by Amy Cross
“Darian Kinner,” Freeman replies. “A seminary priest who has been running from me for several months now, defying my every attempt to catch him. He persists in spreading his odious, treasonous word across this county, and the Devil himself ensures that there are enough fools to hide him from the King's men. I have witnesses who saw Kinner riding this way less than a week ago, and I am certain he arrived at this house and has not left.”
“No,” Henry stammers, “please -”
“Stop that!” Freeman shouts suddenly, stepping toward Jessica as she continues to sob. “Stop at once!”
“Please,” Mrs. Baxendale pleads, “she's just a child...”
“How old is she?” Freeman asks.
“She's just seven...”
“By the time I was seven,” Freeman says as he reaches Jessica, “I had already cried my last tear. I had learned to fight, and to serve in my father's workplace, and to train so that I would be able to join the King's forces.” He looks down at her. “What is your name, child?”
“Leave her alone,” I say firmly, but it's clear that like almost everyone else here, he has no idea that I even exist. I step closer, my face almost against his now. “Leave her alone!”
“I asked you,” he continues slowly, with menace in his voice as he looks past me, “what is -”
“Jessica,” Mrs. Baxendale tells him. “Her name is Jessica. Please, she's just a child, can't you find it in your heart to let her go?”
Freeman continues to stare at the girl.
“Don't you touch her,” I sneer, leaning even closer to him. “What kind of monster are you?”
For a moment, just a fraction of a second, there's a faint twitch in his expression, almost as if on some deep level he knows that I'm here.
Reaching down, I put a hand on Jessica's shoulder, and I'm shocked to realize that her whole body is shaking with fear. Hearing a spattering sound, I look at her feet and see that she's soiling herself.
“She's the child of sympathizers,” Freeman continues, turning to Jessica's mother. He pauses for a moment. “I do believe, Mrs. Baxendale, that you just interrupted me while I was speaking.”
“Stay strong,” I tell Jessica, as Freeman makes his way over to the mother and continues to goad her. “Just stay strong, I'm going to get your out of here.”
Jessica lifts her face a little and looks at me, but I can tell she has no faith that I'll be able to help. I want to tell her how I'm going to get her out of this, but right now I have no idea.
“This man's a monster,” I continue, looking over at Freeman as he barks commands to the soldiers who came with him to the house. “How can someone like that be allowed to kill people? How can the world work like this? I know it's four hundred years ago, but these are still human beings, why do they do things like this to each other?” I turn back to Jessica. “I'm going to get you out of here,” I tell her. “I don't know if I can help your parents, but I think I can help you, so when I tell you to run, you have to run as fast as you can, through the forest and toward the lake. I'll be right behind you and -”
Suddenly I see that the guards have begun to force Mrs. Baxendale down until she's on her knees, and a moment later one of them pushes her head down into a bowing position. Henry rushes forward and cries out, but another guard holds him back.
“What are they doing?” I whisper, as Freeman steps around her. A sense of pure dread is starting to fill my soul.
“This is your last chance,” Freeman sneers, adjusting his grip on his ax. “Tell me where in your house the priest is hiding.”
“There is no priest,” Henry replies. “I swear to God, man, there is no priest hiding in my house! If there were -”
Suddenly Freeman raises his ax and then swings it down toward Mrs. Baxendale's head. She flinches and tries to turn away, but I stare in horror as the blade slices through the side of her neck, spraying blood across the ground. Freeman mutters a few curse words as the woman falls back, clutching at her neck as blood flows freely. She looks like one of the animals I once saw in a video about an abattoir, desperately fighting for her life while letting out pained, almost inhuman groans. After a moment, I turn and put my arms around Jessica, trying to keep her from seeing what just happened.
“It's okay,” I whisper in her ear, holding her tight. “Don't look. Promise me you won't look! Promise me you -”
“Cowardly whore,” Freeman says over my shoulder, as I hear Mrs. Baxendale desperately gasping for air. “If she hadn't tried to pull away, I would have cut her head cleanly away. This time, I shall take her cowardice into account when I aim my blow.”
