Chapter XXII

Wherein is related what end was reserved for the evil-doers by way of deterrent example, which example, however, only distressed the soft-hearted without terrifying the stiff-necked.

"I won't be there to see it," said Valentine to Simplex. "A shudder runs through my whole body when I think of a man torturing another. If a man were to beat, tweak, or flay me, I should only laugh at it; but when I see one man tormenting another, it makes my blood boil. I feel no dizziness when I stand on the edge of the loftiest precipice, but when I see another hovering over the abyss, I am beside myself with terror. I am amazed that there should be people who delight in watching the bloody scenes on the scaffold. The battlefield is quite another thing. There you fight man to man; there you do not hear the cries of the dying. The death I deal to one man, another man may at any moment deal to me. But I won't see men who are bound hand and foot tortured to death; I won't hear them shriek with anguish beneath the hand of the headsman."

"You'll go, notwithstanding," returned Simplex. "As I've already said, if you are a true Calvinist, you'll resign yourself to predestination, and must not say: 'I'll go hither, or, I'll go thither!' You will do what it was preordained you should do at the beginning of the world, and the place you are now going to is the town of Eperies, and the market place in that town."

And it all happened exactly as Simplex said. For they had no sooner stepped out of the tavern than they were stopped by a patrol of drabants, who learning that they were soldiers, showed them the mandate of the Commandant of Eperies, whereby all the soldiers on leave in the district were ordered to Eperies, to remain in the market place during the day, so that the people might not disturb the execution of the law's sentence, or the comrades of the robbers release them by a sudden and audacious onslaught.

So Valentine had to march to Eperies, with the other men-at-arms, whether he liked it or not.

Crowds of people were pouring into the town that day, from all quarters, as if a great banquet were to be given, or a lord lieutenant installed--gentlemen in coaches or on horseback, peasants sitting ten in a wagon, students, apprentices, peddlers, sacred-image sellers, and deceivers of all sorts.

Simplex and Valentine were sent on by wagon the same night to Eperies, where they arrived at dawn next morning.

At that time, Eperies no longer presented the smiling aspect of half a century before. The internecine disorders, the religious discussions, the ravages of robbers, had laid bare the whole region. The stumps of trees and wildering weeds were all that remained of the orchards which had once encircled the city walls, and whole rows of ruined pleasure houses were left to tell what a merry life had once been there.

Instead of the fine old plum and lordly apple trees quite another sort of grove had grown up around the bastions--a ghastly grove of gaunt, withered trees, laden with sad fruits, a wood of gallowses, wheels, and spikes, on which the bones of criminals were rotting. The three captured robber bands had largely contributed to this gruesome grove. The lesser fry, the receivers of stolen goods, and the women who had brought the robbers' powder from the town, had been executed outside the trenches, three days before; only for the three robber chieftains was reserved the supreme distinction of being done to death _within_ the walls. One could not make too sure of them.

In the great square, where the townhall and the large covered market stand opposite to each other, that terrible edifice, generally called the scaffold, had been raised. It towered high up and could only be ascended by ladders, which the headsman's apprentices, when they went to work, drew up after them so that none might follow. In the middle of the scaffold stood a broad block against which heavy wheels were leaning. On each side of the block two thick stakes were fastened with heavy dependent chains, the links of which could be locked and unlocked. From the top of each of these stakes projected huge forks with bars across them and hooks hanging down from the bars.

In front of the townhall a dais had been erected for the convenience of the sheriffs, mayor, and town councilors. A guard of honor stood in front of the dais, and the scaffold was environed by soldiers three deep. Valentine tried to get into the hindermost row. He wanted to see as little as possible of the terrible spectacle. Simplex stood by his side, so as to be at hand in case his friend was taken ill. The great square was filled with a gaping crowd. At the windows stood or sat gayly dressed women, just as if a Corpus Christi procession were about to pass. The very roofs of the houses were covered with human heads. Booths had been erected in the market place, where cakes and mead were offered for sale, steaks basted, and pancakes tossed in large pans. The biographies of the robbers, printed on coarse paper with red frontispieces, were also hawked about.

