“You’ll stand back.” The guard waved his baton. “The prisoner is to come with us immediately.”
They proceeded to drag Henry from the cell.
“Goddammit, I demand to know where you’re taking him!” Jack flew at the guard.
“Get back!” The warder with the baton struck Bastin’s arm. He winced and staggered back.
Terror engulfed Henry as Bastin lunged at the guards a second time and the warder sent his baton crashing against Jack’s skull. His friend dropped to the floor.
“He needs a doctor!” Henry struggled to free himself, but the other guards tightened their grip and dragged him from the cell. Then the third guard stepped forward and locked the cell door, leaving Bastin lying on the filthy stone floor, a pool of blood surrounding his head and matting his dark hair.
Henry’s knees weakened beneath him again, and he stumbled forward.Dear God, Ottilie is going to lose me and her husband on the same day.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Orlando, hear our joyfulnews:
Revenge and liberty!
Your foes are dead, and we arecome
At last to set youfree.
—Anne Brontë,A Prisoner in a DungeonDeep
What is happening?Henry thought as the warders escorted him through the stone passages of the Tower.Are they taking me to the gallows? Public executions had been outlawed a year earlier, but perhaps Her Majesty was making an exception because of the public’s anger about his case. Or maybe, she thought his immediate execution, be it public or private, was an appropriate way to satisfy the people’s thirst for bloody justice.
He’d never watched an execution, but he’d heard they were gruesome. He knew what he’d suffer at the gallows—if he were lucky, his neck would break, and death would come quickly, but sometimes the incompetence of the executioner left prisoners choking slowly. His face would turn blue, his tongue would swell, and he’d suffer the indecency of soiling himself.
In the courtyard, the warders thrust Henry into an awaiting carriage where the Lieutenant Governor of the Tower and the Yeoman Goaler with his ceremonial axe sat waiting for him.
They’re here to escort me to the gallows,Henry thought. But what did that matter when Bastin lay dying in his cell? He had to get help!
“Wait!” he appealed to the Lieutenant Governor of the Tower as one of the warders was about to shut the carriage door. “Those two warders injured my friend badly with a blow to the head and locked him in my cell. He will die if he doesn’t get help.”
The Lieutenant Governor frowned. “Is this true?” He looked to the warder.
“The gentleman in question was interfering with our orders to deliver the prisoner from his cell, sir.”
“Fetch the Tower doctor and take him to the injured man immediately,” the Lieutenant Governor barked.
“Yes, sir,” the warder said and shut the carriage door.
“Thank you.” Henry breathed a sigh of relief. Then he steeled himself for what was to come.
To his surprise, the carriage rolled to a stop outside the Palace of Westminster, and he was escorted inside and back to the Royal Gallery where the courtroom had been resurrected.
What in the world is going on?He could not make sense of anything.
Relief flooded him when he saw Mr. Upwey hurrying toward him. As soon as he reached Henry’s side, Upwey began to talk. Henry found it hard to focus. He was about to die, and he didn’t know how Bastin would fare. He took a deep breath and resigned himself to his fate. The tension drained from Henry’s body, and he turned his mind to what his barrister was telling him.
“A new witness has come forward with compelling evidence,” Upwey said. “She arrived at the police station yesterday and gave a statement. I managed to secure an audience with the Lord High Steward, and upon reading her statement, he agreed for the lords to hear the new witness’s testimony today. He will then decide if it is strong enough to overturn the verdict made by his court.” Upwey clutched Henry by the shoulders. “If he does, you’ll be spared the gallows at least for the meantime.”
Henry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It all sounded too impossible. Perhaps he was dreaming.
“Oyez, Oyez, Oyez. My Lord High Steward of England, His Grace, calls for silence,” the Serjeant at Arms proclaimed.
“I must go,” Upwey said and hurried back to the bar.
