The guards turned to stare at me; one of them said something I did not understand, and the others returned to their task and dragged Dugal away.
'Leave him alone!' I shouted, almost collapsing with the effort. 'Take me instead.'
Another shout met my own. From across the yard the chief overseer called to the guards and pointed at me with his staff. The four guards dropped Dugal at once and started for me instead. I turned to Gunnar. 'Farewell, Gunnar Warhammer,' I whispered with the last of my strength. 'I am glad I knew you.'
'Say not farewell, Aeddan,' he said, struggling to his knees. 'Wait for me in the otherworld. We will go to your God together.'
I nodded, looking my last upon my battered friends. Then the guards seized my arms and hauled me to the block. We passed the place where Dugal lay. I saw that he had lost consciousness again. 'Farewell, brother,' I said, though I knew he was past hearing. 'You were ever a true friend to me, Dugal.'
We reached the block whereupon I was thrown to the ground, and they began lashing my hands together. They had almost finished the chore when a commotion arose from across the yard where the slaves were assembled. I heard shouting, and to my surprise I recognized both the voice and the words.
'Stop!' cried the voice. 'Let me take his place.'
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the figure of an old man hobbling forth as quickly as his wracked body would allow. After a moment, I realized that it was Bishop Cadoc. Gone were the robes and cloak, and gone the eagle-topped cambutta, but his voice was strong and powerful as ever. One of the guards ran to thwart him, but the chief overseer gestured to the man to allow him to come forth.
'Take me instead,' Cadoc said quickly, puffing with the effort of crossing the yard. I saw then that he was ill, for his eyes were hazy and his breath a laboured wheeze. He stepped nearer, gesturing to the chief overseer to help explain his words. 'I will take his place. I will take all their places. Take me, and let them go,' he said, offering himself.
'Please, Bishop Cadoc, it is better this way,' I pleaded. 'I am content and ready to die. God has forsaken me, and I have nothing left. Let it end now.'
The mine overseer looked from one to the other of us, and decided, I suppose, that he would get more work out of me than out of Cadoc, for he uttered a gruff command and the guards took hold of the bishop. Taking the rope from me, they tied the old man instead.
'Cadoc!' I began, 'It is not right that you-'
'Listen to me, Aidan,' he said, gently. 'There is not much time.' I made to protest to the chief overseer, but Cadoc stopped me, saying, 'I am dying, Aidan. I am nearly gone.'
'Bishop Cadoc…' I cried in agony.
'Peace, brother,' he soothed. 'I have reached the end of my life and I am ready to join my king. But you, Aidan, must live. There is much to do and your life is just beginning.'
His hands tied now, they pulled him roughly to the ground and bound his feet. Cadoc seemed oblivious to the mistreatment. 'You were well chosen, brother. Never doubt that. God will not forsake those who call upon his name. Cling to him, Aidan. He is your rock and your strength.'
They lifted him to the block and lay him over it, face down, his thin shoulders and legs falling to either side. A rope was passed through the tight leather bonds joining his hands, and another between his ankles; these were then tied to the horses' harnesses.
'Always remember,' he said, turning his face to me for the last time, 'your life was bought with a price. Remember that when doubt overtakes you. Farewell, Aidan.'
He then turned his head and closed his eyes. I heard the familiar drone of the Lord's Prayer.
The chief overseer spoke out a command, and the pit guard, whip in hand, stepped to the block, pushing me aside. I could not stand and fell to the ground where I rolled in torment on my bruised back. Another guard, a tall, well-muscled dark-skinned Sarazen, took his place on the other side of the block. He reached out his hand and received the curved axe.
At a nod from the chief overseer, the pit guard gave out a cry to the horses. His whip uncurled in the same instant and the crack echoed in the yard. The slaves all shouted at once. The horses started forth. Poor Cadoc's
