Page 2 of Dancing On Air

“Kill the murderer!” shouted someone from behind him.

The crowd started to push. The people all tried to get to the opposite end of the courtyard for some reason. Connor reached out for his younger siblings so they wouldn’t be swept away in the wake. When he looked to where the crowd headed, he spotted something across the courtyard that he hadn’t even noticed when he’d arrived. It was the raised platform that was used for executions. He saw a stump at the edge with a basket on the ground below it. A knot twisted in his gut. Why did it look like a beheading was about to happen?

“Bid the devil, what is going on?” asked Connor. “This is supposed to be a festival. Who is being executed today?” He was suddenly afraid he already knew the answer, although it made no sense to him at all.

“It’s Father,” cried Francesca. “He killed someone, Connor. He’s being called a murderer and will die for his crime.”

His siblings all started crying at once. The crowd continued to push them along with the swell of visitors over to the executioner’s block.

“Wait. Nay. This can’t be true.” Connor refused to believe it. “Father is a noble. He’s a respected knight. He wouldn’t kill anyone unless he was attacked first and did it in self-defense.”

“Your father was drunk and killed an innocent man,” snapped the nursemaid, still trying to calm the baby. “He murdered a noble and now he’ll get what he deserves.”

“Nay! You lie,” spat Connor, wanting to strangle the nursemaid for saying this. He knew his father liked to drink, but this was no reason for the woman to speak badly of him. “My father is a knight and a noble. You are a commoner and should be punished for that remark,” snapped Connor. “You don’t deserve to watch my siblings. I’ll see to it that you are relieved of your position and punished for speaking so brashly.”

“Will you, now?” hissed the woman, her eyes turning dark with anger. “Don’t bother. I may have been nursemaid to your mother, bless her soul, but she is dead and gone now. I’ve never cared much for your pompous father, and will gladly leave my position. Since your father is about to be executed anyway, I must point out I have no loyalty to you or your siblings anymore. You will all be orphans now and will have no way to pay me. Well, I don’t work for free, I’ll have you know. There are other nobles who will pay me well for my services. I’ll not be doing charity work with the likes of you and yours. Take the baby. I am tired of his infernal crying. I want nothing more to do with your family.” She pushed the baby into Connor’s arms, the infant’s wailing so loud he could barely think.

“Connor, it’s true,” said Eleanor, coming to his side. “The nursemaid doesn’t lie. Your father was so distraught by the death of your mother that he drank too much in the tavern. And when another noble spoke ill of his dead wife, your father stabbed the man to death in front of everyone. I am told it was a horrific sight.”

“God’s eyes, nay!” shouted Connor. “I don’t believe that Father would do such a thing.”

“Out of the way,” growled one of the dungeon guards, pushing people aside as he pulled a man along with him who had his hands and feet in shackles and could barely walk without tripping over the heavy chains.

“Father!” shouted Francesca, still crying like the rest of the siblings.

“What? Father?” whispered Connor, his jaw dropping when he turned to see that it was true.

“Children, don’t cry,” said Connor’s father, Sir Wensel Wyland, stopping directly in front of Connor. “Connor, you’re here,” he said in a soft voice, despair showing in his eyes. “I’m so sorry this happened. Especially on your special day when I was going to announce when you’d actually be married to Eleanor. You are doing so well with your training too. You do not deserve this.”

“Father, you’re a noble. They can’t kill you,” shouted Connor, grasping for a stich of hope, but coming up empty.

“Aye, sadly they can, Son,” said Wensel, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I was careless and let my anger control my actions. I killed a noble, it is true. Now, I will die because of it. I am so sorry, Connor. I was upset about losing Mary,” he said, speaking of his departed wife. “She fought so hard to live, but birthing the baby was too much of a toll on her body. Son, you are the eldest and in charge of the family now.”

“Nay. Don’t say that.” Connor shook his head furiously, as if by doing this he could rid himself of this horrible nightmare that was unfolding right before his eyes. “I’m going to become a knight someday, just like you. I will do it, and you will be here to see it happen. It’s true. You’ll see.”

“I believe you. But I won’t be here to see it, I’m sorry.” The chains attached to the shackles around his wrists rattled as he lifted his hands but couldn’t reach Connor. “I am proud of you, and wish things were different right now. Sadly, it is my time to leave this world forever. Take good care of your siblings,” said Wensel. “Do it for your mother.”

“Nay! They can’t kill you, Father. I won’t let them.”

“Come on, you bloody cur,” snapped the guard, giving the chains a yank. It jerked his father forward and he fell to the ground. Connor realized his father had been beaten in the dungeon. His clothes were torn and bloodied and he looked gaunt and pale.

“Eleanor, take the baby,” said Connor, pushing the newborn into the girl’s arms. “I have to help my father.”

Connor lifted his father to his feet, feeling the man’s body shaking under his grasp. Even the bravest of knights wasn’t impervious to the executioner’s blade. Connor couldn’t even imagine what his father was feeling right now. The guard pulled him away.

“Papa,” yelled Francesca, starting to run after him, but Connor reached out and grabbed her by the arm to stop her.

“Hold tightly to Leoric and Ginevra,” he told his sister. “Stay by Eleanor. Eleanor, please take them away from here so they don’t have to watch this.”

“Come with me,” said Eleanor, holding the baby and reaching out for the other children with her free hand. “We’ll wait in the stable for Connor to return.”

“Connor,” said his father, looking back over his shoulder into Connor’s eyes. Reflecting back at Connor was fear and despair and total devastation. “There is nothing you can do to save me. Please promise me you’ll take good care of your siblings, that’s all I ask.”

“You know I will,” said Connor, struggling to hold back the tears as he followed on his father’s heels. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw the executioner climbing the platform with his huge, sharp sword in his hand. The messenger of death wore a long, black cloak with a hood covering his head.

“Don’t leave us, Father,” begged Connor, even though he knew it made no difference what he said. There was nothing anyone could do to stop the horrific action that was about to take place. “First Mother, and now you? We’ll be orphans.”

His father stopped in his tracks. “Nay, I don’t want my children to end up as orphans.” Then he was yanked away once again and had to take small, quick steps since the shackles and chains that bound him kept him from any big movements. He looked over his shoulder at Connor and it was then that Connor accepted the fact his father would be beheaded right in front of him. The thought terrified him and he found himself not even able to move. He prayed to God to save his father. He wished for a way to stop this from ever happening.