by Mark Stewart
HALETON UN-WRAPPED himself from the net, watching the solid metal door slam shut. One of the King's guards stuck his face against the small observation hole no larger than his fist in the center of the door, looking content over the arrest. Haleton surmised the young man only recently joined the military. The arrest will be a talking point at the local pub for many nights to come.
Haleton turned from the door to study the cell. It was a rectangular shaped structure made out of hand cut bricks. At a guess, the room looked no larger than three large steps long by two large steps wide. The barren room felt cold and hostile. A sliver of daylight seeped through the only window too narrow to escape through.
"Haleton you were always the predictable one. Before you decide to lunge for my throat, let me remind you of my hidden knife. You know it's real, I've shown it to you on several occasions in an attempt to persuade you to accomplish what I want." Stepping away from the window, Crompton's grin widened. "The way I see the situation laid out before me, you have no choice. Join my gang. With my brains at the helm, we'll be unstoppable."
Haleton walked over. His tight fist hit the man's jaw.
"Enough out of you Haleton," growled an older King's guard, opening the door. "You're wanted in the next room."
The solid wooden whip the man held portrayed him to be unreasonable. He certainly didn't come across as someone who'd be interested in an idle chat.
The moment Haleton stepped out of the cell he was herded through the doorway on his right. The solid wooden door was promptly slammed shut. The guard inserted a large silver key in the lock and twisted it. Except for the small table and two chairs, the room looked identical to the one Haleton stood in moments earlier.
"Sit down," yelled a man pacing the floor.
The tall solid built man glared at Haleton. His thick black mustache growing under his nose didn't twitch when he talked.
"I want to plead my case!" exclaimed Haleton.
"I won't ask you to sit again."
"What happens if I refuse?"
"Your kidneys will feel bruised." The man behind the mustache gave a sharp nod at a second well-built man standing in the doorway.
Haleton didn't want to antagonize the situation further and sat.
"Good," replied the man. "I feel at this time I should formerly introduce myself."
"I know who you are. You're Vardum, Derrick Vardum. You live on top of the hill overlooking the sea. You have a petite wife who gave birth to a son six months ago. She almost died of a hemorrhage after giving birth to him on the last day of winter. I've heard she's doing fine now. She has regained her strength and has never looked back on those dark days. Your two lovely daughters were a great help while she recovered. One is eight; the other is six."
"You seem to know a lot about my personal affairs. This is of no consequence. I know everything about you." Vardum glared at Haleton for a long time before continuing. "You are in big trouble. Your killing days are over. The women in the villages around the countryside can now breathe easy."
"I suppose you'll be there at my hanging?"
"I never miss such an exciting moment."
"What if I were to tell you I'm innocent?"
"I find it hard to believe; you're swimming in guilt."
"Crompton was the one carrying the knife."
"I have it on good authority you were the one holding the knife."
"Your witness has led you astray."
"What you have said is not new. All insane criminals say the same thing."
"It's the truth. I followed Crompton to stop him from murdering another young lady."
"It makes no difference to me what you say. Crompton, you and your gang of thugs, will be hunted down and incarcerated for eternity. The look on your face is telling me the remainder of the gang members will never be caught. I have a dedicated man on the job. It's only a question of time before the remainder is rounded up. They will suffer the same fate as you."
"A hanging?" questioned Haleton.
"What is coming on the wind for you is far worse."
"What could be worse than a hanging?"
"You'll find out," Vardum spat.
"How long before the act takes place?" questioned Haleton.
"It will happen soon."
"Your reputation for being a tough military interrogator has gone before you. Seeing how you're here I thought torture would be on your mind?" questioned Haleton.
"Not in the equation. I came to gloat. I have waived my special privileges owed to me by the King to give you a message. A special team known as the 'Council of four' has devised a worse punishment than you could ever imagine. It will be a pleasure to rid this time zone of you and Crompton."
"What are you implying?" asked Haleton.
"Banishment to permanent exile with no hope of a pardon is devilishly clever." Vardum leaned on the table, looking Haleton in the eyes. "Chain this man. I want Haleton and Crompton dragged to the town center. Make sure the chains are good and tight. I don't want either to escape."
A six-man lynch mob hauled the wretched prisoners in chains outside, dragging them past many market stalls towards a thick pole in the main square in the exact center of the castle grounds. They were tied to a pair of identical poles and watched the crowd gathering.
Haleton and Crompton stared at the people scampering around them. When the young women who came to witness the end of their lives got too close Crompton spat at their faces.
"I will have my revenge," Crompton yelled.
"May God have mercy on these men and us for what we are about to do," yelled the priest over the ruckus made by the crowd of onlookers. He faced a military soldier. "Give the people a further ten minutes to taunt both prisoners before unlocking them from the pole and handing them over to me. I have been given special permission by the council of four to escort Haleton and Crompton to the dungeon."
CHAPTER THREE
