Innocent

A loud urgent knock sounded at the door of his small cottage by the rushing river’s edge. The pounding echoed through the quaint living room and ricocheted around the simple kitchen before finally reaching the dark doorway of the bedroom. A figure shifted in the shadows rustling the sheets as it moved from the bed.

“Gideon, it that Charles?” Her voice trembled. “By the gods, could he have discovered us?”

“No, Joanna, he would not have knocked.”

“Open this door!” A forceful shout accompanied the pounding. “By order of the king’s guard, open up!”

“Joanna, dress quickly and leave through the back.” He spoke calm, but urgent. “Follow the field all the way home without looking back.”

“I will not leave you.” She threw herself into the man’s strong arms. Her long blonde hair drifted over his arm as he held her close to his chest.

“You must return home.” He pushed her back from his grasp. His tall muscular frame towered over the petite build on the woman. “Go, now, and know that no one will ever learn our secret.”

“I love you, Gideon.” Tears were stinging at her eyes.

“Go, Joanna.”

She did not bother putting her gown back on over her chemise to leave the cottage, she just wadded up the material and shoved it into her canvass bag. A tear slid down her cheek as she glanced back at Gideon preparing to open the door. Turning the handle on the back door, Joanna cast a quick glance around the field to make sure no one saw her flight. Sprinting between the rows of corn, each foot-fall was one step closer to her home.

“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” Gideon pulled open the wooden door and stood before a small group of armed guards.

“The bailiff has requested your presence.” A gruff voice came from beneath the metal helmet. “You are to come with us immediately.”

“I wish to grab my cloak.” Keeping himself calm was the key to a quick meeting.

“Be fast.” The man growled at the fact that he was going to kept waiting for a criminal.

Gideon disappeared into the shadows of his bedroom and made a quick glance through the window to make sure Joanna was gone. Grabbing his dark brown cloak from the short writing desk by the window, he returned to the guards fastening the ties around his neck. He obediently followed the men as they marched him—two in front, two in back, and one on each side—to the bailiff’s office.

The gravel road was muddy and holed from the pounding rain which had fallen the night before. Slops and splashed were made by the dampened leather boots of the men as they march their prisoner to the bailiff for questioning. Gideon held his questions as he was forced to nearly run to keep up with the pace of the men. He and the bailiff had been friends for several years, and he knew Argure would answer any questions he had to ask.

He also knew the man would expect complete honesty in return for acquitting him of what ever it was he had been accused. This was one time he would not be able to keep his code of honesty. For Joanna’s sake, Gideon knew he would have to be vague in order to protect her from the wrath of her husband and the law. In the village of Cerrimoore, adultery held the punishment of death.

“In there.” The gruff man threw his finger toward the door to Bailiff Argure’s office. “He is expecting you.”

A nod of respect was all Gideon offered to the men as he passed between them and approached the door. The hinges creaked loudly as the door pulled open. Inside, an aging man with salty hair sat paging through parchment at a large oak desk. Two candles burned on the corner of the desk providing just enough light to read in the windowless room.

“Come in, Gideon.” A stern tone was all he gave to an old friend. “Sit down.”

“Bailiff Argure.” He bowed his head as he sat in the wooden chair facing the man. He noticed another man sitting in the corner. “Magistrate Perry.” He bowed again before turning back to his friend. “Why was my presence requested?” If Argure asked anything about Joanna, Gideon would have to be prepared to lie.

“There was a robbery in the village last night, Gideon.” Bailiff Argure peered at the dark haired man over his wire-rimmed spectacles. “Your engraved pistol was found at the bakery in the broken glass.”

“I will accept the robbery charge and pay my fines.” His head was held admirably to accept the charge. It was the first thing he could think of to take the attention from himself and save Joanna.

“It is not that simple.” The elderly man stood from his desk and paced to window. “The shopkeeper was killed.”

“Killed?” His words were almost more of a statement than a question.

“Gideon, please, you must have an alibi for where you were that night.” Argure knew the man he was looking at was innocent, but there had to be hard evidence to support it before a pardon could be requested. “You are not the type of man who could rob and murder an innocent man. I swear to you, you will go free if you can tell me where you really were.”

“I was nowhere.” Her protection was all that mattered to him. “I have no alibi for that night.”

“If you refuse to help yourself, Gideon, I cannot keep you from a harsh fate. You will get prison at least—maybe even the noose. I can make no promises.”

“I will accept my fate as an innocent man.” Gideon was too proud to go back on a promise.

“Magistrate Perry, there must be something we can do.” Argure was growing more desperate to save the life of his dear friend.

