The Sawyers:

Or, A Tale of Two Halves (PART II)

WARNING: THIS IS A GRISLY STORY. READER DISCRETION RECOMMENDED.

From Tall Trees Short Stories, vol21. © Gabriel Hemery

---

If you Missed Part 1: Under-Dog, read it here

PART 2: TOP-DOG

Mr Frederick Ash?’ The priest stood in the doorway, a prayer book in one hand, his broad hat in the other, peering into the gloom. He was unusually tall, and had to stoop as he entered, only to remain doubled-over, holding back his retching as he stumbled down the short flight of stairs.

‘By gad sir, this is a hell, and you must be common with it!’

‘I am very grateful to you for coming Father.’

‘It is the afternoon of the Sabbath, lest you forget.’

A guard entered, carrying a small wooden stool, which he dropped and kicked towards the priest, who had taken no more than two steps further into the cell. An open sewer writhed between priest and prisoner, carrying forth the effluvium of the entire population of Newgate prison.

‘No Father, I have been marking all of the 22 days that I have been held here in the bowels of this place.’

‘Indeed, I imagine you have little else to keep you occupied.’ The priest gathered his black cassock before lowering himself onto the tiny stool, placing his hat carefully upon his mountainous knees. He opened the well-thumbed book and looked across to the man opposite. ‘It is the tradition, on the last Sunday before execution, for a priest to visit the prisoner to deliver religious ministrations.’

‘Father, I wish to speak with you—’

‘Let us pray first, shall we? ‘Remember not, Lord, our iniquities, nor the iniquities of our forefathers; neither take thou vengeance of our sins; spare us, good Lord, spare thy people, whom thou hast redeemed with thy most precious blood, and be not angry with us for ever.’

The priest closed the prayer book with a snap. ‘You will no doubt wish to repent of your sins. It is common by those faced with the ultimate resignation before God, so that his judgement may be just, and your composure secured for—’

‘No father, I do not.’

‘You should repent, Mr Ash, so that you may cast yourself with an entire dependence upon the mercies of God, through the merits of our Saviour and Redeemer Jesus Christ.’

‘Father, I wish not to offend you, for I am a firm believer, but I desire no more prayers.’

‘I think, my son, that you should remember your situation before God, and reach a good temper of mind.’

‘I understand that Father, but I wish first to confess to the truth. This will be the truth, not as it was told in court and the papers, but a truth now hidden by a heinous crime. Afterward, then perhaps you may offer your last prayer.’

The prisoner stood, shuffling into the only spot of light in the cell. For the first time the priest had a good look at him; he was considerably relieved to hear the shackles rattling securely for he was gazing upon a giant of a man. The sleeves of his filthy grey tunic bulged tightly round his arms, while his hands, which grasped onto the chains, would easily throttle a boar. Reports of his violent crime in the papers had caused a sensation, and now here he was, face-to-face with a sylvan version of the grim reaper. One cartoon in The Morning Mail had shown him as such: standing with his tree trunk legs astride the pit of hell, his bloodied two-handled ripping saw in one hand, and his terrifying gaze directed into the eyes of the reader.

‘Give him strength against all his temptations and heal all his distempers. Break not the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax,’ invoked the priest.

‘Father, do not fear me, for whatever stories you may have read, I am not that man. I am the victim of a cruel injustice, forged by a cunning evil. I could never imagine the evils that I have been accused of, much less act them out with the people I love.’

The priest held his tongue, taken aback by the eloquence of the brute before him.

‘I had much respect for my under-dog, Billy Evans, and had watched him grow into a strong young man. I would never have treated as him as he described, nor could I imagine the cruelties of which I have been accused. The pig story … I raised my own pigs at home for the table, and until then I cared for them as part of my family. I would never act out such horrors.’

‘Yet, you have been found guilty my son, of a wicked crime. It is not for me to judge you, but I fail to understand any motive for what, you say, are lies.’

‘You may not wish to hear the truth Father, but I already have one foot in Deadman’s walk, so I have nothing to lose in telling it. That young man was so clever and devious, and such were the lies he spun, it will be no wonder when he takes upon the stage.

