The Prime Minister

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Hear me, Portuguese!” he cried. “My kindred and I have been sacrificed to the lust of a weak King, and the ambition and hatred of a tyrant Minister; but our blood will not cry in vain for vengeance; and for centuries, war, disorder, and wretchedness are in store for our hapless country. A dying man speaks.”

“Silence, base traitor!” thundered forth the chief criminal magistrate. “Commend your soul to God, or you shall be stopped by a gag!” at the same time giving the signal to the executioner.

To spare him the agony his brother had suffered, he was seated on a chair, made fast to the cross, with his hands fastened above him, and being then strangled, and his legs and arms broken, the body was shown to the people, and placed on another wheel, likewise covered with a black cloth.

“Ah! my poor master will be the next,” cried Pedro. “I will die with him; for I shall never be able to rescue him from their clutches, the barbarians!”

The next sufferer who appeared from the sedan-chair was the Count of Atouquia. He mounted the steps with a furious and indignant air, and when he attempted to speak, he was compelled to hold silence. He was executed with the same ceremonies as his brother-in-law.

Manoel Ferreira, the Duke’s servant, Captain Braz Romeiro, of the Marquis of Tavora’s late regiment, and Joaö Miguel, the Duke’s page, then followed in the order named, dressed in ragged and scanty garments, and were executed like the previous victims.

Carpenters were now employed to make several alterations in the scaffold, and two large crosses, without a centre-post, were brought to the front.

The body of Donna Leonora, with the head, were placed on a bench in the centre, so as to meet the view of her husband, who was destined to be the next victim.

As the unhappy Marquis appeared, the muffled drums of the military bands gave forth irregular sounds, the troops whom he had once commanded with distinction and honour, and through whose lines he was now led, turning their left shoulders as he passed. He mounted the steps with a quick and firm pace; but started with horror, a death-like pallor overspreading his countenance, as he beheld the mangled, body of his wife, whom he had last seen in all her pride and beauty before their apprehension. The lacerated bodies of his sons and servants were then exhibited to him, as well as the instruments of torture with which he was to suffer death. He was next led round to be shown to the populace, whom he did not attempt to address, and returning, as soon as he was permitted, he knelt down by the side of the cross. He then humbly confessed himself to his ghostly attendants, and, when they retired, boldly extended himself upon the cross laid flat on the ground, to which he was then bound; the executioner next lifting a vast iron mallet, with a long handle, struck him three blows on the chest, the stomach, and the face, besides breaking his arms and legs,—his sobs and pitiable groans of agony being heard for some minutes ere he expired.

It was past two o’clock when the Duke of Aveiro mounted the scaffold, dressed in the morning-gown in which he had been taken, bare-headed, and holding a crucifix in his manacled hand. The anticipation of an agonising death had somewhat humbled his once presumptuous pride, though, perhaps, even at that moment, indignation at the ignominy with which he was treated was his predominant feeling, as he gazed around with looks of rage and despair. He underwent precisely the same ceremony as the Marquis; but the executioner, through nervousness, struck the first blow on his stomach, causing him the most excruciating tortures, as was known by his heart-piercing shrieks, and it was some minutes ere, by this most barbarous method, life became extinct.