The Gallows Murders

heart fluttering and my wits racing. After that they brought a tub of grease, rancid and foul-smelling. I was daubed with this from head to toe. A pair of roughly fashioned sandals were thrust on my feet and I was covered from head to toe with deer-skin. I tried to make a run for it but they caught and held me fast, tying my ankles and wrists together. At last they were finished and stood back, admiring their handiwork.
    'One of the strangest beasts I have ever seen,' a huntsman remarked.
    'I wonder,' one of them commented, ‘how long it will be able to run for? Mind you-' he came closer and dabbed some more grease on my face – We can always mount his head beside a boar's!' The joking stopped as a massive figure swept through a doorway and strode across the cobbles. It was the Great Beast himself) dressed in his Robin Hood garb, lincoln green, with a silly bonnet which had a white swan's feather clasped to it on his head. He came closer and peered at me. 'Master Shallot, you should hang for what you said!' 'Some of us hang, some of us don't,' I replied cheerfully.
    The King spread his lips in a grimace but the fury boiled in bis eyes.
    Today we hunt: not the deer or the boar, but those who should know their place and keep a still tongue in their head. Open your mouth, Master Shallot.'
    I did so and the King poked his gloved fingers in and seized my tongue. He dragged it out and pulled me closer.
    ‘When a deer is brought down,' he hissed, 'it's the prince's privilege to cut the tongue. Remember that, Shallot.'
    I did what I always do when the fat Beast threatened me. I farted, loud and clear, like a bell tolling across the square, a long, fruitful blast of protest. The huntsmen sniggered. Henry snapped his fingers. 'Bring out the dogs!'
    Two verderers went behind the high palings and brought out two of the great beasts I had seen in the chapel the night before. I thought they might recognise me, so I forced a smile, but the evil-looking bastards just growled, their forelips coming back to display white, snarling teeth.
    'Let me introduce Death and Pestilence,' Henry taunted. They are also figures in the Apocalypse, Master Shallot. They are German hunting dogs, the best in the field.' He crouched down and stroked both of them. 'Once they sniff you and have your scent, they'll pursue you to the rim of the world. When the hunt begins you will start running. You can run for your life and these dogs will pursue you! Climb a tree and they'll sit at the bottom! Take off those deer-skins and the’ll still follow the grease on your body. Jump into a river and try washing it off: impossible. By the time you do, they will have caught you and pulled you down!' ‘What chance do I have?'
    'Very little,' the Beast replied. "But if you can come back here to this stable, dressed within those skins, you will win your life and a purse of gold.' The cruel bastard wagged a finger in front of my face. 'You are not to take those skins off nor seize a horse, nor attempt to ride in any cart.'
    My heart sank. Of course, as the Great Beast had been talking, I had been pondering all the possibilities. The easiest would have been to lurk by some trackway and steal a mount. Henry's words dashed these hopes, as did his warning that I could not remove the skins. After all, it would have been pleasant to put them on some wandering friar and scuttle back to Windsor whilst some fat priest raced for his life. Instead I had to stand and shiver as the sun began to rise. Henry and his select band of courtiers, the usual gang of sycophants, saddled and horsed, drinking their cups of hot posset. They looked me up and down as if I was some prize buck or barnyard fox.
    At last the bastards were ready. Two mounted huntsmen put a cloth sack over my head and, holding me between then, left the castle, skirted the small town and took me into a wide, sweeping meadow still wet with the morning dew. At the far end of this stood the edged of the great forest where Henry loved to hunt.
    'Run for your life, Master Shallot.' One of the verderers pulled the sacking from my head and pointed towards it. The King has agreed to give you an hour's start. You'll hear the horn and the baying of the dogs.'
    I looked at the man's companion: he was one of those evil, narrow-eyed caitiffs. I glanced up at the huntsman and saw kindness in the rugged, sunburnt face.
    "What can I do?' I whispered. This is against the law and all usages.'.
    The fellow shook his head. "You are not