The near silent grinding of metal as the hangman pulls the handle echoes in my head, clear

over the cheers of the crowd. I am the only one who can hear it, obviously not because it is loud

but because -I helped build it and the gallows it completes -in another life.

***

"'Er ya cold Maggie? It looks like we won'be beatin da rain home."

"No ma dear Sean," layered in multiple skins and coats one might mistake her for a trapper's

trades, save for the flame red hair that could not be contained by the hood she wore. "You need

to ride a while, I can walk."

"Ya can't be walkin' in your condition," The stocky man strode beside the mare's hand on the

bridle, "You're ridin' for two now, don’t ya be forgetting it."

"How can I? Feels as though I'm stealing a pig." She says with a laugh, rubbing the mounds of

furs covering her swollen belly.

On a good day the trip from town to their farm would only take a few hours, add another in the

dark, and still another in the rain. Sean had nearly begged Maggie to leave the party earlier, to

leave the new couple to their new home. Now the sun was gone and the moon hung low in the

sky quickly becoming obscured by the building storm clouds.

Sean was half tempted to send the mare off at a gallop, Clove knew where she was going, but

that would just leave Maggie atop her until he got there to help her down. No, the only thing left

was to walk and hope the rain would hold.

Clove, the old mare, had been in the family almost as long as there had been a family. Sean

purchased her the spring after they wed. The gentle horse had carried them to and from town

many times, hauled more lumber and woodcrafts then Sean could count without his books, in all

their time together Clove had never shown a temper, never bucked or kicked.

A bolt of lightning fuses the sand in front of the cold travelers sending Clove into a panic; rearing

back, she pulls Sean off his feet while throwing Maggie to the ground. In the seconds that follow,

Clove steps on Sean's leg, his howl of pain startles her again and she runs.

"Maggie!" Sean yells over the rolling thunder as more lighting hits nearby. "Maggie?"

"Sean, the baby." She calls from her back. "It's coming now!"

"Bless me!" Sean summoned all his strength and tried to stand, his leg folded unnaturally under

him. "I cannot walk." gritting his teeth Sean crawls to his wife. "Stay calm dear, we can do this."

Under his breath he makes a prayer, "Lord, please let the three of us make it out of this, let my

child live, let it have both a mother and a father."

The cold wind turned to fire as it burned Sean's face; he had sacrificed his cloak as a blanket to

shield his wife from the punishing wind.

"I can see the head," he calls over the gale around them, all wind, the rain tarried. "Push

Maggie, push!" He can feel her bare down, and in a second, the baby is free and in his hands.

Sean's first emotion was pride, then instantly fear set in. The child, no it was a boy, Liam, his

son Liam's head hung limply his arms did not move. Tears welled in his eyes.

"Sean? Sean! What happened?" Maggie calls out.

"Maggie, it was a boy." Sean says in a near whisper.

"Give me my son!" She demands as she tries to sit upright.

"Maggie, he is dead." Sean laments.

"Sean Sloan, give me my son this instant!" She demands more forcefully.

Sean locks eyes with her, the brief battle of wills brings the tears he had been fighting, and he

hands the limp body to his wife.

"I am so sorry, my dear." He says as she takes the child into her arms.

"My boy, my little Liam." She wraps him in one of the skins that covered her.

Pulling him close, the clouds finally gave up the rain they held. The first drop seemed to fall

unnaturally splashing first on the forehead of the limp baby Liam, before rolling into his eye.

For a second the world is silent, and then the unmistakable shrill of a newborn.

"Bless us lord." Maggie calls out pulling the now kicking and screaming Liam into her cloak.

"My boy." Sean scrambles to Maggie's side to see their miracle.

***

The second click, sounds as the hangman pulls back on the lever. I wonder if he is pulling the

handle so slowly to savor my death or to extend my torment. Either could be true, his son is still

warm in the ground.

***

"Liam, our job is not to force the wood into what we need. Any fool with an axe can do that,"

Sean said between draws of his plane. "We feel the wood, we talk to it, let it tell us what it wants

to be."

"Yes father," Liam responds with a sigh. "You've told me that about once a month for years."

"Aye an' I'll continue to tell you till I see you listening."

"I listen..."

"No, you hear. There is a difference. You have," Sean stops short as the dogs outside begin to

bark. "Go,"

"Check it out, I know father." Liam drops his plane on the table and grabs his staff on his way

out the door.

A well-dressed man and two in leather armor sat on horseback.

"Greetings boy," the man in front said, "I am lord Galway. I am here to see the Chief Write. Can

you fetch him?"

"Yes sir," Liam turns to get his father, only to find him standing, leaning on his crutch at the door.

"Father this is..."

"I know who he is, and I will tell him the same thing I told all of his men who have come." He

moves from the door toward the man on horseback. "Lord Galway, I will not make your killing

machine. There are fifteen saer, in your lands; any of them could make it for you. I refuse."

