***
Blessed Mother, I hear you.
Blessed Mother, I see you.
Blessed Mother, I feel you.
Blessed Mother, I come to you.
The rattle of the lock jolted Maegwin from her prayers. The door creaked open and two guards entered. They were both scarred, hard men. Without a word, they yanked her to her feet. She didn't resist. They fixed a pair of iron manacles round her wrists and marched her out.
The other prisoners pressed up against the bars of their cells as she was led past. They stared with dull, emotionless eyes, knowing they would soon share her fate. Morran's eyes glittered with tears and his old face was full of sorrow.
Maegwin smiled at him. "I'll save you a seat in the afterlife, old man."
Morran reached through the bars and squeezed her arm. "Be brave, lassie. Be brave."
The guards marched her from the cells, through the guardhouse, and to a small office. Inside, a bald man sat behind a desk, staring at her with pitiless eyes. Maegwin had met this man just once before, when she had first been brought to face the king's justice. Amin Shador, the governor of the Mallyn jail. She knew little of him, except what the other prisoners had said. The disgraced younger son of a lord, he'd been sent here as punishment for bedding his brother's wife. Maegwin knew she would get no mercy from him.
Sho-La, my light, my guide, my mistress, she thought. I come to your halls.
"Your name?" Shador demanded.
"You know my name."
"Indulge me."
Maegwin tipped her chin up. "Maegwin de Romily, priestess of Sho-La."
Shador inclined his head gravely. "Maegwin de Romily, you have been sentenced to hang for the murders of Lord Meryk Hounsey and three of his guardsmen. You will now go to your death. Do you understand?"
She nodded.
"Do you wish to see a priest?"
"No. Get on with it."
"As you wish."
Amin Shador stood and donned a long black cape. He led her from the room, the guards following close behind.
As she stepped outside, the midday sun sliced into Maegwin's eyes like broken glass. Everything was picked out in stark brilliance: the circular courtyard, the thick gates, the crowd staring at her, the wooden platform on the far side. A gallows grew out of this platform like a bald, ugly tree. A noose hung from it, slowly turning in the breeze.
Shador snapped at the guards, "Take her quickly to the scaffold. Let's get this done."
Shador strode purposefully forward and the guardsmen propelled Maegwin after him. A path opened for them but the crowd pressed close on both sides. The threat of anger filled the air. Maegwin's eyes moved over the crowd, searching for a spark of compassion. She found none. The people of Mallyn glared at her with eyes full of violence. They saw only a murderer and traitor.
"Faithless whore!" a man hissed.
"The Fates will send you straight to the Darkness!" an old woman shouted.
The executioner, a massive man wearing sweat-stained leather and a crude wooden mask over the top half of his face, waited patiently beside the gallows with his arms folded. "And how is milady this morning? Ready to give us all a good show?"
She smiled at him. "I forgive you for taking my life. May Sho-La grant you mercy."
The grin on the man's face faltered. He grabbed Maegwin's elbow and forced her up onto a three-legged stool. The scaffold creaked as the executioner pulled the noose over Maegwin's head. The rope felt coarse and prickly where it lay against the skin of her neck. Soon she would drop and the noose would tighten, crushing her windpipe, choking the life from her?
A wave of fear clenched her stomach. Her heart pounded.
Sho-La, my mistress, she thought desperately. Please give me courage!
Shador unrolled a parchment and read in a monotone voice, "By order of the Lord Sheriff of Mallynshire, according to the laws of King William of Amaury, I hereby announce that Maegwin de Romily?"
Maegwin stopped listening. A family of crows landed noisily on the wall and hopped about, looking for something to scavenge. In the crowd, a child turned in his mother's arms and regarded Maegwin solemnly. Why had a child been brought to watch her die? Surely he was too young to be taught such hatred?
Maegwin turned her gaze skyward. The heavens were a clear, perfect blue. Yes, it was a good day to die.
"?to be hanged from the neck until she be dead. Fates have mercy on her soul."
With a crunch of splintering wood, the executioner kicked the stool out from under her. Maegwin fell. The noose snapped tight, pain exploding through her. Maegwin choked, desperately trying to suck in a breath. Blood pounded in her ears. Her eyes bulged in their sockets and she squeezed them shut. Her body bucked and jerked. As her muscles convulsed she felt her legs kicking. As her breath left her, the movement became slower, slower, slower.
Then stilled.
The Last Priestess is available now!
About the Author
Elizabeth Baxter was born and raised in England. In her spare time she enjoys reading, hiking, traveling the world and watching England play cricket. She's been writing since she was six years old and plans to continue for as long as she's able to hold a pen (or a keyboard). If you are interested in more information about the author and forthcoming books, visit her at:
Website/blog: https://elizabethbaxter.blogspot.co.uk
Twitter: https://twitter.com/smallblondhippy
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