Fast eBooks

Art sure that he is dead?"
"Dead as Pontius Pilate, worshipful sir."
"It is well. Now, as to the other knave. There are trees and to
spare over yonder, but we have scarce leisure to make for them.
Draw thy sword, Thomas of Redbridge, and hew me his head from his
shoulders."
"A boon, gracious sir, a boon!" cried the condemned man.
"What then?" asked the bailiff.
"I will confess to my crime. It was indeed I and the black cook,
both from the ship `La Rose de Gloire,' of Southampton, who did
set upon the Flanders merchant and rob him of his spicery and his
mercery, for which, as we well know, you hold a warrant against
us."
"There is little merit in this confession," quoth the bailiff
sternly. "Thou hast done evil within my bailiwick, and must
die."
"But, sir," urged Alleyne, who was white to the lips at these
bloody doings, "he hath not yet come to trial."
"Young clerk," said the bailiff, "you speak of that of which you
know nothing. It is true that he hath not come to trial, but the
trial hath come to him. He hath fled the law and is beyond its
pale.


Pages:
47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71