off.'
'Um… Won't that kill them?'
'That's right. I want them dead, so you'll do that for me. You mustn't talk to them. Just cut off their heads. You'll have a mask over your face.'
'Yes, Master. I'll make them dead for you.'
That was something he could do. That would be more fun than trying to talk with men who curled their lips at his accent or dancing with ladies who showed that gap between their breasts.
Ludwig came in carrying Master's fur-lined cloak across his outstretched arms. Ludwig was the baron's valet, a blond, sullen, square-faced man. He never spoke to Toby at all. He laid the precious thing over a chair and turned to the baron, who waved a plump hand at Toby in a flash of jewels.
'Toby, Ludwig will help you. You have to strip for this. You need freedom of movement.'
Toby jumped up and submitted in silence, letting Ludwig remove his jerkin and doublet, leaving only him his cap and shirt and hose. His hose were very well tailored, snug around his waist, so he wasn't afraid that they would fall off, but his awful codpiece showed even more than before. He took off his shirt as well. 'I can keep my hose on, can't I, Master?'
The baron smiled. 'Yes. You are a very impressive-looking executioner, Toby! Hit as hard as you can, so you cut off their heads with one stroke.'
'Yes, Master! I'm strong!' Toby grinned and bulged the muscle in his arm. 'Bang! No head!'
'That's the way! Show that muscle to the ladies tonight — in your chamber, though, not in the dining room. One of these men is named Hamish Campbell, Toby.'
Hamish Campbell? Hamish? Campbell? He ought to know that name! His memory was very patchy. He could remember some things clearly, and others not at all. He knew exactly how to load and prime a musket, but one night someone had asked him if he had any brothers or sisters and he was still wondering about that. One day he would ask the baron if he knew the answer.
Ludwig wrapped a cloak around him and laced cork-soled shoes over his buskins, then did the same for the baron. Toby hurried to the door so he could open it for Master.
Captain Diaz and an honor guard were waiting in the corridor. Not knowing where to go, Toby stayed close to Ludwig, and that seemed to be what was expected of him. The innumerable servants and flunkies who infested the palace cleared a path, bowing low as the viceroy and his escort marched down the stairs and across the hallway.
Then they were out in the courtyard with a flunky holding an umbrella over the baron. Ludwig tapped Toby's shoulder to stop him, beckoned him to a corner, and took away his cap, putting a black hood on him instead. Toby adjusted it until he could see through the eye holes. The cloak was lifted from his shoulders, letting cold rain beat down on his skin.
The world had shrunk to a keyhole framed in darkness. He scanned the court awkwardly, wondering where he was supposed to go. Master was already installed on a chair under a canopy, attended by a crowd of dignitaries, but his place must be on the platform, because he could see an ax waiting there. Pleased to have worked that out for himself, he stalked across to it and mounted the steps with care, aware of lots of eyes watching him. Everyone would laugh if the executioner tripped and fell flat on his face.
The block was a massive knee-high chunk of timber. He took up the great curved-blade ax, wishing Master had told him about this job sooner, so he could have tried a few practice strokes. It was a very heavy ax and necks must be easier to cut than trees. He stood it upright on its blade, rested his forearms on the end of the long handle, and smiled at Master to say he was ready. But of course his head was covered, so Master wouldn't see his smile.
Those must be his victims there, standing in a circle of guards with their heads raised defiantly — two boys stripped to their doublets and hose, feet shackled and arms bound behind them. A gowned acolyte stood with them, giving last-minute comfort. From their bedraggled appearance it seemed they had all been standing in the rain for some time. They both looked familiar.
The first one was led forward, clanking up the steps with the soldiers behind him and shuffled forward to stand before the block. Why, it was Don Ramon! Toby smiled at him, pleased to have remembered his name.
The don stared back at him with a disdainful expression, but he didn't speak. He couldn't, because his mouth was held wide open by a wooden gag. That must be very uncomfortable. Poor don! His auburn hair had been hacked off short to expose his neck. The ginger mustache that used to curve up in twisted points hung limply over his mouth.
Why wasn't he putting his head down for Toby to chop? A clerk began reading out a long thing about Don Ramon de Nunez y Pardo being a Castilian spy. Toby fingered the ax impatiently. The rain was cold on his bare chest.
Poor, mad Don Ramon, with his fancy airs! He didn't look frightened. His face had always been pale and was no paler now, while the startlingly blue eyes were as haughty and contemptuous as ever. When the clerk's drone ended, he shrugged scornfully and sank to his knees. He laid his shoulders on the block, turning his head sideways, away from the headsman. Good!
Quickly Toby took a step backward and raised the ax. Master wanted one stroke, one stroke it would be. He brought his foot forward and his arms down with all the power he could summon. He felt the impact as much through his feet as in his hands. Don Ramon's head hit the planks with a thud and rolled. One stroke it was! Master would be pleased with him.
The explosion of blood took him by surprise, although he should have remembered how pigs bled when their throats were cut. At first it sprayed out against the ax in a red fan, but as the corpse slid back it hosed from the severed neck in high jets — two, three, and a weak fourth before the heart stopped beating. Ax, block, and scaffold were drenched. Nasty! He must remember to wash it off his arms and chest before he undressed with the pretty ladies tonight. He worked the ax blade free of the wood, a soldier picked up the head, and two more dragged away the body. The redness was seeringly bright in the drabness of the day.
The next one must be Hamish Campbell. His face was sort of familiar. Toby smiled at him, but he couldn't smile back because of the gag. He clattered forward in his fetters less proudly than Don Ramon had, but not slowly enough to make the soldiers push him. His eyes were as wide as his gaping mouth.
The clerk began reading about spying again. The Hamish boy just kept staring at Toby and shaking his head wildly. What did that mean? Was he doing something wrong? Was his hood not on straight?
When the clerk fell silent, the prisoner did not seem to notice. A guard laid a hand on his shoulder. He squirmed away. Two men grabbed him and pushed him down to his knees. Still he struggled, making protesting animal noises in his throat — poor, foolish fellow! He might make Toby miss if he didn't stop doing that, or miss partly and have to hit again. But Master had told him not to speak, so he couldn't warn him.
Two more soldiers lifted the victim's feet. With four of them holding him level, his chest resting on the block, he could do nothing except twist his head around and wail. Squirreling like a worm on a hook was still not going to make things easy. Toby began to lift the ax and then put it down again.
The soldiers were unhappy, too, waiting for that whistling blade and the shower of blood. Fortunately Captain Diaz was nearby. 'Keep still, you fool!' he roared. 'You want him to botch this? You want to be hacked in pieces?'
The prisoner went rigid. Toby raised and swung, and again the scaffold trembled under the impact. The head jumped free. One stroke again! Master would be pleased. This time the body could not fall back, so the hot blood squirted in all directions off the ax blade, soaking even Toby's hood. That really was not nice. Some of the soldiers gagged and coughed, and they had gotten off much lighter than he had.
Duty done, he pulled the ax free and leaned it against the block, where he had found it. He turned his head for a glance at Master who smiled and nodded a welcome approval. Glad to have done a good job, Toby headed for the steps. A quick bath to clean off the blood, then back into his fine clothes and he would be ready for the dinner and the well-preserved ladies. He just hoped he could do as well for them as he had for the two spies, so Master would be pleased with him.
CHAPTER TWO
