Buckingham, together England's most capable bailiffs, scribes, and prison officers, was kept busy for a month, with a total of fifty-eight trials in thirty-seven days, and the county courts were almost at work, with thirty-five accused and a few witnesses in the village of Burton alone. The peasants and clergy were often able to talk on and on on a topic, and a confession often filled 10 or even 20 pages, and the magistrate forbade torture to avoid ridiculous confessions.

The trial was directed mainly at the true heretics, but such a thing was unheard of, and there was no such inquisition in this era, and the bishops who were in attendance engaged in endless discussions with the accused on certain details, and sometimes they were successful, but often not a single pagan could accept the mystery of the Trinity and the human and divine nature of Christ for a week.

After each trial, the recorder drafts an "original record" based on a draft of the record, which is given to the defendant and read aloud for the defendant to make changes to some of the wording.

The curfew had been strictly enforced, and the matter was the responsibility of the village chief of Theowulf, and now no one dared to call him the nickname "The Boneless", replaced by a new nickname - "Wolfheart", which seemed to praise his courage, but for a shepherd it was synonymous with a betrayer.

There was a tense atmosphere in the air, no one dared to pluck this delicate string, once the sword drank blood, it could never be recovered.

As the crowd began to get tired of waiting, the day of execution was approaching. It was not only the villagers of the surrounding area who came to see it, but the land of romantic vineyards and ancient monasteries that had become almost a pilgrimage center, and many of the nobles began to waver, and if this continued, the prisoner could probably become a martyred saint, and those who participated in the execution could be torn apart on the spot by the angry crowd!

However, all persuasion was categorically rejected, and the Lord of the Kingdom, His Majesty King Edgar, was determined, as if the execution of a mere heretic had become a matter of dignity to the throne itself.

"Will there be a rebellion?" The nobles talked in private, but the king saw watching the execution as a sign of loyalty, and it was impossible for him to leave privately.

Edric's brother Oswoolf was no longer worried, or he had seen that the king had no intention of prosecuting him for his crimes, even though the results of the trial began to show some signs of being extremely unfavorable to him. Now that he wanted nothing more than to wait quietly for the execution to end, and then return to his native land, this Merciasin felt more and more that court life was not at all suitable for him.

The king drank and feasted in the pleasant weather, and seemed not to be at all worried, and that night the chief of the guard Edwin himself went to the dungeon to make sure that the prisoners were safe before leaving.

"It's a good location!" Edgar seemed to be in good spirits, staring at a map without looking up.

"We also need to measure the depth of the water in the area...... "Dean Benedict replied.

"That's your business." The king was a little unexpectedly excited, but obviously absent-minded, and soon he talked about the material again.

After confirming the price of concrete and marble, Edgar suddenly brought up an old story: "Have you heard of Brother Elmer in Malmesbury?" ”

"Yes, he's been dead for almost twenty years." Abbot Benedict seemed to be well acquainted with the monk, "in the year that the comet that heralded our calamity appeared. ”

"I heard he used to fly in the sky?"

"I wasn't born then, Your Majesty." "But I have heard that Brother Elmer, having read the writings of the Greeks in his youth, decided to follow the example of Daedalus and Icarus, and after attaching wings to himself, he jumped from the tower of the Abbey of Malmsbury, and as a result he flew a furlong in the sky and fell to the ground, and it is said that Brother Elmer thought that he had forgotten to install a tail feather, and that was why he failed." ”

"I heard there's a road there that was built in the direction he flew?"

"Yes, it's called Elmer Avenue by the locals."

"Very well, if one day, we want you to test the flight, would you like to?" Edgar's question startled the dean, he was not a young Brother Elmer, he could still be safe if he fell to the ground, and if the king was not joking, such an experiment would have basically meant the end of his life.

