Death appeared inevitable ...

I'm going to keep this short and sweet this week.  (Okay, so maybe not sweet, but definitely short.)

The prompt: Death appeared inevitable ...

Whether you choose to kill off your character or not ... Enjoy!

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My response:

Maybe I was too naïve.  All I'd ever done was try to serve my people.  It was surprising how quickly they turned against me. 

I stumbled as I crossed the platform, my hobbled feet tangling and making me lurch forward.  My hands flew up, but tied as they were, they only scraped against the weathered wood, picking up splinters, as I crashed to the ground.

Before I managed to reorient myself, a painful vice clamped around my arm and lifted me up, setting me roughly back on my feet.  Rotten vegetables splattered where I had just been, the juice spattering my skirt. It was so dirty already, the extra spots didn't make a difference.  I stumbled along, stopping beneath the noose meant for me.  The man behind me kept walking, pushing up against me.  It wasn't a mistake.  I caught the look in his eyes just before the soldier wrenched him away, towards his own noose.  A chill ran down my back.

I'd fought against the King's orders, against his demand for higher taxes, against his draft of able bodied young men to fight his wars ... and in the end, this was all I gained for it.  A noose between a murderer and a rapist.

I didn't want to lift my eyes.  I'd seen this kind of crowd before.  But I knew my place.  I had done no wrong, and I would not hang my head in shame.  I lifted my chin.

To my great relief, I didn't see anyone I recognized.  I knew quite a few of the local villagers, and they knew me.  Before me was a group of lowlifes and vagrants, their clothing ragged and torn.  They came to the execution only for the alms the Sherriff would distribute after.  Blood money.

There was no grand ceremony, no reading of sentences or last chances to repent.  The executioner just started at one end of the gallows and worked his way down.  He patiently helped the accused to stand on the tall stood, fastened the noose, kicked the stool away, and made sure they were dead before he moved on.  And now he was standing beside me.

I stepped up, careful of my dirt-caked skirts.  My head spun, a result of not having eaten in two days, but I clenched my teeth, determined to face my end with all the pride of my family.  The last remaining heir of the lands of Cavenah, and we bow only to the rightful King. 

The noose dropped over my head, and the executioner pulled it tight.  The fraying rope poked and tore my skin.  I bit my tongue and tasted blood.  One moment passed.  Two.  Then three. 

I heard the scrape of sword against scabbard behind me, then the executioner lay at my feet, his neck sliced neatly through.  Then the rope hanging above me dropped from the beam and fell down my back. 

In my ear, I heard his voice, like a song of redemption.

Today would not be my day to die.