“Without an alibi, there will be no trial as he will be assumed guilty.” Adjusting the boxy hat of office on his head, he gave no leeway for a good answer. “The penalty will be death by beheading.”

“Are you ready to take such a judgment, Gideon?” Scolding was all the bailiff could manage. “Make up an alibi and I will pay to have it validated. Absolutely anything.” Urgency cloaked the man’s tone as he tried to plead with him. “Gideon, you are too good a man to sacrifice yourself for the secret you are hiding.”

“I am an innocent man, Argure.” It was the only truth he could offer. “I did not commit the robbery nor did I murder that man.”

“Then why will you not confess where you were that night?” Argure began to wonder if the man had lost his sanity. “Save yourself, Gideon.”

“I will not jeopardize the life of another to save my own.” He knew he was condemning himself to death by staying silent. To him, Joanna was worth his very life.

-

Lying down in her own bed, Joanna could do nothing more than cry. It was all she had managed to do for the entire day since she had escaped from Gideon’s cottage and returned home to her own empty of her husband. She did not even pay mind to where Charles might have gone as he was always at the tavern. Her concern lay with Gideon. Burying her face into the down pillow, she allowed herself to weep once more before trying to sleep.

“Joanna!” The mumbled shout barreled through the cottage doorway with the tall lanky shape of a man. “Joanna, where are you?”

Slurred words and jumbled ramblings were soon accompanied by subtle thuds and loud crashes as Charles fumbled through the cupboards. Stirring from her mild state of slumber, Joanna stretched her muscles and moved from beneath the blankets on the bed. Hearing the commotion radiating out of the kitchen, she stepped into the doorway to see who had come into her home.

“Charles, where have you been?” When the familiar figure came into view, the harsh burning scent of whiskey filled her nostrils. She stifled a cough as the familiar sight of her intoxicated husband brought her attention to his search. “Sit down at the table, Charles, and I will ladle you some stew.”

Pushing himself down into the wooden chair, his head dropped onto an arm flopped across the tabletop. Joanna tread slowly to the large metal pot hanging over the dimming fire. Lifting a bowl and ladle out of the cupboard, she did as obedient wives should and served her husband. Booming garbled laughter poured from his mouth as she placed the bowl and a spoon down on the table before him.

“I am an evil man.” His bony fingers clamped around her wrist and pulled her onto his lap. The other hand that had been drooped by his side crept up her leg inching along the thin cotton of her nightdress. “Perfect fit for an evil woman.”

“Charles, please.” She made an attempt the leave his grasp, but his fingers dug into her thigh. She winced in pain. “Charles, you are hurting me.”

“I will do much worse to you woman.” The hand from her wrist loosened and moved quickly violently grasping at her breast. Fear flushed over her as she tried to grab hold of his arm and free herself. “You know you enjoy being touched, whore.” A darkly garbled voice came from his throat as his emotionless eyes set on her body.

“You are drunk, Charles.” Joanna fought against her instinct to fight and tried to remain calm enough to reason with her husband. “You should sleep.”

“Sleep.” He muttered the word to himself. “Yes, sleep would do me good.”

Standing quickly from the chair, Charles nearly knocked the woman to the floor. He raked a hand through his light brown shaggy mane and grabbed her wrist. Joanna followed his obedient and silent hoping he would lay down and sleep instantly instead of striking her as he often did in a stupor.

“Your lover has been arrested for murder.” He grumbled aimless words meant for her ears. An anger stirred deep within his belly churning with the alcohol he had consumed at the tavern that morning. “To think I called him my friend.”

“Charles, you are confusing stories with truth—“

“I am speaking truth, woman!” The force of his words stopped her movements in the doorway. He slapped her face. “I murdered the bakery man with Gideon’s pistol.” Evil laughter tumbled slowly out of his mouth. “He will hang for it.”

“Why would you do such—“

“Whore!” The thunderous shout rang out above the silence of the night as Joanna was instantly thrown down hard onto the bed. Her heart jumped as the full weight of her husband landed on top of her. “How could you?”

Another shout accompanied a fist to the side of her face. She fell into a conscious state of shock as Charles tore the chemise at the next. Joanna could not manage to fight him from on top her in her dazed state. She could barely manage to move to cover herself as the cotton material tore again exposing her breasts. Rough hands grabbed at the soft flesh leaving behind faint purple bruises.

“Charles.” She finally managed to squeak out a word to try and stop his actions before she was once again beaten into her place.

“Worthless.” The last word he spoke before dropping into a drunken slumber brought her from her daze.

