Page 74 of The Condemned (Echoes from the Past #6)

John’s head shot up, his eyes pleading for mercy, but the governor had already turned his attention to Travesty.

“Mistress Brown, as a reward for your diligence and selflessness in bringing this matter to our attention, your indenture contract is now fulfilled. You are a free woman. You may remain at the Forrester plantation until you make arrangements for your future.”

Travesty smiled happily. “Thank you, sir. I’m overcome by your generosity.”

Numb with shock, Mary watched as John and Simon were removed from the church, Simon to be put in stocks, and John to be hanged. The soldier who’d helped her took her by the arm.

“Come. Back to the shed with you,” he said, not unkindly. He escorted Mary down the nave and toward the door .

Travesty was already outside, surrounded by several men who were congratulating her on her good fortune and doing their hardest to ignite a spark of interest. Until the next shipload of women arrived, Travesty was the only marriageable woman in Jamestown, and she was already in high demand.

She would receive several offers of marriage by the time John breathed his last.

You sly witch , Mary thought as she glared at the woman.

Travesty had waited for the perfect moment to betray them, and now she would benefit handsomely from her cunning.

John shook with fear as two soldiers seized him by the arms and dragged him toward the gate, where one of the marshal’s men was already fashioning a noose.

He tossed the rope over the crossbar and it hung there, swinging like a pendulum in the spring breeze.

“No, please,” John begged as Governor Yeardley approached the place of his execution, but the governor ignored him.

Mary hoped she’d be spared the horror, but Marshal Craddock called out to the soldier who was about to lock her in the shed. “Bring her here. Faraday too.”

The soldier turned her around and gave her a gentle shove toward the gate. “Looks like they’re not through with you yet, mistress,” he said softly.

A crowd had already gathered by the gate, men elbowing each other out of the way, eager to get an unobstructed view of the proceedings.

Travesty stood at the edge of the crowd, flanked by several men, her eyes fixed on the noose, her mouth partly open.

There was an odd look in her eyes, part satisfaction, part horror at what she’d done.

She noticed Mary’s hard stare and turned away.

Simon was brought to stand next to Mary.

His breathing was shallow, and he looked pale and sick.

Mary turned to him, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

In truth, she didn’t blame Simon. Had he not accused John of coercing him, he’d have ended up swinging next to him.

Mary briefly wondered what would happen to him once he was released from the stocks.

Reverend Edison approached John and invited him to pray.

John’s lips moved silently as beads of sweat appeared on his brow.

He looked terrified, and Mary felt searing pity for him as his eyes darted from Governor Yeardley to Secretary Hunt.

John probably still hoped for a reprieve, an eleventh-hour miracle, but it wouldn’t come.

There wasn’t a single sympathetic face in the crowd.

Everyone seemed to be waiting with bated breath, excited by the day’s entertainment.

The noose was pushed over John’s neck, and he blanched with fear.

“John Forrester, do you have any last words?” Reverend Edison asked him.

John stared out over the crowd until his gaze alighted on Mary. “I’m sorry, Mary,” he muttered. “I’m sorry for what I’ve brought you to.”

Mary nodded. She couldn’t speak. Her throat felt swollen shut, and her hands trembled with shock.

She wanted to shut her eyes when the marshal gave the order to pull the rope but couldn’t look away.

A cry of satisfaction went up from the crowd as John’s feet left the ground and he kicked his legs as the air to his lungs was cut off.

His eyes bulged and a grotesque expression came over his face as he began to slowly suffocate.

A stain appeared on the front of his breeches.

“He’ll soil himself next,” someone said, his voice quivering with excitement. He was right.

Had John had devoted friends, they might have pulled on his legs to break his neck and end his suffering, but no one came near him. His death throes went on for some time, but no one budged. Everyone stood by and watched, their eyes glued to the dying man.

“Serves him right,” someone finally said once John’s body went limp .

“It’s been some time since I’ve seen someone doing the Deadman’s jig,” another person said with a snigger. “This one took a while.” There was no sympathy in his voice, only satisfaction at having enjoyed a good show.

Mary cried softly as the soldier gripped her arm. “Come,” he said.

“Will they cut him down?” Mary asked.

“Not likely. They’ll leave him to hang for a while. Always a good deterrent for anyone who’s planning on stepping out of line.”

“That’s barbarous,” Mary replied.

“So is buggering a man,” the soldier replied with feeling. “He got what was coming to him, and make no mistake.” He opened the door of the shed and pushed her inside.

“Wait,” Faith cried as she ran toward the shed, a bundle in her arms. “Here. Take this, Mary.”

“God bless you, Faith,” Mary said as she accepted the food and a blanket. “I won’t forget your kindness.”

Once she was locked in, Mary wrapped herself in the blanket and sank to the ground.

The shed was drafty and dark, the only light coming through the gaps between the boards, which also let in the cold.

She fixed her gaze on a whorl in the wood, staring at it until her eyes watered.

She simply couldn’t bear to think of what had taken place this day, nor could she allow herself to dwell on what would happen to her and her child.

If she did, she’d go mad. Mary huddled against the wall, rested her head on her bent knees, and closed her eyes. Eventually, sleep overcame her.