Snake Eyes

I woke to the sound of Velvet sweeping the dust from the back porch and lay for a while listening to the stiff, rhythmic swish of her broom on the well-worn boards. Through the shutters, I could see the sun had begun to fall towards the earth, having slipped well beyond its zenith. Wanting only to sleep and sleep, I swung out of bed and rubbed my face to rouse myself. Outside, Velvet laid her broom aside and sat on one of the two rockers facing the field where the crater was. I approached and placed a hand on her shoulder. She laid her hand over mine.

“No one’s come back yet,” said she.

“We must be the first to waken.”

“No. It’s later than usual. You’ve slept near three hours.”

I checked the position of the sun and knew that she was right. Already I was sweating again for only a little of the heat had left the day. I sniffed the air and it smelled hot and dusty but clean.

“Come on,” said I.

In spite of the heat, I almost ran across the deserted field to the crater, with Velvet following not far behind me. The demon was gone and there were ruts in the ground leading out of the field.

“Spulicks! They’ve started without us!”

I ran back to the house to fetch the Ledger and without waiting for Velvet rushed over to Reginald Cleaver’s place where I was fairly sure everyone would be. The pathways of Long Lofting were empty, the cottages quiet but as I ran, the sound of a crowd up ahead grew louder. Cleaver’s place was set away from the centre of the village to minimise the stench of slaughter. Now, his house and abattoir were partially blotted out by the entire population of Long Lofting, about eight hundred souls. The quickest way to get to the front would be to skirt the crowd and Cleaver’s property and push in from the front.

A couple of minutes later I was squeezing between the wall of the abattoir and a smaller throng of onlookers. Reaching the front of the crowd I saw the source of the latest debate. Outside the abattoir was a hoist where Cleaver would shackle and lift larger animals before slitting their throats and allowing them to bleed out into the trough that collected the precious blood. Not a drop was ever wasted. The hoist was designed to handle even the largest cows and wild bison when we were lucky enough to hunt one down, but it was far too small for the demon. They’d got as far as chaining its ankles and raising them, but at full height, the hoist had merely lifted the demon’s legs off the ground.

“Keep those mules harnessed,” shouted Cleaver. “We’ll have to shift it to the bell tower. It’s the only place high enough for the job.”

“Now wait a moment,” said Leopold Prattle, puffing himself up to his full stature, “No one is going to perform a slaughter in the Great Father’s house.”

I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“It’s a flaming demon, Prattle. The Great Father’ll thank you for making his job a little easier.”

“When you’re ordained to speak on behalf of the Great Father, Delly Duke, you’ll be priest of this village. Some time after Hell freezes over, I should think.”

Everyone chuckled.

It could have been the heat haze but I thought I saw the demon twitch.

“There really is no other place but the bell tower, Priest Prattle,” said Cleaver, “And I think Mr. Duke does have a point. We’ll be doing the Great Father a favour.”

“What is wrong with you people? You don’t do favours for the Great Father. You love and you serve him. That is all.” Prattle sighed and sagged back into his more usual posture of burdened martyrdom. “However, as there is no other place to perform this task, I authorise you to use the bell tower on this one occasion.”

A happy shout went up from the worried crowd who thought that they were about to be cheated out of their feast in the eleventh hour by a religious technicality. At this rate, there were going to be a lot more faces in the church on the next holy day.

Cleaver lowered the demon’s feet and unshackled them. The crowd parted for the mule team and Rickett and Wiggery assisted the mule runner in re-hitching the demon. They dragged it away from the abattoir across the square to the church. The crowd followed, exhausted and hungry but full of anticipation. Half an hour later, having run a pulley system from the beams in the bell tower, Cleaver gave the signal and the demon was hoisted. This time they hauled it up until its head was hanging a stride and a half above the stone steps of church. Its wings hung outward and open, held at their tips quite willingly by Rickett and Wiggery. Its arms had been tied up behind its back to ensure that every limb would completely drain of its blood before slaughter. Its private parts, which had been a matter for public scrutiny since its arrival, hung down towards its belly and still drew stares and sighs from many of the women.

I grabbed Prattle by his skinny arm, immediately disgusted with myself for touching him, and said through clenched teeth,

“Are you sure you want them to do this?”

“A moment ago you were all for it.”