As I hold Jessica tight, one of the guards puts a hand on the girl's trembling shoulder, as if he too wants to comfort her. A moment later, I hear Freeman's ax striking the ground, and Mrs. Baxendale's sobs come to an abrupt halt. I squeeze my eyes tight shut, desperately hoping that Jessica can't see what happened, but when I open my eyes I realize that there's no way to protect her from the truth. For a moment, there's nothing but silence, and then I realize I can hear Jessica's teeth chattering with fear.
“I'm so sorry,” I whisper. “Please, I'm so sorry...”
“As God's will is made clear to me,” Freeman says finally, “so shall I enact it in this world, and slay those who would harbor enemies of the Lord and the king.”
“Try not to look,” I tell Jessica, with tears in my eyes. When I turn toward Freeman, however, I see that he's holding a severed head in his hands. I quickly turn away again, pulling Jessica tighter.
“I will ask you again, Sir,” Freeman continues, “to tell me where in your house I will find that miserable priest. I am sure his safety was not worth your wife's life, and I trust that you will not imperil your daughter the same way. Are you so cruel, that you would choose to safeguard the priest rather than looking after your daughter?”
Holding Jessica tight, I feel as if all these horrors have wiped the thoughts from my mind. I know I have to act fast, I know I have to do something, but all I can think about is the sight of that severed head in Freeman's hand. A moment later, I feel the ground shudder beneath my knees as the monster comes closer.
“Tell me, child,” Freeman says, towering over us as I continue to hold Jessica tight, “I know there is a priest hiding somewhere in your parents' house. Where can I find him?”
“Don't look,” I tell Jessica, even though I know she's staring at her mother's severed head. “Please, don't look. We're going to run, okay? When I say it's time to run, we have to run far away from here and never look back. I'll save you somehow, the history books are wrong.” Even as the words leave my mouth, they feel woefully inadequate.
“You're not like your parents,” Freeman continues, reaching down and touching Jessica's chin. After a moment, he tilts her face up, forcing her to look at him.
“Leave her alone!” I scream, getting to my feet and trying to push him away, but merely slamming harmlessly into his side and falling back. It's as if there's nothing I can do to interfere, even though for a moment it seems as if Freeman is almost about to look at me.
“You haven't been warped and twisted by the vicious lies that fill their minds,” he continues, still staring down at Jessica, “you haven't turned against God and your country. You know, deep down, that the priest hiding in your father's house is a man who must be drawn out of the shadows and dealt with.” He pauses again, as if he's waiting for her to agree. “Do you know who I am, child? I am Nykolas Freeman, and I operate on the authority of King James himself to root out any and all Catholic priests who try to spread their poison through our fair land. You're young, you probably know little of the troubles that have bewitched the country in recent years, but you must try to see things properly. Ignore everything your father has taught you, and listen instead to a man of the king. Out of the goodness of my heart, I am offering you this one, final chance”
He crouches in front of her.
“Tell me where to find the priest.”
“You're
a monster,” I sneer as he waits for Jessica to reply. “There's no god in all of creation that would want a man like you to exist.”
“No,” Freeman tells Jessica, forcing her to look into his eyes after she tries to turn toward her father, “look at me, child, not at that traitor.”
A tear rolls down her face.
“Leave her alone,” Henry stammers. “She's just a child, for God's sake!”
“A child who knows the truth,” Freeman replies. His tone has changed again, with a hint of steel now. “A child who will not reveal that truth. Perhaps the rot is too deep in her mind already.” He pauses, before leaning forward and kissing her forehead. His lips move, as if he's whispering something to himself.
“Don't touch her!” I shout, trying to push him away but once again not even managing to get him to notice me.
He gets to his feet and stands back, with his eyes fixed on Jessica. “Put her on her knees,” he says calmly, “and bow her head.”
“I -” The guard pauses. “Sir, she's just -”
“Put her on her knees,” Freeman says again, more firmly this time, “and bow her head.”