Nausea turned her stomach as the words he had spoken in confession returned to her thoughts. Gideon was in grave danger, and she was the only one who could save him. Gently pushing the loudly snoring man to the side, she slipped silently from the bed. Catching a glimpse of herself in the plate-sized mirror hanging above her desk, she almost did not recognize the reflection.

A deep purple bruise was darkening beneath her eye. She pulled the torn cotton of her chemise close around her neck to cover the bruised on her shoulders and chest. A flush of embarrassment for her own weakness colored her cheeks pushing her grab a page of parchment and an envelope from her desk. Her fingers shook as she picked up the ink well and quill from the drawer.

Writing as fast as her trembling body would allow, she conveyed exactly what Charles had confessed. Not taking a moment more to read the note she had penned, she folded the parchment and stuffed it inside an envelope. Bailiff Argure’s name was scrolled onto the front before she lifted a candle to drip wax to seal it. Blowing on the hardening wax, she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and pulled open the door of the cottage.

“Daniel.” She was relieved to see the son of her neighbor walking a horse to the well. “I have a mission for you.” The small lad stared at her from under his tousled black hair and nodded. “You must deliver this letter to Bailiff Argure straight away.” Joanna placed the letter in his hands and lifted him up onto the back of the steed. “It is of the most important nature.”

Standing in the doorway, she gazed after the boy as he rode out of sight down the dusty road. A prayer for speed drifted from her lips in hopes the letter would reach the jail in time to save Gideon’s life. Her heart was shrouded in fear that her lover would die in the real murderer’s place. Joanna closed the wooden door to the small cottage.

“Stupid girl.” A sharp pain exploded across her right cheek as she turned around to face the shadows. “Worthless whore.” His deeply demonic voice rumbled around her. “Do you honestly believe your stupid letter can save him?”

“Charles, you have awoken.” She tried to ignore his anger to try and calm him. “Would you like me to start breakfast?”

“You ignore my question, woman.”

“I have no idea what you are speaking about, Charles.” Ignoring the pain in her face was proving to be a challenging task even though she had done it several times before. “I will start on breakfast.”

The pounding fear of her heart vibrated in her ears as she turned and walked to the kitchen table. She said a silent prayer that her husband was still too inhibited to recognize her worries. Trembling hands slowly removed the food encrusted dishes from the night before.

“How many times, Joanna?” She could feel the rage radiating from his body as he approached the table.

“I do not know—“

“Liar!” Charles sent the table toppling over. The frail woman jumped as the clay dishes shattered into dust against the dirt floor. “How many times did he touch you?” Squeezing her eyes closed, she hoped it was all a horrific nightmare and she would soon wake safely in Gideon’s arms.

Charles’ fingers gripped her shoulders with fierce fervor as his rage boiled to overflowing. He threw her petite form down onto the scattered clay pieces with another strike to her face. A hideously crazed laugh tore from his lips as he grabbed his chopping axe from beside the door.

He raised the weapon high over his head with bloody rage clouding his vision. The dull head dropped into the flesh and bone of her chest with a deep thwack. Dark red blood oozed from the wound with every failing beat of her heart. A dark rusty pool formed on the floor beside the limp corpse as he pulled a dagger from his belt.

“You will never escape me.” With one quick slice of his dagger, Charles opened his own throat and fell down beside his wife. Blood mixed together soaking the hard-packed dirt floor.

-

“Bring out the guilty.”

The executioner took his place beside the chopping block as a bound prisoner was lead from the holding cell. Sorrow covered the man’s expression as he walked without hesitation to his death. Bailiff Argure followed the man closely praying his soul would be forgiven.

“Gideon, I am asking you one final time.” Argure’s voice trembled. “Reveal where you were that night, and you will go free.”

Gideon shook his head one last time and kneeled down to put his head on the block. The bailiff turned away and gave the cloaked executioner the signal to carry out his job. Walking slowly through the crowd of on-lookers, Argure knew he was killing an innocent man. A hollow thud echoed above the whispering people.

“Bailiff Argure, I have a letter for you.” A boy grabbed the man’s arm and thrust a simple parchment envelope into his hand. “It is urgent, sir.”

“Thank you.” The boy had disappeared before the mumbled word was even uttered.

Tearing open the envelope, he pulled the handwritten letter from its encasement and scanned the words. His heart sank deeper within his chest as he read to the signature. The letter and envelope tumbled from his hands and dropped into a puddle of mud. Raindrops patted onto the ground as rumbles of thunder boomed between the clouds. One word proved Argure’s worries: innocent.