"Thou hast been ever in my service, hast thou not?" demanded De Hagenbach.
"Under what other master," replied the executioner, "could I have enjoyed such constant practice? I have executed your decrees on condemned sinners since I could swing a scourge, lift a crowbar, or wield this trusty weapon; and who can say I ever failed of my first blow, or needed to deal a second? Tristrem of the Hospital, and his famous assistants, Petit André and Trois Eschelles, are novices compared with me in the use of the noble and knightly sword. Marry, I should be ashamed to match myself with them in the field practice with bowstring and dagger; these are no feats worthy of a Christian man who would rise to honour and nobility."
"Thou art a fellow of excellent address, and I do not deny it," replied De Hagenbach. "But it cannot be—I trust it cannot be—that when noble blood is becoming scarce in the land, and proud churls are lording it over knights and barons, I myself should have caused so much to be spilled?"
"I will number the patients to your excellency by name and title," said Francis, drawing out a scroll of parchment, and reading with a commentary as he went on,—"There was Count William of Elvershoe—he was my assay-piece, a sweet youth, and died most like a Christian."
"I remember—he was indeed a most smart youth, and courted my mistress," said Sir Archibald.
"He died on St. Jude's, in the year of grace 1455," said the executioner.
"Go on—but name no dates," said the Governor.
"Sir Miles of Stockenborg"——
"He drove off my cattle," observed his excellency.
"Sir Louis of Riesenfeldt"—continued the executioner.