Conspicuous among the itinerant gypsies and peddlers was a woman who offered for sale long thongs fastened to the end of a stick, and was particularly importunate with Simplex.

"Come Mr. Trumpeter, won't you buy a thong made out of the skin flayed from the robbers' backs?"

Simplex at once recognized the voice; it was Pirka the witch. So under the pretext of chaffing with her, he at once entered into a conversation.

"What are these thongs of human skin good for?"

"They are good against the plague and falling sickness. They also keep wild beasts away, and compel the most stubborn of sweethearts to surrender."

"And how much are they apiece?"

"Four thalers."

But Valentine could stand it no longer.

"Don't be a fool," said he to Simplex, "she's cheating you. Those thongs of fool leather, you'll get them from the farriers for a penny apiece."

"That's all you know about it, Mr. Corporal," cried the witch, gnashing her teeth; "my husband is not a knacker who flays horses, but a headsman who flays men."

Valentine shuddered, and spat on the ground.

"Then if your wares be really genuine, they are doubly loathsome. Be off with you!"

Simplex gave Pirka a nudge with his elbow and pointed at Valentine with a wink, whereupon Pirka looked slyly askance at him, and arching her elbows and screwing up her mouth, said to Valentine:

"Well, well, Mr. Corporal, for all your fine airs you'll be glad enough before long to take something from me which comes through the headsman's hands."

Simplex trod on her foot to make her hold her tongue, and then they began talking together in a low voice, as if they were only haggling about the thongs.

The next moment Pirka had as completely vanished as if the earth had swallowed her up.

When the clock in the townhall tower struck eight, the bells of the Franciscan convent close by began to ring, the roll of drums was heard proceeding from the courtyard, and the sad procession appeared in the market place.

First came the magistrates, who ascended the cloth-laid steps of the dais, on the top of which the town-clerk recited the sentence aloud. Then came the guards, sword in hand, and between them the three delinquents, each of whom had a cord round his neck, the end of which was held by one of the headsman's apprentices. Last of all came the headsman, the old vihodar himself, on a white horse, dressed in a long red mantle half covering his steed; a black biretta with a red plume covered his head, and he held a naked sword in his right hand. Two of his henchmen led the horse. Behind him marched eight apprentices, who brought with them a whole arsenal of instruments of torture.

Valentine turned his head aside in order to see nothing of all this. Had he but looked, he would certainly have recognized _one_ of the headsman's assistants.

The mob saluted the robbers with a fearful howl, which they answered with hideous curses. But their filthiest imprecations were hurled at the women among the spectators, who were ready to sink into the ground for shame.

All three delinquents bore traces of torture on their bodies. They were covered with burns and sores. Yet they showed no signs of weakness. On the contrary, they greeted the old vihodar with wild laughter, and scornfully challenged him to show them of his skill.

He coolly tossed the scarlet mantle from his shoulders, and in a low voice distributed his commands to the apprentices, who were already assembled on the scaffold.

The mob set up a frightful yell at the sight of the grim, stalwart graybeard, to which he responded with a mock bow like a stage hero.

He opened the proceedings with Bajus.

Valentine had no need to stop his ears, for Bajus never uttered a sound. Not a sigh escaped him. The people all round whispered to one another in shuddering awe. The robber's cold contempt of death, and the calmness with which he endured all manner of tortures, raised him in their eyes to the rank of a hero.

In the deep stillness which prevailed, nothing was to be heard but the droning of the heavy wheel.

It was all over with Bajus.

The next in order was the haughty Hafran.

With him the bloody drama took quite another turn.

The vihodar's assistants had sufficed for the first robber. He himself had only given his directions in a low voice. But honor constrained him to cope personally with the second robber.

Hafran was a frantic devil. He howled curses at the vihodar and overwhelmed him with insults. He told him to his face that he was a clumsy bungler.

Then the old vihodar took his biretta from his head, doffed his coat, and set about accomplishing his masterpiece.