The guard shoves Jessica down, forcing her to kneel.
“This can't happen,” I stammer, feeling completely helpless. After a moment, I look up toward the night sky, and finally I do something I've never done before, something I never even did while my father was dying in hospital. “Please,” I whisper, as Henry shouts at Freeman, “if you're up there, stop this madness! Don't let him hurt her! She's just a kid!”
“I'm doing nothing,” Freeman mutters. I turn and see that he's still looking down at Jessica “You're the one, Mr. Baxendale, who would rather let your daughter suffer instead of obeying the law of the land and turning the priest over to me.”
“There is no priest here!” Henry shouts, still trying to get free.
“Run!” I tell Jessica, grabbing her arm in an attempt to drag her away. “Run right now!”
She tries to come with me, but the guard keeps her on her knees.
“Know this, child,” Freeman continues, moving the hair aside on the back of her neck. “Know that your craven father chose to protect the life of a priest over the life of his daughter, even when he knew that the game was up. Know also that he has raised you in such a way that will consign your soul to the depths of torment upon your death. I can only hope that you take solace in the fact that there are men such as myself who travel the length and breadth of this country tirelessly, rooting out evil wherever we find it, and that one day we shall triumph. One day, the cruelty and barbarity of the Catholics will finally have been vanquished from this fair land.”
“Kinner!” I scream, turning toward the house. “If you can hear me, you have to come out! He's going to hurt Jessica!”
Looking back at Freeman, I see that he already has his ax raised as he stares down at the back of Jessica's neck.
“There is no priest in my home!” Henry shouts.
“Hear that?” Freeman asks with a faint smile. “Even now, your father lies.”
“There is no priest!” Suddenly Henry manages to slip free, only for the guards to grab him and pull him back.
“We're going to run, okay?” I tell Jessica, dropping my knees next to her. I put an arm around her as her body trembles. “There's no way he'll hurt you,” I continue, looking over at Mrs. Baxendale's severed head before closing my eyes and hugging Jessica tight, even as her sobs get louder and louder. “I'm going to think of something, I'm going to work out how to get us out of here. I promise.”
She opens her eyes, and finally she looks at me.
“It's okay,” she whispers, her voice hushed so that only I can hear her. “Father says that after we die, God -”
Suddenly there's a flash of metal right in front of my eyes. I flinch and pull away, and the next thing I see is the ax blade swinging back past me with fresh blood dribbling down onto the ground. For a moment, too shocked to even react, I can only focus on the blade, before finally it moves away from my field of vision and I see Jessica's headless body slumping to the ground with blood spraying from her neck. I can hear Henry screaming nearby, but my whole body is shaking and I keep staring straight ahead, convinced that somehow none of this can be happening. Finally, I turn and see Jessica's severed head resting on the grass nearby. Her eyes are fixed on me, and after a moment she blinks a couple of times before falling still.
I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.
Nearby, Freeman is still talking, lecturing Henry about the Lord and about morality. All I can do, however, is crawl over to Jessica's head and look down at her lifeless eyes. It's as if the whole world has flinched at the sight of such horror.
I failed.
I should have found a way to save her.
Shouting “Run” a few times was never going to be enough.
I should have done more.
Finally, slowly, I turn to look over at Freeman. He's talking to Henry, but I can't even begin to focus on his words. Instead, all I can manage is to stare at Jessica's blood as it glints against the metal surface of the ax. I feel as if there's some massive force brewing in my chest, a kind of rage I've never experienced in my life before, and slowly I get to my feet as I watch Freeman barking orders to some of the other men. Nothing they say matters right now, not as I watch Freeman's foul, evil face. It's as if, finally, I've come to realize that I'm witnessing a creature of pure evil, a man who stands apart from the rest of the world and who thought nothing of murdering a sobbing little girl in cold blood. Consumed by anger, I take a step toward him, filled with the knowledge that I have to do something to stop him. I can hear voices nearby, arguing and shouting, but they're drowned out by a growing static buzz that fills the air more urgently with every step I take until finally I'm standing right next to the monster and the buzzing sound breaks.
