The Executioner, Page 2

you'll remember this one, once you see her! I've just comefrom watching her being dressed for Court!" The Bailiff's bloodshotright eye winked suggestively. "My duty, y'know, to protect theirJudicial Highnesses by checking for concealed weapons."

  "Get out of here!"

  The Bailiff fell back a step, but continued talking.

  "I'd say she's your type all right--full of fire! Too bad you have tokill her instead of...."

  Jacques ripped the white tunic from his squire's trembling hands andhurled it into the Bailiff's face. Guy de Archambault waddled back outof danger, then finding that he was not followed, poked his head aroundthe edge of the door.

  "Prithee, Sir Jacques, have ye any message for their JudicialHighnesses?"

  "Yes, damn you! Tell them to get someone else for this infernalexecution--and be quick about it!"

  With a gleeful chuckle, the Bailiff disappeared again. The little squirepicked up the white tunic and brushed it off dejectedly. If he missedthis opportunity to serve as squire to the Lord High Executioner, hisname would rotate to the bottom of the list and he might not have achance to serve again before it was time to make up new lists.

  Jacques strode to the window. Lady Ann of Coberly. The name could meananything or nothing, according to the whimsy of the lower courts. LadyAnn.... Ann! But it couldn't be her--Or could it? Jacques looked fardown the years to a youngster just out of training, eager to provehimself in the execution arena. There had been an Ann then, and she hadleft one morning taking a young man's heart with her, leaving behindonly the unfathomable look of reproach and disappointment that he hadcome since to know so well.

  But it couldn't be that Ann! He tried to create the image of her face,but saw only the acres of spectator tents, their bright pennantssnapping in the wind, and the open squares teeming with spectacularcostumes copied from medieval history books by an atomic age whichfound in the pageantry of execution-day its one escape from safe,sanitized, prescribed living. The Arthurian song of a strolling minstreldrifted up to him....

  "To the fairest of all maidens,

  To Argante, the Queen, most beauteous elf,

  She will make my wounds all sound,

  And with a healing draught make me full well...."

  Jacques clenched his great fists. No, he wouldn't do it. Seniorityentitled him to some consideration. If necessary, he'd put a callthrough to the Bureau. They'd understand. His record was good. He'dalways performed faithfully, meeting death every session, dealing it outto young and old alike.

  But not to a woman; certainly not to a woman who might have meant agreat deal to him! During the long spartan years of his training, theisolated years of monastic living at a time when youth burned strongestin him, the image of woman had become a haunting dream, unreal as themoonlight streaming through his curtainless window, untouchable as themist of a summer morning. A sense of that image and unreality stillpersisted, even after all the women who had come to him so willingly andhad left with that undefinable look of unhappiness deep in their eyes.

  Since that woman back in the Fifth District, he'd been lucky with hisexecutions. Not too many women drew the death penalty, and the few timeswomen had been on his docket he had learned of it sufficiently inadvance to pretend illness or make up some plausible excuse foremergency leave. But today had taken him totally by surprise.

  The squire shuffled up behind him, and begged,

  "Please, your Lordship, shall we not don these garments now?"

  Jacques shook his head so impatiently that the squire scurried back infright.

  And then the Bailiff's voice intoned sonorously from the doorway:

  "His Highness, Chief Justice of the Seventh Judicial District!"

  Jacques turned in time to see the Bailiff bow low. The Chief Justiceentered with a swish of ceremonial robes. He was followed by a tall,thin man, dressed in knightly costume. The Bailiff made a second bow,and spoke again:

  "His Excellency, Sir Mallory, representing the Federal Bureau ofInternal Tranquility!"

  Jacques felt suddenly relieved. It was good to have someone from his ownBureau here. These judges were too cold, too impersonal.

  The Chief Justice was carrying his wig, which was not yet fullypowdered. His heavy jowls quivered with indignation.

  "What's this nonsense, Sir Jacques?" he demanded imperiously. "Court isready to convene--We have no time to get another executioner!"

