Chapter Eighteen

It was becoming abundantly clear that justice was dispensed immediately against any wrongdoer in the village independent of any laws that controlled the rest of the country. This became obvious when some of the children found their conscience pricked and admitted to their parents what they had done to the pharmacy. They mentioned that it had been the work of Thomas Howard who had influenced them to destroy the building and that the same boy burned it down.

As the news spread far and wide, the villagers became incensed that their future had been seriously impaired by the mischievous boy, and they gathered together until almost two hundred of them formed a group to march onward to the Howard house. It was their earnest intention to wreak their vengeance against the malevolent lad. The act that they wer to carry out had never been witnessed in the village at any time since its formation for peace and harmony had always reigned. However, on this occasion, the villagers were unable to control their fury at the incident which affected them all so severely.

When they arrived at the Howard house, the leaders hammered on the front door and Thomas Howard’s father opened it to let them inside. He already knew of his son’s misdemeanour whereby he had led the group of children and by the word he had used to influence them to destroy the pharmacy,. In addition, he had been responsible personally for burning it down. Howard’s father willing allowed the mob to enter the house and drag his son out into the open.

‘You were the one who caused the pharmacy to be burned down!’ accused one man angrily, holding the boy firmly by the arm. ‘Do you realise what you’ve done?’

Young Howard could be most obstinate when he wanted to and he faced the mob with an angry expression on his face. His only hope was that silence might create doubt and he would escape punishment but his tongue ran away with him. ‘Enough is enough! Enough is enough! Enough is enough!’ he repeated fearlessly.

‘He’s the one who did it!’ shouted one of the children to be accompanied by many other younger members of the community.

Thomas Howard was loath to give up his life so easily. ‘I did not do it alone. They were all in it with me! You adults all refused to listen to our claims. We had to do something to make you understand!‘

‘You little rascal!’ yelled one of the villagers. ‘You’ve done for all of us!’

‘How many tablet do people normally keep in their homes?’ I asked one of the men nearest to me.

‘Only a few days worth. The pharmacy was always there when we needed more. We didn’t need to have more than that.’

I shuddered to think that within a few days they would all have run out of supply. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see three men digging a hole in which they shortly placed a large wooden cross. I had seen many films in the cinema and on television about the Roman empire to realise what was going to happen to the boy.

‘You’re right!’ shouted another villager. ‘Enough is enough! Say your prayers to the Lord if you have any!’

Without hesitation, the boy was dragged forward to the base of the cross.

‘What are you going to do?’ demanded the lad trembling with fear. ‘What’s going to happen? I didn’t mean it! I swear I didn’t mean it!’

‘You’re going to pay for what you did!’ returned someone from the back of the crowd. ‘You deliberately burned down that building and we’re all going to suffer of it!’

There was a general consensus voiced by the rest of the mob as they gave way to their feelings.

Without delay, two men brought long ladders which they placed against the side of the cross. They lifted the boy up, one of them holding the young man’s hand against the left-hand side. He produced a hammer and some nails from his belt and struck one of them into Howard’s wrist to affix it to the cross. The boy screamed at the top of his voice as pain surged through his body but the crowd was totally unsympathetic. The man passed the hammer and nails to his colleague on the other ladder who struck one of the nails into the boy’s other wrist. Both men then moved down their ladders. The second man cross Howard’s legs over each other before driving a nail into his feet. They removed the ladders leaving the boy looking similar to the figure of Jesus Christ affixed to the cross. The boy was still screaming as the mob left and, not unexpectedly, by the next day his life would be over. Yet it wasn’t a natural death through exposure or as a result of the nails affixing him to the cross. Someone visited him at the dead of night to finish off the boy by stabbing him through the heart. Such was the anger of the people in the village. It was an ignominious ending to the glory that had never really been achieved by the leader of the children. Within a very short time, his reign was irrevocably over.

I stared at the body knowing that, although I was the law authority in the village, I would never be able to determine the identity of the culprit. There was no doubt that the boy had deserved to be severely unfinished but taking his life buy stabbing him with a knife was a step too far. Nonetheless, his actions had been heinous, affecting everyone I the village, and vengeance was savage for anyone who committed a serious crime. Howard had done his worst and he had paid the full penalty for his misdemeanour.