The Governor strode along quiet cobblestone streets. For a year he had worked to turn Forkney from a blood-soaked haven of violence to a beacon of civility, and the results were beginning to show. But there was more to be done to eliminate the old ways, which brought him to his destination. From within the house came the screech of steel on stone. He knocked on the door.
George lifted his axe from the grindstone and observed the blade. It was a thing of beauty. None sharper in the land. Oh, the heads it had taken…though not lately. The last year had been a quiet time for executions, but his axe would always be prepared for the next head to roll.
His wife appeared in the doorway. ‘Guv’s here to see you. I’ll put the kettle on.’
In the living room, the Governor considered his words as the executioner entered. No one liked change, but no good came without it, and there must be sacrifices. Best to cut right to it.
‘George, dear fellow,’ he said. ‘You will be aware your services have been required less lately.’
‘It hadn’t slipped me notice, sir.’
‘Well, further to my commitment to a more civilised Forkney, I intend to cease them altogether.’
‘What? How’m I s’posed to execute someone without lopping off their head?’
‘You misunderstand. There will be no more executions at all.’
From the kitchen, Doris listened to the conversation with a rising heat equal to that of the kettle on the stove. Her husband might not have grasped the Governor’s meaning, but she had. He spouted about change and a better life for everyone, but that was a lie. No, the Governor meant to take away her husband’s livelihood, and with that, their home. It would not do.
‘I’m trying to change this town, man,’ continued the Governor. ‘Your barbaric ways have no place here.’
George finally understood. He looked at his hands—palms and fingers calloused with thousands of swings of his mighty axe. Now never to swing again.
‘But it’s all I know. What are me and the missus s’posed to do?’
‘I’m sorry, George. I need you to give me your axe.’
Into the living room stormed Doris, wild-eyed and brandishing that very weapon.
‘You can bloody well have it!’ she screamed.
Doris relished the look of utter disbelief on the Governor’s face as she swung the axe at his neck. His expression never changed as his head was cleaved off in one clean motion. Blood erupted from the open wound and the Governor’s head toppled to the floor. His body stood for a second, then slumped like a sack. Doris dropped the bloodstained axe and began to shake.
George took Doris in his arms and held her close. Over her shoulder he observed the carnage on the floor and noted in particular the clean line separating the Governor’s head from body. They were in for it now, yet he couldn’t help be a little bit proud.