"Good to know, as I have not come for that purpose, your righteous obstinateness is noted and

futile. I have more important matters to discuss."

"And that is" Sean demands.

"It seems my son has decided he needs a home of his own,"

"I suppose you wish me to oversee the building?"

"That would be excellent, and as you live so close to where the home is to be built you will not

have to leave your family. So soon" the last words tagged on like a threat.

"So soon?" Sean asks.

"Yes, he would not want your house in his front yard, no you will move."

"What?" Sean bellows as he lunges forward. "You cannot, this land was paid for."

"The land is the kings’ as I am his steward, the land is mine if I need to further his kingdom."

"Father?" Liam speaks out.

"Hold your tongue boy," Sean looks at the Lord high up on his stead. "You will pay for this."

"True," he fishes a bag of coins from his satchel. "This should be enough to compensate you for

the land, I will pay you for the work on the building when it is complete." he tosses the bag.

Sean catches it with his free hand, and then opens it. "This wouldn't even pay for the barn."

"I do not want the barn, your workshop, or that hovel, you call a house. You can keep those; I

just want the land that is more than generous for such a small piece of land. "

"I will fight this."

"If you are not happy with the arrangement perhaps another could be made... I do have other

projects..."

***

The third resounds and I am weightless...

***

It took three months to build, not because it was complicated, but because Sean and Liam

scoured the forest for the correct trees to use.

"Father, I am still confused why you do not want to build this thing. We make spears, ax

handles, and other items used to kill or fight, why is this different?"

"Because, my boy, it is only to kill. Anything can be used to take a life, a rock, water, or even

wind, but they are not created to kill. They are tools that in the wrong hands can kill. This thing

we are building is only for death; it serves no other purpose."

"I understand that, but will it not just be used as a punishment for other transgressions? It they

are bad people why not let them be killed. We have seen a beheading, and just a few years ago

we saw that Frenchman shot with arrows."

Sean walks around a tree letting his hand trail behind him on the trunk. "Both quick and clean

deaths, they had only a second to feel their life leave them. With this contraption, it could take

minutes to die, once the order is given. It's not just death son..." he pulls a spike with a red flag

on it from a bag and drives into the tree. "Its torture."

***

... I feel the pull of the earth, pulling as though it wants to swallow me whole. I try to keep my

eyes open, to see the looks in their eyes. The look of joy, as the rope burns my neck as it slips

across, tightening soon it will not matter.

***

"You cannot do this, you made a deal with my father..." Liam cries out as Lord Galway's men

drag his kicking body from the house.

"True, but as your father is now dead. I am free to do with his land as I see fit."

"He is not even buried yet, and you are pissing on his grave."

"Now listen here boy," Lord Galway looked down from his horse. "Your father was an amazing

craftsman, for that I am willing to ignore your insolent tone and let you live and leave this place,

under two conditions." He pulls a coin purse from a pocket. "Take this, and leave, never come

back to my lands, and second you leave now." He tosses the coin purse at Liam's feet.

In silence, Liam stares at the bag at his feet. He does not look up when the crackle of fire begins

to engulf the home of his father. He stands as a tree in the forest unmoving; he does not even

notice the departure of the men who guarded him. He ignored the galloping horses as lord

Galway and his men rode past him.

The setting sun was obscured by the dark overcast of clouds, still Liam stood alone in the road.

The darkness of the new moon with the cloud covered sky left the burning home as the only

light, still he did not move.

The wind picked up and a strip of the red cloth used to mark the trees blew into Liam's legs,

singed on the ends it must have blown free of the fire. Liam picked it and the coin purse up. Tied

the cloth around his waist. He looked up finally to see they had set everything to the flame; the

house, the workshop, and even the barn.

They at least let Clove out before they torched the barn; Liam thought as he walked to the aging

mare.

"Clove," in his most soothing voice he approached her. "I know you were looking forward to

easy days in the pasture, but I need you now more than ever, father needs you." Liam took her

muzzle in his hands, "Lord Galway will pay." He releases her and walks to her bare back. "The

Sloan's died here today Clove," he handles the cloth around his waist, "We leave that name

behind."

***

The rope digs deep, I relish the pain, and since my neck did not break, I get to watch the faces

-their joy twisting to disgust. I should be dead now, at least physically dead...

***

The small fire put off just enough heat that the eleven men around it were just cold; the winter

had been tough, for the honest men of Ireland. The Red band had flourished, what once was a

single man looking for personal revenge had grown to a group of twelve hardened men.

"How does he do it?" Bran, the youngest of the Band huddled under a blanket almost too near

the fire, asked nodding to the shadowy lone figure on the hill.

"He has the fires of anger and revenge to keep him warm," The hulking German mercenary

Kristof said. "The best fuel for the mission he is on."

"What happens to us if he does it, if he kills this lord Galway?" Bran asks.

"Watch your tongue there boy," Kristof hissed, "don't let him hear you call that plebe a lord."

"Why?" Bran asks.

