The Sword of Calais: The Executioner of Anne Boleyn

By Paul Meachair

1536. Henry VIII schemes to be rid of his wife to marry another. Anne Boleyn is found guilty of her sins and the king sends to Calais for Europe’s best sword executioner.

Jean Rombaud will be paid 100 crowns, a huge sum which will help him establish the fencing school he has always desired. With Raoul, his nephew, they are also requested to escort a noble’s daughter, Roselyn back to London from Calais. A bond develops between Raoul and Roselyn on the journey but arriving home she is shocked to discover her marriage has been arranged to Nigel, who she hates.

After Anne’s execution, there are celebrations for Henry’s betrothal. Roselyn persuades Raoul to join with her in merry-making. She drinks too much, Raoul takes her home but is accused of kidnapping her by Nigel, they fight and Nigel is badly wounded.

Raoul is sentenced to death. Nigel’s father is an old foe of Jean. They once fought a duel over Nigel’s mother, now old wounds are opened and they challenge each other once more.

Jean is given an ultimatum by Thomas Cromwell. If he wins the duel, he must become the executioner of his nephew.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Oct 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781398465039

Paul Meachair

Paul Meachair has had a varied career. He went to sea at 16, travelled and photographed much of the world. He lived in Gibraltar, managing a gymnasium then moved to Greece for two years. Later, he worked in Australia a year. Returning to the UK, he studied photography and media having illustrated article success and exhibitions. He began writing full time some time before retiring, sports psychology, a couple of novellas along with script writing and is about to finish another historical novel.

Book preview

About the Author

Paul Meachair has had a varied career. He went to sea at 16, travelled and photographed much of the world. He lived in Gibraltar, managing a gymnasium then moved to Greece for two years. Later, he worked in Australia a year. Returning to the UK, he studied photography and media having illustrated article success and exhibitions. He began writing full time some time before retiring, sports psychology, a couple of novellas along with script writing and is about to finish another historical novel.

Copyright Information ©

Paul Meachair 2022

The right of Paul Meachair to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398465022 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398465039 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2022

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

20230216

Chapter 1

A perfectly balanced execution sword drops into the sea. Light near the surface shimmers on the blade as it descends down, then drifting deeper it begins to darken, until it finally disappears into overwhelming darkness.

Standing in the darkness, the condemned prisoner can feel his heart rapidly beating as it bangs against his chest. He can hear it echoing in his ears over the muffled clamour made by the hostile crowd who have been waiting outside for hours. The crowd who are there to cheer as they watch him die. With dread he hears the metallic sound of an iron bolt being pulled back, then the squeak of rusty hinges as the heavy, iron-studded wooden door before him swings open. He is temporary blinded by the sudden blaze of sunlight as the sound of the braying crowd increases.

He feels the grip of panic in the pit of his stomach as two mailed soldiers, one either side, grab hold of his arms and step forward pulling him outside, beyond the doorway into the crowded square of malevolent townspeople, spitting, pointing and shaking their fists. They slowly stand aside to allow his stumbling passage. His limited movement caused by the heavy chains and manacles securing his wrists and ankles.

Looking ahead beyond the crowd, the stark form of the scaffold brings on a quickening of his heart beat. As he is being dragged toward it, he looks around for an escape, knowing escape is not possible, no one will help him. To one side he sights the busy food stalls which have been set up for today’s occasion, even a Punch & Judy booth and to the side of it, a young entertainer, Vincent, who, with extended arm, is about to swallow the sword he is brandishing. Vincent is positioned just in front of his father, a magician, who is taller and heavier in build, wearing a hooded robe, he grins as he seems to conjure a pigeon out of nowhere.

The condemned reaches the scaffold. With bowed head he looks down to watch his footsteps as they automatically ascend the narrow stairway. As he nears the top, he raises his head to see first, a pair of boots, slowly looking up as muscular legs are revealed, then a stocky body of medium height radiating masculinity, to be finally confronted by the grim-faced, masked executioner. Jean Rombaud is waiting for him, a grave expression in his bright grey eyes.

The prisoner nervously looks around the straw-covered decking. To one side a priest stands, about to commence the prayers that will accompany him into the next world, then looking to the other side, the prisoner for an instant, becomes gripped by sheer terror that paralyses him when he catches sight of the executioner’s sword, casually being swung from side to side by Rombaud’s assistant Raoul. Raoul’s high forehead is fringed by dark hair above sharp features, a sparse beard growing that shows his younger age and his piercing blue eyes that study the prisoner resentfully.

Aware he is in full view on the scaffold, he hears the angry crowd behind him become more vocal, shouting their abuse at him. Suddenly, the executioner stands before him. He glares at the condemned, straight into his eyes and with a slow, cruel smile tells him, ‘Here we say goodbye.’

Placing a hand on each shoulder, Jean Rombaud slowly turns him around to face the crowd, then presses down on his shoulders to get him into a kneeling position where his knees feel the hardness of the decking. Numb with terror, the condemned man’s attention is suddenly attracted by a bright flash over to one side. Vincent the sword-swallower is now going through a fire-eating routine, spitting out orange flames like a dragon.

To the side the priest begins to chant in Latin. The prisoner can picture behind him, the assistant quietly passing the damned sword, hilt first to the executioner. A hush comes over the attentive crowd which only amplifies the noise of his rapidly beating heart and anguished breathing. He senses a sudden, overwhelming feeling of remorse and guilt for his crimes. Tears well up, but he is aware this self-pity is far too late. From the corner of his eye, he sees the assistant suddenly appear and flick a black handkerchief to attract his attention. At the same moment, as if as one, the crowd draws in a breath, there’s a swish sound, then eternal blackness.

The crowd surges forward as it roars in approval. Jean Rombaud removes his mask with a flourish, revealing his mane of steel-grey hair above his tanned, chiselled face, while Raoul his nephew and assistant, has to rush forward to catch the rolling head before it flips over the scaffold’s side. He catches it just in time and he raises the head, hanging from its hair, his arm stretched skywards victoriously, to present to the applauding, cheering crowd.

Vincent, is now juggling three clubs. Raoul calls over to his brother and pretends to toss him the blood dripping head, ‘Vincent, juggle this!’

Distracted, Vincent fumbles, misses a club and all three clatters to the ground to his annoyance and the crowd’s laughter.

Louis, the magician removes his hood, steps forward with the hint of a smile on his strong-featured face, steel hair pulled back thickly from his forehead. He displays