Field of Death: Part XI

"Somebody cut that poor sod down from there, now."

It was noon hour in the village of Tunney's Hill, and a group of villagers shielded their eyes as best they could to stare at the man who had given that command. He was a sergeant in the Black Watch, that much could be seen by the insignia on his tunic and the badge of rank just to its left. Still and all, who was this man to come riding in to their home? And tell them how to mete out justice? There was an uneasy silence as villagers and soldiers stared each other down.

The sergeant cursed, removing his helmet to rest it on his knee and spat on the ground. "Alright. Who was this poor bastard?"

"Eban" a voice called from the back of the crowd.

The sergeant nodded at this, watching as two of his men cut down the body. "And just what did this old man do that got him a chance to go dangling like an apple from yon tree?"

"He hung my sons!" A red-faced man shoved his way to the front of the crowd to confront the soldier. "Four boys! All dead!"

The rider sucked his teeth, shook his head. "Mighty spry of him, wasn't it? One old man hanging four younger ones?"

"He had help! His brother and his sons helped!"

"Hmm. I see! And why did they hang your sons?"

"Because they did what you fancy Camelot warriors couldn't, they hung Eban's nephew, the murderer who leaves blocks. They caught Noral in the act, carving up a whole set of those things, and they made sure he'd not strike again."

"And this was, when?"

"Two nights ago!"

The sergeant gave a pained expression. "Then either Noral is very tricky indeed, or your sons hung an innocent man, for another murder took place the very next night in Camelot town. Which, I wonder, do you think is the case here?" He stared at the villager, who seemed suddenly to shrink inward. "I suppose the next step is for poor Eban's kin to hang you now, isn't it?"

The man stammered, trying to melt back into the crowd. Two of the soldiers dismounted and kept him from getting too far as their sergeant ran a hand through curly brown hair just starting to grey at the temples. He began to speak in a voice that was not loud, but that none there had any problem in hearing. "This is the way it is. I'm Sergeant Timmons, and I'm here to stop this stupid game you..." he searched for the word--- "Tunneyites are playin'. So, I'm startin' a new game:"

"One. Nobody hangs anyone else. You do, that's murder, and you die."

"Two. Nobody even talks about hangin' someone. That's incitin' a riot, disturbin' the king's peace, accessory to murder, and just all around a pain in my arse. Do it, that's a crime, and you will go to the dungeons…where you may die."

"Three. No stonings, no canings, no whippings, no stabbings, drownings, pressings, dunkings, hackings, clubbings, buryings, or any other such like group or individual pursuits that'll end up with some poor dumb sod dead just because he is standing about with a toy block in his hand!"

"Four. Only people allowed to even SAY the word hang, are the women, and that only in relation to their wash lines."

"Five. No evil eyes! No rocks through peoples' windows, no threats written in blood on doors, no barn fires. I catch anyone out and about, up to mischief, and it's off to the dungeons… where you may die because you were too stupid to take what I say here to heart."

"This is outrageous!" Timmons shook his head, pointing at the body of Bean lying on the ground. "No sir, that is. And the deaths of your sons, and of young Noral as well. Milord Blackthorn sent me here to stop this idiocy, and I'm stopping' it RIGHT NOW!"

Some of the men muttered angrily. "You can't be serious!" yelled one. "You wouldn't dare treat us like this."

Timmons smiled sweetly, then spat on the ground once more before answering. "Care to wager on that?"