Free devilstone chronicles 01 - devils band by richard anderton

France or the House of York,” retorted Wolsey accusingly.
    “Then where’s your evidence?” cried Thomas holding his arms wide so the crowd could see he was dressed in rags but Wolsey raised his hand to signify the trial was at an end.
    “Enough, there is nothing more to be said. The accused’s guilt is confirmed by the testimony of the witness and she may go,” said Wolsey. The girl curtsied and flounced from the room, clearly pleased with her performance. Thomas wondered if she knew that her lies had condemned him to a brutal and painful death. Most probably she did and she didn’t care.
    “The jury is instructed to find the prisoner Thomas Devilstone guilty on all charges,” continued Wolsey, addressing the jury’s nervous looking foreman. The other judges on the bench nodded their agreement and Thomas knew he was doomed. The niceties of legal procedure were maintained, and the jury was allowed to retire to consider their verdict, but the outcome was never in doubt. No juror would dare disobey the cardinal or they too would hang. After less than a quarter of an hour the jurymen filed back into court and pronounced the prisoner guilty of conspiring with evil spirits to prevent the Queen’s conception of a child, a crime that was nothing short of High Treason.
    “The punishment for traitors has been established by common practice since the days of King Edward Primus and it is my solemn duty to pass sentence,” said Wolsey with a noticeable air of satisfaction.
    “It is the order of this court that the prisoner Thomas Devilstone be detained at His Majesty’s pleasure until theappointed day when he shall suffer execution in a manner befitting a necromancer, heretic and traitor. On that day he shall be drawn on a hurdle to Smithfield and there hanged by the neck till he be half dead. He shall then be cut down alive, his privy parts shall be cut off, his belly ripped asunder, his bowels drawn from his body and burnt whilst he still lives. His corpse shall be divided into four quarters, one quarter to be set up over each of the four gates of the city of London and his head set upon London Bridge until it doth corrupt and decay. Officers of the court, do your duty.”
    The moment Wolsey finished passing sentence the crowd became a baying mob. The lawyers, students and other spectators stood on the benches and howled for the prisoner to be taken outside immediately and dismembered in the Palace Yard, lest he use his powers of witchcraft to turn into a bat-winged angel of Hell and fly from the king’s justice. Fortunately for Thomas, the court officers ignored the crowd’s pleas but they took tight hold of their prisoner’s arms, just in case.

5
    THE TOWER OF LONDON
    W ith the sound of the crowd’s blood lust ringing in his ears, Thomas was led from the court but he was not returned to the Fleet Prison. Instead he was loaded with more chains, bundled through a side door and taken to The King’s Stairs, the river jetty that served Westminster Palace. Here a small barge, painted in the green and white livery of the Tudors, waited to convey him to a more secure place of imprisonment - The Tower of London.
    As the bargemen rowed the boat out into the Thames, Thomas’ mind began to spin like the eddies formed by their gaily painted oars. If he could reach Southwark perhaps he could disappear into the slums and hovels on the south bank of the Thames like the Nubian he’d met in the Fleet Prison but though the river here was narrower than at Tilbury, his chances of reaching the opposite bank by swimming were just as remote. If he tried to leap over the boat’s side his guards would hack him to pieces before he reached the gunwale and even if he evaded their weaponsthe heavy chains that secured his wrists and ankles would send him straight to the bottom of the river.
    Yet Thomas could hardly complain that his sentence was unjust or undeserved. The trial may have been a sham, and he sincerely doubted that the girl