The Hangmen Entertain

THE HANGMEN ENTERTAIN.

By A J Rogers.

Charlie pulls up his breeches in an effort to hitch them over his
non-existent waist, but they slip down to their original position,
resting on his hips with the belt buckle below his belly.
"Give it a good soaking Harry."
"All right."
Harry pours the oil from a small cup, borrowed from the nearby coach
maker, and soaks the two hinges on the trap door. The excess oil drips
onto the wet cobblestones below the platform, creating the
kaleidoscopic colours when oil and water are mixed.
"That's good," says Charlie," We don't want it sticking or making a
noise. Not that you'd hear it with the roar of the crowd."
"Are we going to check it now Charlie?"
"Lets see." Charlie went through a mental check of the work so far,
moving his lips but not making a sound. A new rope fitted, the
crossbeam tested, and now the trapdoor oiled. One thing though, the
handrail. It could be stronger and need to warn The Mayor not to lean
against it. With his weight he could go over and end up in the
crowd.
Charlie smiles at the thought of Mayor Peabody falling from the
hangman's platform and denting his ego. Which could be very painful for
a jumped up butcher.
"Well, we've almost done. All we need to do is test the trap. What
weight are you Harry?"
"About ten stone."
"That's the weight of the prisoner- ideal."
"He's heavier than me," said Harry.
"No he's not. Anyway there's no time now. You'll have to do it. Com'on
you've done it before. All you have to do is stand on the trap. Hold
onto the rope and I'll do the mechanical bit - pull the lever."
"Why is it always me hanging on the rope. Why not you?" asked
Harry.
"Cos you're the right weight Harry."
"Well, I don't understand is why all the people we've hanged so far are
my weight. There must be some killers that are your size?"
"No, I'm afraid not. It's well known that killers are about ten stone.
I thought you'd know that?"
"Piss off." Harry replies.
Charlie gently grips Harry's collar and positions him on the
trapdoor.
"Now all you have to do is to hang on tight to the rope. Here we are.
Got a good hold? Now I'll count to three and pull the lever."
"I don't like this Charley," wails Harry.
"Stop moaning and hold tight."
"One, two, three."
Charlie attempts to pull the lever but it doesn't budge.
"I don't like this Charlie. Can't we do it another way? What about a
sack of sand?"
"Stay where you are. Just a small adjustment needed."
Picking up a large hammer, Charlie hits the hinges to loosen them.
Harry shakes with the vibration, as does his knees.
Returning to the lever he gives it a tug. The trapdoor drops and so
does an unready Harry. He falls through. Expecting a count of three,
his grip on the rope was not good. He lands on the wet cobblestones in
a heap. Charlie looks through the open trap with an amazed expression
on his face, "You all right Harry?"
The crumpled heap moves and moans. " You bastard. You didn't count to
three. I wasn't ready!"
Charlie feigns a pained look on his face and says," I did, didn't
I?"
"No you bloody didn't."
"Oh, I'm sorry about that. You're all right though?" asks
Charlie.
"Lot you care. I think I've broken my leg."
"No you can't have. See if you can stand."
"How can I bloody well stand with a broken leg? Don't be stupid." Harry
replies.
"Well, you said you only think you've broken it. If you can stand up,
then you know you haven't. Makes sense, don't it."
"I'll make sense of your face when I get up there," shouts Harry.
Charlie makes a slow climb down the ladder to give Harry time to cool
down. He pulls up his breeches, straightens his hat and bends over his
friend. "I'm sorry Harry, I thought you were holding. One good thing
about it though."
"What's that?" Harry says, and immediately regrets asking.
"The traps working fine."
"Get away from me. Piss off!"
Charlie helps his mate to his feet, dusts him down and straightens his
coat. As he performs this act of friendship he notes a rather large egg
shaped bruise on Harry's forehead. He decides it's best not to mention
it, hopefully by the time he sees it, it wont be so big.
"I think you need a drink Harry. Come on there's a Inn down the road,
first drink's on me."
Charlie supports Harry as they walk down the cobbled street. The
distorted reflection from the wet road is mirrored by the deformed way
Harry is hobbling.

They enter the Inn and Harry manages to sit by the open fire, while
Charlie orders two pints of mild. Harry is in some pain now and finds
it difficult to know what to rub, his leg, his shoulder or his
head.
"Here you are mate. A fresh pint, only brewed this morning. You can
tell by the yeast floating on top," laughs Charlie.
"Your so funny aren't you. I'm glad you can laugh. I'm in pain here. I
think I need a doctor."
"No, you'll be all right once you've got this down you," Charlie
says.

