Fantasy fiction; Ghost stories; Horror tales; Paranormal fiction; Short stories; Storytelling -- Fiction
My relative lifted his head, and sure enough there was the mound of
earth erected for the criminal already surrounded by soldiers, close to
which thronged the crowd. All the inhabitants of ----dorf were astir,
and in the crowd our Englishman now recognised his fellow students. A
cry of "_Der Henker! der Henker!_"[3] arose on all sides. Room was at
once made for the headsman and his companion, and Fritz's fellow
students, seeing their friend arrive in a Henker's cart, pushed their
way through the crowd to ask him all sorts of questions.
Fritz descended with difficulty after paying his host for his board and
lodging, and joined his companions. In a few minutes more the criminal's
cart arrived with the "_armer Suender_," or poor sinner, accompanied by
two priests. Loud execrations broke from the mob, amidst which the
wretched being descended from the cart and mounted the scaffold. A dead
silence reigned around. One of the priests whispered something
earnestly in the ear of the condemned, who was as pale as death, and he
took his seat on the chair prepared for him, while an expression of
savage delight appeared on the countenance of the headsman.
He felt all eyes were upon him. The terrible two-handed weapon was
raised aloft, and brandished over the Henker's head. One blow and the
head of the unhappy wretch was severed from his body. Loud cheering rent
the air as the Scharfrichter, holding the head of the criminal by the
hair, presented it to the public gaze. But at this moment a most
unexpected and revolting scene ensued.
Several persons from among the crowd rushed forward toward the scaffold
with mugs, which they filled at the fresh fountain of blood spurting up
from the severed neck of the criminal and drank off at a draught.
My ancestor sickened at so disgusting a spectacle, and demanded the
reason of some bystander. He was informed that those persons believed
human blood fresh from the neck of a beheaded criminal to be an
infallible remedy for epileptic fits. The superstition exists to this
day. Violent exercise after the draught, he was informed, was considered
necessary, in order to effect a cure.
The crowd began to disperse, and my ancestor, leaning on the arm of a
friend, also retired from the scene, disgusted with himself at having
been present at such a spectacle. Before leaving the spot he had time to
notice his host of the previous night start off in his cart towards home
with the promised football.
Our English student was laid up for some little time with his sprained
ankle, and some of his companions remained behind to keep him company,
while others moved onward.
The ankle being cured, my relative continued his foot tour with his
friends, and afterwards returned to the university, where he studied
hard till the time came round for an examination, which he passed, and
shortly afterwards returned to England.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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