The Gallows Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

that she wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all.
She never spoke, despite the quiet whispers demanding to know what
the gaoler had wanted, and instead curled up tightly in a futile
attempt to close the world out.
    Despite
the shattered remnants of her heart, she knew she had made the
right decision. Peter would undoubtedly hate her for her
callousness, but she also knew that he wasn’t an unfair man. As
soon as the fog of grief lifted, he would see the wisdom of her
decision and, she hoped, not hate her too much.
    Although
she knew it was coming, she still jumped when the lock slid back on
the cell door, heralding the arrival of the new day.
    “ Up,” the gaoler ordered, dragging the man closest to the door
onto his feet and out of the room. Five of the men were manacled to
him, and had no choice but to lurch awkwardly to their feet and
shuffle after him.
    Jemima
waited her turn and followed. She wasn’t manacled to the others,
most probably because they knew she would hardly be able to move
under the weight of the heavy ironwork around her hands and
wrists.
    As she
stepped out into the long corridor, she knew she wouldn’t be
returning to the condemned cell. Given the fate that awaited her,
the claustrophobic darkness suddenly didn’t seem all that bad. She
had the wild urge to run back into the gloomy depths and stay
there.
    Squaring
her shoulders, she ignored the tracks of tears on her grimy face
and stared stoically at the back of the man’s head before her as
they shuffled down the corridor to a side room. Inside, a single
table laden with nine plates of steaming food sat waiting for them.
The aroma of cooked vegetables, the only decent food they had been
given since their arrival several days ago, teased their
nostrils.
    Despite
her hunger, Jemima couldn’t swallow any of it. She tore off a piece
of the chunk of stale bread beside her plate and chewed absently,
watching the faces of the men around her. She didn’t know if they
were fully aware of what lay in store for them. Throughout the
ordeal they had been a reticent bunch. Briefly she wondered if they
all knew Scraggan. They had all been there on that night. They had
all looked as shocked and horrified as she had when they had been
carted off to gaol. During their trial, each man had repeatedly
declared they had been innocent, and set up.
    Even if
she did learn the truth about that night, there was nothing she
could do about her own fate, let alone theirs. It was too
late.
    Unable
to force any of the food down, she simply sat and waited. When they
were finished, they were visited by the vicar who prayed with those
who wished to pray for forgiveness. Some of the men began to weep
as the realisation of their situation rose before them.
    Having
lost her faith some time ago, Jemima simply remained quiet,
strangely detached from everything. When the gaolers ordered them
to move again, she shuffled after the line of men. As she left the
room, her eyes met and held those of the gaoler who had been
present in Mr Simpson’s office earlier. There was something strange
about the way he always seem to be watching her, ever present,
silent and watchful.
    While
standing in line to have her manacles removed, she could feel his
eyes boring into her back. She knew if she looked over her
shoulder, he would be there; waiting. She shivered and fought off
the strange feeling of unease that swept through her.
    Whatever he was doing didn’t really matter
anymore , she thought, shuffling forward a
couple of steps. Even over the clanging of the ironmonger’s hammer,
they could hear the rumble of the chattering crowds gathering
around the gallows. It was a special occasion, and some people had
taken a rare day off specially to watch the hangings.
    Small
shafts of sunlight valiantly attempted to penetrate the cloying
gloom within the dank building, as the men had their iron manacles
hammered off before their hands were tied behind their
backs.
    Jemima
glanced down in horror