‘You see Father, Billy Evans was attempting to bribe Sir Richard Grace. He had caught him in the woods mollying with a man. He wrote him a crude note describing what he had seen, and that he would go to the rozzers with it. He said he had a witness too. The sum of his asking was one thousand pounds!’

‘By gads, that’s preposterous! Sir Richards was most upstanding, a married man with a fine country estate, and a respected businessman. He would never … never go mollying—’

‘He was very fearful of the prospect of a 10-year imprisonment, and the loss of his reputation.’

‘But how do you know all this, I mean on what basis do you—’

‘It was me Father, I was Sir Richard’s Under-Dog, his bitch. He was my beautiful … my fortuni lover. He was so handsome. He always wore his long dark ends tied in a ponytail, and I lived for the soft touch of his fambles, the gaze of his sparkling yews. I loved him. And he … he loved to dominate me.’

The priest was agog, barely concealing his curiosity. ‘Was he really, “so”, as you say?’

‘We would meet regularly in the coppices after dark, enjoying our illicit charver. I know you will think this to be unnatural and sinful, but we wished only to celebrate our love, and to shield his wife from the pain of knowing.’

‘If what you say is true, why then did you murder your … your lover?’

‘I did not Father. Imagine instead, if you will, that it was not I who had a fight with Sir Richard, but my wicked accuser. Sir Richard told me that he would offer Billy Evans some money, but not the ridiculous amount he had asked for, and then dismiss him from his employment. I can only imagine that the meeting did not go so well, for when I … I—’

‘Mr Ash, you do not have to continue.’

‘On the contrary Father, you must hear me out … I mean, if you will.’ Frederick Ash wiped his eyes on his sleeve and let out a long tremulous sigh.

The priest adjusted his cassock, and closed his prayer book, clasping it tightly against his chest. It offered a small protective shield against the giant sylvan devil.

‘Often, I would walk to work in the company of Jeffrey, one of the farm hands, who had a tied cottage next to mine, and so it was that morning. The farm buildings were a little past our saw pit, and he was on his way to them, but still in ear shot, when I discovered the gruesome scene. Hearing my shout, he came running back and was a witness to the scene as I discovered it.

‘But no matter Father, all this was said in court, and none was believed. I said only what I saw and had no alibi to preserve me.’

‘Yet Mr Ash, I do not understand why you did not share with the court these things you are telling me? You would receive 10 years for unnatural acts, but surely that would be preferable to the ultimate punishment you face, and justice would be served?’

‘I could never in public tell the truth about Sir Richard. I would serve my years, yet it would tear his family apart. And so, I have kept my tongue.’

‘And what about Billy Evans?’ asked the priest.

‘Ever since the day he discovered us, he started his accursed plotting. He became unbearable to work with, and most disrespectful. I know now that he was very capable of the crime by himself. Forgive me for the details Father, but by standing on the transoms he could have sawn through my lover’s … his dear soft body easily without the need for an under-dog.’

‘And how did he expect to get away with it?’

‘He had no need to clean himself after the crime, nor find an alibi, just recline there and wait to be discovered. He would not only get revenge on Sir Richard, but on me too. It was a crime of hatred to our nature and avarice, in equal measure.’

‘Now that three Sundays have passed, my son, there is no possibility of changing the course of justice,’ stated the priest. ‘Do you want me to make a record of your admissions of truth?’

‘No, Father. By the grace of God, please protect his family.’

The priest waited, as tears fell freely from the stricken man before him.

‘You may perhaps go to the rozzers and mention to them the silver ring which Billy Evans has taken to wearing. A small justice may be done if that despicable man were to be jailed for theft.’

‘Dearly beloved, it hath pleased Almighty God, in his justice, to bring you under the sentence and condemnation of the law. You are shortly to suffer death in such a manner, that others, warned by your example, may be the more afraid to offend; and we pray God, that you may make such use of your punishments in this world, that your soul may be saved in the world to come.’

---

From Tall Trees Short Stories, vol 21.

Gabriel Hemery. Tall Trees Short Stories, vol21. Woodwide Works, 2021.