Chapter Seventeen – Hang Everything
All too soon, the fateful day arrived. The gallows were built and the noose tested. The crowd had been gathering in scores since the previous night, all eager to see the hanging of the infamous old pickpocket. As the sun rose over the rooftops, Dodger, Charley, Jamie and Harry all hurried from the den towards Newgate Prison. By now they knew what had happened. They knew there was nothing they could do to help, unless they wanted to get caught themselves. Dodger wasn't even sure why they were going to the prison; to see Fagin at his weakest and most terrified? What good would it do them to see him like that? What good would it do him?
The morning was cold but bright; birds chirped as they swooped freely about the skies, and the crowd about the gallows chattered and laughed. It all sounded so merry and cheerful, but the event to come was anything but. The platform was draped in black; a hulking structure of terror and misery. The sight of it made the four boys quail; they couldn't even begin to imagine how Fagin felt.
--
Even Fagin wasn't sure what he felt. His time in the cells had driven him over the edge. He was gone; he'd grown worse as time drew on but it was now too late to save him. The abject terror, the horror, the fury…it had all been too much for even his cunning mind to bear. He was completely lost to the world now, nothing but a shell of the man he once had been.
He was huddled on the worn wooden bench, as he had been for the past two days, shuddering with fear, wringing his hands, lamenting, sobbing, and gesticulating wildly at images only he could see. When the two policemen entered the death cell to retrieve him, he cowered away as far as he possibly could; shrieking curses and threats at them as it that would somehow make them go away.
But it didn't.
He was hauled to his feet and dragged towards the door. When he refused to walk of his own will one of the men grew impatient and dealt him a sharp blow to the head; he staggered forwards with a cry of pain, tears coursing down his face.
The man grumbled, satisfied, and continued to haul the helpless old man from the prison and towards the gallows; his other companion averting his eyes, ashamed at his partner's behavior towards the accused.
Strange; a policeman with a shred of pity.
That was what Fagin would have said if he'd had the strength. But he hadn't that strength any more.
--
As Fagin emerged from the jail, dragged by the two policemen towards the platform, the yells and hollers from the crowd were nearly deafening. Jamie covered his ears, trying in vain to blot out the bloodthirsty roar.
Dodger stared in horror at the old man. Never in all his life had he seen him so wretched; his eyes bloodshot and baggy, his hair a tangle, his skin as pale as a ghost, the bones showing clearly through the paper thin flesh. He was screaming; Dodger could hear him even over the noise of the crowd; screams of terror and pain that made him wince to be privy to them. He stole a glance at Charley; the boy's eyes were downcast. He couldn't watch this…
Fagin was marched up the platform stepped, the policeman at his side replaced by the masked executioner. He cried afresh at the sight of him; a terrifying figure to behold, dressed all in black, only his eyes visible through his mask.
The old man turned away from him, scanning the crowd, hoping against hope to see a friendly face…someone who could help him…anyone…he couldn't face this alone…he couldn't endure this, simply waiting for the platform to collapse beneath his feet…
The boys.
They were here! Dodger, Charley, Harry, Jamie! His boys! His fine fellows, his clever dogs! For a moment a small smile broke over his face, a smile which faded as quickly as it had appeared. They were here to see him swing. To see him dead.
"D-Dodger…" he whispered, his voice too hoarse for even himself to hear. "Charley…"
He felt his hands being pulled behind his back and tied fast; the rope burning and scorching just as badly as the handcuffs had. He winced, gritting his teeth against the pain. He knew he had only second left to live…
Give me one long last look, bless ya…
Even if he had found the words, or the strength to call them, he couldn't have. Moments after he muttered the names of his most beloved boys the rough black hood was jammed over his head, plunging him into darkness.
The tearstained faces of his loyal lads were the last things Fagin saw.
He was dragged blindly to his place on the platform, the rope soon slung about his neck. If he had felt fear before, it was nothing compared to this. All he had left in the world, all that he knew, was the moment when the rope would go taught, and the ground beneath his feet would vanish. In those fleeting seconds, despite the darkness of the hood, Fagin closed his eyes.
And prayed.
--
The hangman's hand inched towards the lever. Charley looked away, his face a sickly green. Harry covered Jamie's eyes, his own squeezed tightly shut. Dodger found he was holding his breath.
A hush descended on the crowd.
--
The rope grew taught.
The platform dropped away.
And with it, Fagin's life.
--
FINIS