The spectators had reason to be satisfied with both performers. The old vihodar exhausted all his skill upon the robber, and the robber never ceased hurling defiance at the vihodar. They cursed and reviled each other like devils. The robber laughed at all the torments, and infuriated the vihodar by asking him derisively when he was going to begin. The vihodar was quite beside himself for rage, and excelled himself in the invention of fresh torments. Every time he produced a fresh instrument of torture, he asked the robber how the entertainment pleased him.

The Franciscan monk who was on the scaffold to afford the delinquents the last consolations of religion, tried to pacify them both, and begged them for Heaven's sake to leave off cursing; but neither paid the slightest attention to him. The robber had the last word. Even when he was so mangled and mutilated that he no longer resembled anything human, even then he howled words of scorn in the face of his tormentor. At last they plunged a hook into his side and hoisted him aloft, and even then he showered down insults upon all the women present at the bloody spectacle, till at last he gave up his unconquerable spirit, which had surely made some mistake in choosing a simple human body for its earthly dwelling-place.

The old vihodar was ashamed. He felt that this heroic resistance had very considerably impaired his prestige in the opinion of the people. This blot upon his escutcheon must be wiped off.

The third robber chieftain, Janko, still remained. He should serve to restore the honor of the vihodar.

The old vihodar proposed to do great things with him. He had the fetters removed from the feet of the delinquent, and would not even allow him to be bound to the stake.

"We will have a dance together!" said he to Janko.

That word was the death of him.

The next moment, such a yell of horror burst forth from the crowd that even Valentine's curiosity was aroused. He looked toward the scaffold, and what he saw there really was astounding.

Janko, the mighty leaper, the instant his chains were taken from his feet, had sprung upon the vihodar, pressed down his chest with his knees, and bit him in the neck exactly on the spot where the great jugular artery is. This he bit clean through, and--as if to justify the fable, that whomsoever Janko bit with his envenomed fangs was a child of death--the old vihodar fell to the ground like a log of wood, and when the apprentices sprang forward to tear the delinquent away from him, the headsman was already dead.

This incident so revolted Valentine that he reeled, and clinging tightly to Simplex, stammered: "I really believe I am going to faint."

"Hold up a little bit longer!" whispered Simplex in his ear.

As soon as the people learnt that Janko had killed the vihodar with a single bite, a fearful tumult arose.

Everyone began to applaud the delinquent and cry: "Vivat Janko," while they pelted the headsman's assistants with stinking eggs and rotten apples.

At last the blare of trumpets and the roll of kettle-drums drowned the voice of the mob, and the sheriff arose on the dais and declared that despite the unhappy accident which had befallen the old vihodar, the execution of the law's sentence must proceed notwithstanding. The young master, the son of the vihodar, was there, and he was to do his duty, and that at once.

The uproar ceased and the crowd in intense expectation looked toward the scaffold for the new performer to appear. It was plain, from the deep silence that now ensued, that the newcomer had something to say.

Valentine kept his eyes closed. He was deeply agitated. Had he not been in the ranks he would have run away.

And now, in the midst of the general silence, he heard the young master addressing the people:

"This evil-doer who has killed my father is not worthy to be put out of the world by a human hand in a human way."

Valentine listened in amazement. That voice was familiar to his ear. It seemed to him as if he had once heard it from the pulpit.

But the other proceeded:

"There is a mode of execution used in distant Abyssinia, where the black skins of evil-doers are insensible to ordinary torture. They are sewn alive in fresh buffalo hides and hung in the sun. So soon as the hide begins to dry and shrink, the evil-doers learn to sing a veritable song of hell. That is the way in which I mean to execute this delinquent."

"What's that?" cried Valentine, "whose voice is that? Who but one that has attended the lectures of the learned Professor David Fröhlich could have heard of this Abyssinian tale? Who is it?"

He looked up and recognized the man in scarlet on the scaffold.

"That is Henry Catsrider, the husband of your Michal!" cried Simplex, looking him full in the face.

To Valentine Kalondai it seemed as if everything was turning round and round. He staggered, and would have fallen if Simplex had not seized him by the arm and led him away. Nobody heeded them. During this horrible scene many others, even among the soldiers, had fallen senseless to the ground.