The Tower (standard:drama, 1537 words)
Author: Hulsey	Added: Nov 04 2002	Views/Reads: 4677/2548	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A young tailor is imprisoned in the Tower of London awaiting execution.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

"You mock me you scoundrel. Away with you cruel jailor." 

"You don't know do you? You really don't know. Were you sleeping at your
trial?" 

It was then I realised that this oaf was not lying. True, I was in a
stupor throughout the trial, and I was in a state of awe as I took in 
the grandeur of the occasion, not acknowledging the jumbled words of 
the noblemen. 

The jailor spoke. "A word of advice friend. The executioner is to visit
you in the morning. Cross his palm with silver and your death will be 
swift, otherwise..." 

"But I've no money. It was taken from me after my arrest." 

"Then your death will be slow. I've known the executioner take up to
five blows with the axe before severing the head." 

I grimaced as I listened to the gory details. "Please leave me jailor; I
wish to be alone." 

"I'm curious. What was your crime?" he asked. 

"Mead was the reason for me being here. Mead a nd the love of a woman...
I proclaimed that Lady Jane Grey was the rightful Queen and that is my 
crime... That girl should be released." 

"You haven't heard friend?" he sneered. 

"Heard what?" 

"Lady Jane was beheaded yesterday... I must admit to feeling sympathy
for the girl. She fumbled around as she was blindfolded, enquiring how 
the execution was to be carried out. I've seen many beheadings, and 
every one apart from this one was met with hearty cheers. Yesterday the 
crowd was silent. I think for you the cheers will return." 

Understandably I could not sleep that night and remained standing on my
stool, watching the beautiful night pass. I was grateful for the clear 
night, as the stars and the moon were a great comfort. My soup lay 
untouched, sitting alongside the human waste inside the chamber pot. 

Night turned to day and I glimpsed the sun appearing on the horizon,
illuminating the daunting sight of Tower Hill, the subject of so many 
horror stories I had heard. I smiled and recalled all the great people 
who had taken the walk I was about to, some of them unjustly so. 

The rattling of keys disturbed me and I turned to face a large man,
attired in a leather waistcoat, his bulging arms bare. I examined his 
weather-beaten face and expected to see evil, but was surprised by his 
friendly visage. His jet-black hair was unruly and his stare was not 
intimidating. His yellow teeth appeared with his smile and his rancid 
breath added to the pollution of my cell. 

"A good morrow to you friend. I gather you know who I am?" 

I nodded, my eyes filling with tears as I realised the time was
approaching. 

"Don't worry lad, I'm good at what I do. Have you something you want to
give me?" 

"I have nothing...  They took away all my money." 

The executioner snarled. "That I'm afraid is not the answer I was
looking for." 

"Please! Have you not an ounce of compassion in you? I'm innocent, and
if given another chance, would still stand by what I said... Lady Jane 
did not deserve to die." 

"Lady Jane did you say?" 

"Yes. I spoke up for her and that is why I'm here." 

The executioner softened. "I've lost count the number of heads I've held
aloft, but Lady Jane's I regretted. That young girl was so brave and 
did not squeal as others did. I made a clean cut as she requested... 
It's the least I could do for her... Now I must go. The sun is coming 
up and I have an audience to entertain." 

"Wait! Will my death be swift?" 

He regarded me for a moment and nodded. "Aye lad, your death will be
swift." 

I was determined to go bravely, as I was led through the jeering crowd.
There were so many, all struggling to get a better view of my death; 
most of them probably unaware who I was or what my crime was. 

I walked in time to the drumbeat, my numbed legs carried along by the
momentum. My clothes were saturated with perspiration, even though it 
was a chilly morning, and I felt my bowels loosen as I fought to retain 
my dignity. I  ascended the rickety steps and approached the hooded 
executioner who was grasping his enormous axe. 

"I hope your axe is sharp executioner." 

"My name is John and my axe is I'm afraid blunt... You see, I've been
informed of who you are." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Sarah is my daughter!" 

A blindfold was put over me and I fought for breath, trying to recite a
prayer as I was helped to my knees. Above my heavy breathing, I heard 
my name mentioned when the charges were read out to the eager audience. 
My dignity was finally lost when my bowels emptied. I fought to control 
my weeping. 

"Die like a man. Put your head on the block lad," whispered the
executioner. 

I groped for the block with my trembling hands and rested my head on it
before stretching out my hands. "Our father, who art in..." 


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