"That's a story only he can tell." Kristof answers, "I hate to tell you the answer to that question

seems to doom those who ask him."

"How so?"

"Everyone who has asked him, everyone who he has told has ended up dying," He pauses for a

moment, "four over the last year and a half have asked the question. They are all dead, where I

have been with him from near the beginning of his quest, and I still live."

"Well I'm going to ask him and show you superstitious lot,"

"Here's your chance, but count me out." Kristof pointed to the shadowy figure who approached

the fire.

The other men seemed to shuffle back a few steps suddenly becoming occupied with bedding

down.

"Get some sleep, boys; I think tomorrow will be an easy ride."

"Sir," Bran asked, with a shaky voice. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything Bran, no secrets in the Band, just a word of warning, only ask questions you want to

know the answers to."

"It's about lor... about Galway."

"Why do I wish to kill him?"

"Yes."

The other men shifted, retreating into their bedrolls, seeking the silence within.

"The smell of fresh dew on the crop. The feel of the evening breeze as you walk back from the

barn. The taste of soup you worked all year to prepare."

"I don't understand."

"Galway has taken it all way. In this life, you only get one chance to be who you want to be,

when someone like Galway comes along, and takes away any chance of that life. You have two

options, you die or change."

"I guess you changed?" Bran asked.

"No son."

***

The edges of my vision darken; my arms and legs go numb. Somewhere behind the gasps and

murmurs of the crowds, I can hear my mother sing, I can hear my father calling me in from the

fields.

***

The wagon wheels cut deep ruts in the mud, it was heavier than even they expected. The Red

Band had watched the wagon making its circuit around the towns of Galway's lands. Watched

as the hard scrapped earnings of the people were counted, bagged and taken. All to fill

Galway's own coffers built on the land that once belonged to the Sloans.

"Bran," Liam called in a hushed whisper. "Lose the hounds." A common tactic of the band,

release dogs to startle the horse team.

From the underbrush by the road, the six large wolf hounds bound out and started barking and

biting at the lead horse.

As the driver attempted to rein them in, an arrow from the trees stills him, and he tumbles from

the bench. His guard crossbow in hand spins to return fire only to take an arrow in the neck.

The Band charges in, quickly killing the remaining four men on horseback surrounding the

wagon.

"I know there is someone in the wagon, you took one of my best a week ago." Liam shouts from

a few feet from the wagon. "I'll make a deal with you, come out peacefully and I'll let you live."

The wagon rocks a little from the inside, "How many men do you have now Stranger?" a voice

questions.

"More than enough, to set fire to the wagon and burn you out. Remember what we want does

not feel the heat the same as you." Liam threatens.

"Well that answers that, I always assumed you burned the wagons after you robbed them." The

voice from within seemed to change, "I suggest you and your lot throw down your weapons and

surrender peacefully, we will spare you."

"I think you misunderstand the situation sir." Liam calls out, before looking at the darkening hill

around them. "You are in a box and surrounded. One might say sieged."

"If you are not happy with the arrangement perhaps another could be made...," the voice

retorted.

That line, that arrogance, Liam realized who was in the wagon.

"It is an ambush, men scatter!" Liam yelled.

The wagon doors fell and bullets flew, the surprise took two of the Band down. From deeper in

the woods, a call sounds and men on horseback crash through the underbrush into the road.

Liam pulls himself onto Clove and spurs her to a gallop, the old mare gives all she has, and it is

not enough. They are quickly over taken and Clove whines as the crack of black powder ends

her days.

Liam tumbles off as she crumbles to the ground, but is on his feet in seconds.

"You will die for that!" Liam yells charging the mounted man as he draws his own pistol.

He shots, wide missing both the rider and the horse. The rider draws his sword and urges the

horse to charge Liam.

Steps apart Liam ducks to the opposite side of the horse, putting his sword against his shoulder

he cuts a deep and solid gash down the belly of the horse splitting the saddle straps. The rider

falls to the other side as the horse dies.

"Horse for a Horse, but you sir, owe me more." Liam wipes the blood from his sword, "That was

the only family I had left."

The rider hurries to his feet, scrambling to find his sword.

"Please," the man called, fumbling through the mud and blood. "I was just following orders, Lord

Galway."

"Is a pig! And, any who follow him deserve the same fate! To be slaughtered."

"My father is wealthy, he can pay you..."

Liam paused, "Who are you boy?"

"I am Duncan."

"The Butcher Duncan?" Liam asks.

"No, of the Galway's men he works in the keep, not the kitchen."

"Son, your father is the Butcher of men. He is the hangman, and one of the last names to use to

attempt to curry any sympathy from me." Liam grins.

Taking too long and quick steps Liam runs the young Duncan through.

"I'll tell your father you died standing." Liam offered pulling his blade free.

He turned to survey his surroundings and a clap of black powder and puff of smoke blackened

his vision.

***

I feel weightless again, I see only a pale light, but I am still alive.