We reached the block whereupon I was thrown to the ground, and they began lashing my hands together. They had almost finished the chore when a commotion arose from across the yard where the slaves were assembled. I heard shouting, and to my surprise I recognized both the voice and the words.
"Stop!" cried the voice. "Let me take his place."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the figure of an old man hobbling forth as quickly as his wracked body would allow. After a moment, I realized that it was Bishop Cadoc. Gone were the robes and cloak, and gone the eagle-topped cambutta, but his voice was strong and powerful as ever. One of the guards ran to thwart him, but the chief overseer gestured to the man to allow him to come forth.
"Take me instead," Cadoc said quickly, puffing with the effort of crossing the yard. I saw then that he was ill, for his eyes were hazy and his breath a laboured wheeze. He stepped nearer, gesturing to the chief overseer to help explain his words. "I will take his place. I will take all their places. Take me, and let them go," he said, offering himself.
"Please, Bishop Cadoc, it is better this way," I pleaded. "I am content and ready to die. God has forsaken me, and I have nothing left. Let it end now."
The mine overseer looked from one to the other of us, and decided, I suppose, that he would get more work out of me than out of Cadoc, for he uttered a gruff command and the guards took hold of the bishop. Taking the rope from me, they tied the old man instead.
"Cadoc!" I began, "It is not right that you-"
"Listen to me, Aidan," he said, gently. "There is not much time." I made to protest to the chief overseer, but Cadoc stopped me, saying, "I am dying, Aidan. I am nearly gone."
"Bishop Cadoc…" I cried in agony.
"Peace, brother," he soothed. "I have reached the end of my life and I am ready to join my king. But you, Aidan, must live. There is much to do and your life is just beginning."
His hands tied now, they pulled him roughly to the ground and bound his feet. Cadoc seemed oblivious to the mistreatment. "You were well chosen, brother. Never doubt that. God will not forsake those who call upon his name. Cling to him, Aidan. He is your rock and your strength."
They lifted him to the block and lay him over it, face down, his thin shoulders and legs falling to either side. A rope was passed through the tight leather bonds joining his hands, and another between his ankles; these were then tied to the horses' harnesses.
"Always remember," he said, turning his face to me for the last time, "your life was bought with a price. Remember that when doubt overtakes you. Farewell, Aidan."
He then turned his head and closed his eyes. I heard the familiar drone of the Lord's Prayer.
The chief overseer spoke out a command, and the pit guard, whip in hand, stepped to the block, pushing me aside. I could not stand and fell to the ground where I rolled in torment on my bruised back. Another guard, a tall, well-muscled dark-skinned Sarazen, took his place on the other side of the block. He reached out his hand and received the curved axe.
At a nod from the chief overseer, the pit guard gave out a cry to the horses. His whip uncurled in the same instant and the crack echoed in the yard. The slaves all shouted at once. The horses started forth. Poor Cadoc's body snapped taut like a scrap of rag. The whip cracked again as the pit guard lashed the horses to their work.
There came a hideous popping sound from Cadoc's body as the very bones and sinews gave way. Hearing this, the tall guard swung his axe up over his head and down again in one swift motion. The blow was ill-placed, however, for the blade bit deep into the good bishop's side just above the hip, opening a terrible gash. Out spewed blood and entrails.
Cadoc cried out. The whip cracked again, and the horses stretched him further. "Kyrie!" he screamed, his great voice crying not in pain but victory. "Kyrie eleison!"
Unable to look away, I stared in horror as the curved blade slashed again, this time catching Cadoc in the small of the back. The bones severed with a snap and the horses stumbled forward. I saw a gush of bright, bright red, brilliant in the sunlight, as the bishop's body split in half.
Cadoc gave a last cry as the fore-half of his severed trunk, suddenly free, slewed forward. "Kyrie!" he gasped as the breath of life fled his lungs.
The Arab onlookers raised a shout-a word that sounded like "Bismillah"-calling over and over again. The slaves, ranged opposite the cheering crowd, fell into a sullen silence as the two halves of the good bishop's corpse were loosed from the horses and dragged off to one side, leaving a dark trail in the dust. My mouth filled with bitter bile and my stomach heaved, but there was nothing in my gut to throw up. I gagged instead.
