THE SHARP EDGE
Snuff / chop & hack

    There it was, the dragon blade. In effect a huge pair of scissors that would snip her head off. A slow way of removing a head. It took no skill, required no practice. Just open it wide, place the neck in the grove and push the handle down hard enough to sever the neck. It worked well enough and the fact that it often took seconds to remove a head was of no importance. The pressure as the blade started its cut choked her. She was struggling for breath even before her spine surrendered to the edge. Then her body went limp as the cord parted. But she still lived if only for the brief time it took the blade to complete the cut. After all the spine was the hard part. The other tubes, vessels, and muscles were softer. Still she felt each part before the blade. She lived to see her blood spurting in red fountains. The last thing she saw was the floor coming. 

    The wooden handle fit my hands as if it had been made just for me. I looked up at my lord for the sign. His nod was enough to end a life and I received it now. As I lifted the blade over my head I saw the morning light glint off the freshly sharpened edge. With the axe held high I set my feet just so and as I had practiced so often I swung downward. My target was a soft neck. Bare to my blade and waiting. Surely it was softer and easier to cut than the logs I had learned on. Time slowed as the blade dropped. I could see my father watching, was he proud or worried as his son performed his first execution. As the blade contacted flesh I knew I had done well. The cut started right between the first and second neck bones. The flesh parted easily. Ever deeper the axe cut. The blood started to flow. Then the solid thunk of hitting wood. The head rolled off the block as the red jets painted the scaffold floor. A dull thud as the head landed. I waited until the blood stopped squirting before bending down. Her hair was wet with her blood and her eyes looked into mine as I lifted the head. The cheers and the looks of approval from the crowd, my father, and my lord showed I had done well. I was now an executioner. 

    There would be no coffins, no graves, no services. Just death. A long row of naked women was kneeling. They were tied in such a manner to prevent them from moving or falling. They were blindfolded and had shaved heads. They knew I was nearby.  They knew they were there to die. I stepped up to the first one. She stiffened in anticipation. She knew her time had ended. Her lips were moving but no sound came from them. A smooth backhanded sweep of my sword and her head rolled away. Her body relaxed but the bindings held her in position even in death. By the time her neck had stopped spurting blood I was standing by the second. She too went quietly, her head rolled to join the first. The strong copper smell of blood hung in the air. I got into a rhythm, a stroke of the sword, the rolling head, a few steps to avoid the blood spraying from the fresh stump, and then the next neck was there waiting.  
A few screamed as I stood next to them. Some tried to fight the bindings, others begged for mercy, a mother and daughter said goodbye. Most prayed. All died. As we left I looked back. There was still a row of kneeling women. But now there were heads scattered about. Each still wore its final expression. The blood was drying in the sun as it soaked into the dirt. The flies gathered. Overhead the first carrion birds rode the wind, waiting for a rich feast. I would have to sharpen my blade before we got to the next location where more women waited for its kiss. 
    
    Having your belly slit open so your guts fall out is not a good way to die as this girl was about to discover. Caught in the act of robbing a merchant on the duke’s lands her fate was sealed. Swift and deadly was the count’s justice. A post was installed just for her. It leaned to one side with her tied on the down side so she was leaning forward. She was securely tied to it with her bare body exposed for all to see and touch. As is the duke’s practice the good people were invited to have their way with her as long as they did not injure her beyond the usual minor things. By the time she was to be gutted her large tits were badly bruised and she had been poked and prodded all over. Her position prevented rape but that was about all she had been spared. I have a very fine knife I use just for such things. Her belly opened easily. I cut a circle starting just below her tits and running down to her pubic hair and back up to her tits. A hot iron stopped the bleeding. Then I pulled her guts out and let them fall in the dirt. She was dead right then but it would take a long time before her body got the message. She spent the night in agony and in the morning I cut her guts loose from her body. Sometime during the night a stray cur had eaten some of them which may have accounted for the loud screams I heard. Now her belly was just a hole in her body with flies buzzing in and out of it. She was begging for death but it would be some time coming. It was cool and damp enough so she would last quite a while before thirst killed her. She was young and strong. Perhaps she might find the release of death tonight or tomorrow, perhaps.

    I was never cut out to be a headsman. The axe felt strange in my hands. But the thing needed to be done and I was chosen to do it. She was threat to us all and had to die. Since we were limited in our means out choices were limited. Hang, strangle, stab, or behead. Beheading was decided on as the simplest and quickest. Now she was being held in place over a log. One person holding each arm, two securing her body, and one pulling her hair forward and out of the way and at the same time holding her head in position. She was cursing and screaming the whole time. The axe handle was wet with my sweat no matter how many times I wiped my palms. It was not even very sharp but it was the best we could do. My first blow went wrong badly. It landed in line with her shoulders. It made a nasty wound and may have broken her spine but it didn’t kill her. I tried again. This cut did hit her neck and did sever her sine but she was still living. A third landed between the first two. She was screaming in agony. I started just flailing away. I have no idea of how many strokes it took before her head finally came off nor do I know when she finally died. But at last her head was lying in the dirt. There was blood everywhere. Small pieces of flesh were scattered about. The stump of her neck looked like some animal had gnawed it off. Her face was up and her eyes looked accusingly at me as if to say why did I take so long to kill her?