“And then form a ring,” Freeman is saying as I'm finally able to hear him properly again, “so that we can be sure the priest does not escape.”
“And then form a ring,” Connaught shouts to the nearby workers. “Go! Get on with it!”
All around us, workmen and soldiers light torches and head up the steps into the house. Freeman has Henry dragged onto the lawn, and I keep pace with him, still trying to work out how I'm going to make him pay for what he did to Jessica.
“You're a monster,” I tell him, even though I know he probably can't hear me as he continues to give orders to the others. “You're evil. You're pure, black-hearted evil, you're like something that crawled up from the pits of hell, you're so cruel and monstrous that it's almost as if you've broken time and you're bleeding through, you're -”
Suddenly he turns and looks at me.
I freeze, telling myself that I'm wrong, but -
His eyes are fixed on mine, and after a moment his gaze narrows slightly. Nearby, flames are starting to fill the house, but all I can do is meet this monster's stare until, finally, the faintest of smiles crosses his lips.
“You're going to pay,” I whisper. “If I have to dig your corpse up myself, I'm going to make you pay, and I'm going to make sure everyone knows the truth about you.”
He continues to stare at me for a moment, before turning and making his way over to Henry. “Treason will not prosper,” he tells him. “All seminary priests shall be rooted out, and those who hide them shall face justice.”
“You don't know anything about justice,” I tell him.
His gaze flickers slightly, and he looks at me for a fraction of a second before turning and bringing his ax crashing down against the side of Henry's head, splitting the man's skull and killing him instantly. Still smiling, Freeman stares down at the bloody mess for a moment, before slowly turning to me.
“And what are you?” he asks. “Some form of witch?”
“My men went through every inch of that house,” Connaught says, standing nearby as he watches the flames grow. “If there was a priest in there -”
“He is still in th
ere,” Freeman replies, turning to him as he wipes his ax. After a moment, he glances at me again and then makes his way over to his horse. “Don't question me on such things, I have been searching for their kind this past decade, and I am never wrong. Father Darian Kinner was hiding in some greatly concealed spot, thinking that he would be able to fool me and that I would eventually ride on, leaving him to breathe again. He was wrong.”
He slips the ax into a bag and then climbs up onto the horse.
“Throw the corpses into the flames,” he continues, “and then follow me on the road to the town of Faring. I have heard tell of another priest being harbored there, by a family of five no less. Their house must be taken apart and the priest must be found, and then justice will once again be served.” He pauses, and it's clear that he's deliberately avoiding looking at me as he turns back to Connaught. “Or have you lost the taste for priest hunting? Must I find another master carpenter and question your loyalty to the cause?”
“We'll follow,” Connaught replies, although he sounds reluctant. “My men and I will be no more than two hours behind you on the road.”
“And if you hear the priest's screams from inside,” Freeman continues, “let him burn. The wretch was hiding in that house. I know this to be true.”
With that, he turns and starts riding away. I look back toward the house and watch for a moment as the flames spread, and then I turn and hurry after Freeman. He's riding at walking pace, almost as if he expects me to keep up with him, although he doesn't look back as he leads me along the dark road. Once we're away from the house and the glow of the fire, we make our way along a pitch-black and muddy road with only a few patches of moonlight showing here and there. Keeping my eyes fixed on him, I feel compelled to follow, as if I have to witness his full evil and find some way to stop him, but all I can think about is the sight of Jessica's head on the ground, with the image being replayed over and over in my mind.
And then, suddenly, Freeman brings his horse to a stop ahead of me.
Waiting for me.
I stop too, not wanting to get too close. When I hurried after him, I was filled with an overwhelming desire to make him pay for what he just did, but now I have no idea what I can do. After a moment, without turning to look at me, he reaches down and puts his hand into the bag hanging from the horse's saddle.