  "I'm sorry, your Highness, but I must ask your indulgence this onetime."

  "Impossible!"

  Sir Mallory stepped forward and smiled in a conciliatory manner.

  "Perhaps Sir Jacques does not understand all the circumstances," he saidsoothingly. "You see, Sir Jacques, this execution is very important toFBIT. There hasn't been a first-rate execution in nearly three years,and this is the only release we've had to offer the public in all thattime. Of course, the Court still must decide in its own wisdom whetherthere are any grounds for setting aside the verdict, but we would notwant any of our Bureau personnel to be responsible for disappointing thepublic."

  "I've always done my duty," Jacques protested. "But this one time--"

  "The FBIT is well aware of your splendid record," Sir Malloryinterrupted, striking a hearty note of sincerity. "Your services havebeen deeply appreciated in these difficult times. Yet, we must alwaystake the long view! Particularly 'this one time', as you say. Technologyhas rushed us into a world without need for strife or conflict, but manhas not yet matured enough for such a world--and he needs release toprevent dangerous explosions. Believe me, Sir Jacques, it would not bewise to postpone today's execution!"

  The Chief Justice cleared his throat angrily.

  "And it's not wise to stand here talking while my court is waiting toconvene," he snapped "Sir Mallory, can't you remind this man of hisoath, his duty, and be done with it?"

  Jacques felt his own anger rising.

  "I know my oath," he growled, "but--"

  "Of course, of course," murmured Sir Mallory, "and the FBIT shares yourfeelings. We also deplore--naturally--the idle gossip that iscirculating to build such interest in this execution. But circumstancesare beyond our control, Sir Jacques. As public servants, we mustserve...."

  The Chief Justice shook his wig in Jacques' face.

  "Your answer, man!" he demanded. "Are you or are you not going toperform your duty?"

  Sir Mallory stepped back, spreading out his hands as if to show Jacquesthere was nothing more he could do about it.

  Jacques stood tautly erect, impassive, while his mind reeled on ahairline balance between defiance and submission. He knew that more thanthis one issue would be decided by his next words. His entireprofessional life was involved, everything he had trained and fought forsince he had been selected for the service at the age of thirteen. Awrong word, and he could be dismissed by the Bureau. The rest of hisyears would be spent in a cubicle in some atom-powered plant, where he'dhave his own button to push for two hours every day. The monotony wouldbe intolerable after the way he had lived!

  But to send his bullets smashing into the body of a woman who might beAnn.... Sweat trickled down the chiseled furrows of his cheeks. Besidehim, the little squire was a study in still life, poised with one footforward, the white tunic still draped on his outstretched arm.

  "Sir Jacques, we are waiting for your reply," prompted the cold voice ofthe Chief Justice.

  A turbulent voice within Jacques urged him to turn his back on all ofthem, but prudence counseled that he play for time. From Sir Mallory'soily manner, he could very well have made up and circulated the gossipabout his supposed past relationship with this condemned woman. It mightbe wise to wait a bit before making a decision that could be so final.

  Jacques bowed, and said hoarsely.

  "I await the orders of the Court, Your Highness."

  If the Chief Justice noted that Jacques said "await" instead of the morecorrect "will obey", he gave no sign of it.

  "Very well," he said. "Court will convene in five minutes." He turned soabruptly t
hat he almost bumped into the Bailiff, who was making a pooreffort to cover his disappointment.

  Sir Mallory smiled at Jacques, and said warmly:

  "The FBIT is proud of you!"

  When they had left the room, the still frightened squire stuttered:

  "S-shall we d-dress, Sire?"

  Jacques walked without answering to the couch and sat down on the edgeof it.

  "Get a move on!" he ordered. His feelings were in turmoil: He wasdesperately eager to see this Lady Ann, yet he dreaded the moment. Ifthis was the Ann....

  Fingers trembling, the squire anointed each muscular shoulder with threedrops of perfumed oil, after which he drew over Jacques' head and upperbody the white tunic--white to