Harry sits one side of the fire looking like a wet sack of turnips.
Charlie sits opposite him with a slight grin, trying to get his friend
to forget his aches and pains.
As they sit in silence, sipping their beers the Mayor enters the pub.
He is wearing his coat over his bloodstained apron and on his head is a
bowler hat that may have fitted him years ago, but not now. The coat
also matches the hat; it's much too small for him.
He makes for the bar and orders a drink before noticing Charlie.
"Hello Charlie. Everything ready for the lunchtime dangle?" He laughs
at his own joke. The number of times he's made this joke, if you can
call it one, is not known, but Charlie doesn't like to hurt anyone's
feelings, especially the Mayor, so he smiles.
Charlie replies," Everything is set. My able assistant and I have just
tested it. It's as sweet as a nut. By the way, don't lean on the rails
when you're up there. They're not that safe - needs new ones. I keep
complaining but they never send any, so be careful."
"What's wrong with Harry. He looks sick?"
Before Harry answers, Charlie whispers to the Mayor," He's fine; he's
showing off a bit. Slight accident, didn't listen to my
instruction."
The mayor nods, " I understand staff are hard to find in a dying
industry."
They both scream of laughter at the joke and Harry looks at them-
disgusted.
"Who we got today then?" Charlie says.
The Mayor replies," He's a coachman from this pub. His name's Nick and
I'm afraid he liked his drink too much. Took his coach to the next town
and turned it over. Killed a passenger I'm afraid. Thank God he was a
Londoner and not someone from our town."
"That's a shame."
" Yes, he was on his way back from seeing his family; I'm told he has a
wife and five kids. So I suspect there's a few more for the poor
house."
"Great shame, great shame." Charlie turns to Harry and says, " Did you
hear that Harry. Wife and five kids without a husband. Puts your
problems into place, don't it?"
Harry doesn't answer. He looks up at Charlie, with a look of hatred,
sniffs and turns back to staring into the fire and brooding.
The Mayor said, "Well, It's time to be off. Got to get dressed for the
hanging. Don't want them to start without me. I bring dignity to the
dangle."
The again roared with laughter. The Mayor slapped his thighs and bent
forward, his hat fell off and rolled under a table. This made Charlie
roar even more, and even had Harry laughing.
They tried to smother their laughter, but it was impossible, for the
sight of the Mayor's overlarge backside in the air as he struggled to
reach his hat, was too much for any man. Tears ran down Harry's
cheeks.
The Mayor eventually retrieved his hat, placed it on his head, but back
to front, and shouted," Bah." He left the pub in such a hurry he
knocked over a chair.

Charlie and Harry finished their drinks and ordered another. Plenty of
time yet, they thought, but noticed a number of people walking towards
the square.
"Looks as though we should go," said Charlie.

The square was now busy with people milling around. Men with their
wives, farm workers and families with small children. Some people had
brought drinks and others were sharing a loaf with chunks of cheese.
The noise generated by the crowd could have been mistaken for a
Festival or a May Day. People shouting across the heads of the crowd to
their friends to join them, and the occasional argument when someone
tried to get to the front. This event was well attended and suggested
the town had come to a halt. The strange thing was, the majority of the
crowd were women. Whether they had more time to themselves or were
dedicated and enjoyed a dangle, as Mayor Peabody called it, is not
known. But there was no doubt the women outnumbered the men and managed
to position themselves near the front.

Charlie climbed the ladder of the platform. From there he had the best
view of all. The square was almost full, a good turn out for Monday.
Harry stayed below the platform, just to the side of where the body
would hang. He wasn't sure why Charlie told him to stand there. He
supposed if something went wrong he would be close at hand, but he
couldn't think of what he should do if the rope broke and the man
dropped to the floor and was still alive. Would Charlie expect him to
hold the man in case he tried to run away? He didn't know but he kept
this thought in mind and planned to be ready to fall on the man if he
made the cobblestones.
Charlie strutted around the small platform trying to look important. He
checked the rope, the lever, and stamped on the trap to make sure it
was locked. The crowd loved the stamping of the trap and they responded
with a small cheer. Whether this response was caused by the excitement
of the forthcoming event, or because they half hoped Charlie could fall
through, no one knows. But Charlie didn't mind either way. He enjoyed
being the centre of attraction. To make sure he kept their attention he
occasionally stamped the trap.

