Den of Thieves by David Chandler Read Free Book Online

wide baldrics. None so gaudy, of course, as their liveried servants, who wore hues bright enough that anyone could tell them apart at a distance. There were a scattering of drab cloaks and doublets as well, of course, for any such gathering could not help but attract beggars and the hawkers of sweetmeats and wine. Then there were the bravos and the hired guards, who favored black silk or leather dress, to show how serious was their profession. Yet even these made some concession to the gaiety of the crowd by draping garlands of flowers around the brims of their kettle helmets or tying the favors of their ladies to the hafts and hilts of their weapons. Today, by decree, everyone was to show some sign of pomp and excitement.
    After all, it wasn’t every day you got to see a public hanging.

Chapter Eight
    T he accused was brought into the square on a hurdle, hoodwinked and bound. He wore nothing but a pair of breeches and a white nightshirt. His hair was blond and cut very short, and his chin had been shaved for his execution. Even with a filthy cloth tied around his eyes, Malden could see he had the face of a poet but the body of a warrior. Under the loose shirt the man’s body rippled with muscle. More than one woman in the crowd turned to whisper excitedly to her neighbor as the cart trundled past on its voyage to the gibbet.
    Malden hated the man instantly, just on principle.
    Leaping down easily from the gallows, the masked hangman grabbed up the prisoner’s bound hands behind his back and heaved. The bound man’s back arched in pain and he grimaced (showing off perfect white teeth), but he refused to make a noise of agony. Struggling to stand up properly, he kicked out with his legs and found the first step of the gallows. Without hesitation he climbed to the top.
    The crowd pressed close, murmuring with excitement. With barely checked glee. Up on the platform the criminal was on proud display, and the little chill of terror a hanging always evoked ran in waves ran through the people gathered to watch.
    A list of charges was read out, but Malden didn’t listen. He was far too busy at that moment lifting purses. The real trick to it wasn’t deft fingers, really. It was choosing the perfect moment. You had to wait until your mark’s attention was fully on something else, until he was totally unaware of the people all around him.
    Then it was child’s play. Snip-snip went the shears, and coins fell into Malden’s hands. The fat merchant in front of him didn’t even turn around to see who’d touched him.
    Up on the gallows the show was just getting started, it seemed. Mouths fell open and eyes went wide as the condemned man lifted his chin and interrupted the reading of the charges. “May I not see my accuser, before I am put to death?” the prisoner asked in a voice as clear as a bell.
    Over on the viewing stand the Burgrave rose from his throne. A sardonic smile twisted his lips. “I suppose you have that right, as a peer. Let him see me.”
    The executioner pulled off the prisoner’s hoodwink, and for a moment the blond man simply blinked and squinted in the bright sunlight. Then he looked up and saw Ommen Tarness gazing silently in his direction.
    â€œAh,” the prisoner said. “Greetings, milord.”
    â€œExactly, Sir Croy,” the Burgrave replied. “I am still your lord.”
    The crowd erupted in surprise. Apparently they had no idea that the man waiting to be hanged was, in fact, a knight of the realm. A man of property and good family—which made his execution that much juicier. Most interestingly, the dwarf envoy, Murdlin, jumped up on his seat at the news. The dwarf looked conflicted by varying emotions—in which state he mirrored the people who surrounded Malden on every side. A great chaos of voices and opinions raised itself, and it seemed no two citizens could agree on what this meant.
    Tarness held up both hands for