Mary Reed - Eight for Eternity

“Indeed. Continue with your account.”

“Oh…yes….” Kosmas lifted a hand nervously, and John thought he intended to touch his neck in recollected sympathy with the condemned men, but instead he rubbed the shoulder that was lower than the other. “I apologize, excellency. It is a strange thing. I tend not to recall executions. I think it is a blessing the Lord has granted me.”

Was that true or a convenient excuse, John wondered. “Tell me as much as you can, Kosmas.”

“The first hanging succeeded. I’m not sure what faction he belonged to, but that left a Blue and a Green. Both factions, you see. The emperor wished to show even handed justice. Or so I was told. We had managed to erect two gallows on the platform and cut a pair of openings in the planks. The prisoners arrived before we could complete the trapdoors, though, so I had to push the men into the openings.” Kosmas shook his head. “I hope never to have to do that again. It feels too much like murder. There are accepted procedures. That isn’t one of them.”

“You gave both men a shove before you realized anything had gone wrong?”

“That’s right. I wasn’t looking toward the ground. The first I knew about the mishap was when I heard the spectators’ reaction. There are always a few screams from gawkers who expected death to be prettier, but this time it was an uproar.”

“Is it true that both ropes broke? Not once but twice?”

“Yes. The fibers partially tore and stretched. Both men ended up on the ground, half strangled and dazed. But not so dazed that they didn’t understand what was happening when the guards carted them back up to the platform.”

“Did you recognize either of the men?”

“No. I have seldom needed to execute a man I know, thank the Lord.”

“You were alone on the platform, aside from the guards?”

Kosmas nodded.

“So it was a defect in the ropes which saved the men’s lives?”

“It was definitely the ropes. Everything else was in order. The gallows were strong enough. The height of the platform was correct. Neither man had an abnormal physique. Sometimes I need to make special adjustments. A man as lean as you would need to fall further than most, if you’ll excuse my saying so.”

“A longer journey but without any better destination. Didn’t you notice the ropes were unsuitable before you used them?”

“Of course. But there was no time to find anything better. Even a poor rope is almost always good enough.”

“Could they have been cut part way through?”

Panic flickered across Kosmas’ features. “You don’t think I had anything-”

“Where did they come from?”

“I’m not sure. Some men from the Prefect’s office, or maybe men hired by him, delivered everything we needed. All the construction material, the axes and ropes. I don’t supply the rope, excellency.”

“Would you have noticed if the rope had been cut?”

“I should think so. I inspect them, to make certain they’re strong enough.”

“Are you positive no one else had access to the ropes after they came into your possession?”

“Yes. I took charge of all the equipment at once. The ropes were simply rotten, excellency. No more than that. The second set was as bad as the first. I directed a couple of workmen to attach new ropes to the gallows while the Blue and the Green lay on the platform, crying for mercy. Or so it seemed. Their throats were too swollen for them to speak comprehensibly. They couldn’t stand. The guards had to haul them to their feet to let me loop the nooses around their necks. I never want to witness such a thing again. One of the guards found it all amusing. He asked why the condemned were whimpering since they’d already been hung once and it hadn’t been so bad. I only recalled that just now.” Kosmas shook his head. “As I adjusted the nooses I whispered a few words of comfort. Christ is with you, I told them. You may not see Him, but soon you will. The guards had to shove them forward, to their deaths, except, as you know, the ropes failed a second time. This time, just as the men were about to be dragged back up on the platform, monks from Saint Conon’s monastery appeared and claimed them. Because clearly they had been spared by the Lord, the monks said.”

“What do you think?”

“None of us can know the ways of the Lord. Maybe it was a miracle. If I was a gambling man I would have wagered against two hangings both failing twice.”

John thought that more than a few disgruntled Christians might consider it a divine comment on Justinian’s justice. “No one tried to stop the monks from rescuing the condemned men? How did they manage to reach the scaffold?”

“The crowd was getting unruly. People had pushed their way forward. There was some confusion.”

“So much confusion that the guards couldn’t do their job?”

“Guards are Christians too, excellency. They were not sent to slaughter monks.”

“Do you suppose someone could have been bribed to insure that the execution went wrong?”

“In this city, bribery is always a possibility. We hung the first man without incident.”

“Why didn’t you use his rope to hang the other two? His didn’t break.”

“I admit, it never occurred to me, with all the commotion. I suggest you talk to Rusticus the physician. He may have noticed something I have forgotten. He examined the ropes after they broke, too. He’s old-some say decrepit-but then he’s the Prefect’s uncle. He was there to certify the men as dead. There have been cases of men who were hung, who appeared dead to casual observers, but when examined an hour later were still alive.”

“That must be even rarer than ropes breaking.”

“That is so, excellency, but I speak from personal knowledge. As a child I was playing in the stables. I liked to crawl around the rafters and dive into piles of hay. I got tangled up with some reins that were dangling from the rafters on a hook. I don’t know how long I hung there. When my father found me I was nearly dead. Luckily, I hadn’t got myself suspended entirely by my neck. I broke my shoulder too, as you can see. I’m told they got me breathing again by dosing me with vinegar and mustard seed. It’s been said that those who survive near strangulation often have strange visions. They have set one foot over the threshold to Heaven, you see. But I’ve never had that benefit, only pain in my shoulder.”

John couldn’t help thinking that each time Kosmas picked up a cup of wine, or reached down to pat the head of one of his children, whenever the weather turned damp, every time the shoulder pained him, he would be reminded of his own hanging. He asked a few more questions, until he was satisfied the executioner had told him everything he remembered, or everything he was going to reveal.

As he stepped out into the hall there was a shriek. The two boys barreled out of the room to which they had been banished and started rolling around by their father’s legs. Both had belts fastened around their necks.

John closed the door.

As John approached the Hippodrome on his way back to the palace he pondered what to do next. Should he walk up the Mese to the Praetorium in case Urban Prefect Eudaemon had returned? Or should he, after all, risk revealing his investigation to the charioteer Porphyrius who might also be able to tell him who the dead men were?

The towering wall of the stadium which dominated this part of the city had been visible to him above the roof tops and through gaps in the buildings for a long time as he came down the side street. When he arrived at the Mese he saw people clustered near the Hippodrome’s entrance. There were a number of faction members, judging by the elaborate clothes and hair styles, but also a few young men who had the look of charioteers or soldiers, along with a handful of clerks.