From the butchers shop doorway appeared Mayor Peabody. He wore his red
velvet cloak with a matching hat, the chain around his neck bore the
seal of the town and wore clean breeches for the occasion. Standing
outside his shop he looked up and down the street with a grin of
satisfaction on his podgy face. He felt pleased at drawing attention
from the passing crowd. He coughed, cleared his throat and royally
walked to the town square. The crowd parted to make a way as he
approached the hanging platform and he proceeded to climbed the ladder.
Once he had reached the platform he acknowledged the crowd by raising
his hat and giving them a slight nod of his head. Charlie by this time
was standing at the back of the platform having now accepted the Mayor
was centre of attraction. Charlie did step forward, and in a low voice,
reminded the Mayor to avoid leaning on the handrail.
Now the crowd pushed back to make way for the horse and cart carrying
the prisoner. Accompanied by two guards they unshackled the criminal
and led him up the ladder.
He was a man in his late thirties with rumpled hair and an unshaven
face. He appeared to have been in a fight for he had bruises on his
bare arms and cuts on his face and wore only a thin shirt and a pair of
grey breeches. His looked like a condemned man, cold, despondent and
miserable with that look of resignation. Unfortunately he was a "quiet
one". The crowd preferred the "fighters". The ones who claimed
innocence, or a miscarriage of justice, and fought all the way to the
trapdoor. Then became resigned once they stood on the trap with the
noose over their heads. It was as though the trap had some mystical
properties and their pathway to heaven, or hell, depending on their
beliefs, was set.
The prisoner received a welcome cheer as he stepped onto the platform.
The Mayor nodded to him as the vicar read a few lines from the Bible in
a hushed voice. The prisoner dropped his head and tears filled his eyes
as the hood was placed over his head.
By this time the platform was getting crowded. There were six in total,
including Charlie. The Mayor shuffled his way to the front of the
platform and addressed the crowd. Charley was standing behind him, not
by design, but because that was the only available space. The Mayor had
brought the special voice he used on these occasions. It was a slow and
measured with a falsetto tone that someone had likened to the "Squire
with constipation." The Mayor started his speech. "Ladies and
Gentlemen. Were gathered here today to witness the hanging of Benjamin
Wallis. Who after a fair trial was found guilty of causing the death of
one of his coach passengers. A person called Brian Tilbury. May God
rest his soul." The Mayor was now in full flow and getting a little
carried away. He had one hand on the rail and gesticulating with the
other.
"Tried for this terrible crime and found guilty by his peers." The
mayor leant forward against the handrail and Charlie heard the creak of
splitting wood. The Mayors lost his balance and he lurched forward as
the rail splintered and broke. Charlie's quick thinking stopped the
Mayor falling into the crowd by grabbing his cloak and pulling him back
with all his might. This resulted in the Mayor falling back on Charlie
who stepped back onto the trap door. With the total weight of Charlie
and the overweight Mayor the trap gave way and they both disappeared
through the opening. Charlie landed first, then the Mayor on top of
him. The Mayor was the lucky because he had a soft landing. Charlie was
not so fortunate. Sixteen stone falling from a height of six-foot,
landing on you is not good.
However the crowd did not agree. Their roar and the laughter was
possibly heard three miles away. This was the best of the best. There
would never be a better hanging than this. The crowd cheered. They
whistled. They shouted, "Again, again." They knew it was impossible to
see again, but it indicated how much it they enjoyed it.
Harry's reaction was a mixture of shock and amazement when they fell
through the trapdoor. He wasn't expecting it, but realised that Charlie
was sandwiched between the Mayor and the cobblestones. At this stage he
was not laughing, although the crowd was. He helped to roll the Mayor
off of Charlie who was groaning and dazed.
"You all right Charlie?" asked Harry.
"Don't be stupid. Of course I'm not," groaned Charlie.
"Where does it hurt? Anything broken?"
Harry was now suppressing his laughter but trying to be compassionate
at the same time. Which is a difficult thing to do.
"Stop laughing you idiot. I think I'm going to die." Charlie
cried.
"Course you wont Charlie. They say only the good die young. See if you
can get up. See if anything is broken."
Harry's last remark came from his subconscious. Where it came from he
did not know and it was debateable whether it could be called ironic.
In fact if you had tried to discuss this with Harry all he would say
was," It paid Charlie back."

The more compassionate members of the crowd, who were close by, decided
that both men needed some medical attention and by loading them onto
the cart they could get them to the doctor. The guard in charge of the
prisoner voiced an objection to this plan. He thought the cart was
hired for prison duties only, and therefore could not take wounded
officials; they should supply their own transport. A heated argument
followed and eventually a compromise was agreed. They loaded Charlie,
the Mayor and the prisoner onto the cart. The prisoner stood manacled
with the Mayor and Charlie laying either side of him.

As they left the Square the send off from the crowd was tremendous with
shouting, cheering and hats flying in the air. They followed the cart
down the street with some of the crowd breaking into song. "A hanging
we will go, a hanging we will go. Hi, ho a merry O. A hanging we will
go."
The doctor was waiting at his door having heard the approaching noise.
People tried to explain the event that had caused their injuries but
with the noise and singing the doctor found it confusing. The two
injured men were helped indoors and the crowd started to
disperse.

As the cart completed its journey back to the jail, the crowd followed
and continued to wave, shout and sing. Someone in the crowd did say,"
from any disaster there comes some good." Which led to the crowd
generating some compassion for the prisoner.
"I don't think Nick should hang now. If it wasn't for him we wouldn't
have had the best entertainment for years." One of the crowd
suggested.