"Yes......" replied Dean Benedict with some difficulty, "it would be my glory." ”

Naturally, such a conversation could not dispel the worries of the knight Edwin on the sidelines, and he was still shocked by the performance of the prisoner in the dungeon, he had heard the bishops read many dossier records, all kinds of rumors about that man, and even many inhuman details about him, but he still couldn't help admiring this man when he looked at him face to face. The old man's robes were torn like bat's wings, his surroundings were surrounded by emaciated rats and filthy cobwebs, the haphazardly painted bare walls were tattered and eerie, the place was the sun's grave, the little gate of hell, and yet he just stayed there, solemn and motionless, just engrossed in contemplation, as if there was a fire hidden in his pupils, lurking in the gloomy darkness for the time being.

After daybreak, the pyres were erected in the square, and many people, apparently having experienced the vigil, arrived there early in the morning, but fortunately the soldiers had already controlled the perimeter of the execution ground, and no one could get close to the gallows and the pyre.

The vassalage of the Church of England, whose windows look down on the living beings like the eyes of giants, and the vertical veiners that decorate the open space, may have been rebuked by a Roman Reformer and a Puritalist heretic, but today it is a symbol of true faith and virtue.

The presence of women in this sacred battlefield should not have been allowed, according to the opinion of some recalcitrant clergy, a gender that fears the pious monks and represents all the temptations and filthiness of the world.

The aristocrats who appeared one after another did not care about this, and one or two "game" and the soon-to-be-widowed wife of the village chief were enough to arouse the covetousness of some.

"What a stupid decision." Someone complained, "If we don't get pierced by the pitchforks of these barbarians today, we should be thankful for Destiny." ”

"Be careful, that's treason." Another voice reminded, "But let me say that we should at least put on thick armor and not stand in the middle of wild boars like a flock of grouse." ”

The turbulent crowd is indeed a daunting picture, especially when this crowd is fanatical in their faith. When Father Bilig appeared, the soldiers had to block it with their shields, like a facing a raging torrent.

The sight of the burner at the stake served as a kind of deterrent, and the king had ordered it to be built as majestic as an altar, and with a certain smell of death, so that people did not dare to get too close.

In the midst of the chaos and commotion, the prisoner walked step by step to the execution platform, his whole body blank, like a marble statue in the wind, only his eyes were still alive.

King Edgar, dressed in a purple robe, sat leisurely on a specially made high platform, surrounded by the nobles who accompanied him, and the neighing of horses and noisy voices almost drowned out the sound of the reading of the guilt, and many of the nobles of England were already earthy.

The first to be executed was Alden, the elder of Burton Village, whose body swayed on the gallows like a blow in the wind, and the long imprisonment had long since exhausted his energy, and the belated death penalty was a cruel mental torture, which the leader of the thieves who had been executed early had spared the torture.

Alden had an almost relieved smile on his face, and it was noted that Mrs. Hildegard did not even make a half-cross, but most eyes were focused on the wood from the stake.

Father Bilig wore only a short linen coat with his chest exposed, and a small bottle hanging from his neck, with no symbols or patterns visible.

The people who were holding their breath suddenly let out a scream, and a torch was thrown on the pyre in a beautiful arc through the air.

The perseverance of the condemned prisoner seemed to be astonishing, and the expected screams did not appear, and the flames scurried strangely, over the thighs, and above the chests with more air. Such a strong performance made the nobles on the high platform begin to wonder if this person was a martyr after all.

"Bang." It was as if something was shattering, and it was like a dragon roaring in the distance getting closer and closer, turning into a thunderous roar!

A small mushroom cloud burst open from the stake, and the pungent smell of sulfur filled the smoke and flames.

"The Devil...... Devil! Some began to scream, and more remained silent after the shock, the noise did not seem to be a hallucination, as the smell was still in front of the nose.

On the high platform, no one could notice that a smile appeared on the corner of the king's mouth: gunpowder, the weapon of Satan, appeared before the eyes of the world for the first time, and it was actually to shorten the pain of burning at the stake for a heretic. It's just that he didn't want the other party's suffering in the first place—now that any theological debates were no longer necessary, the stronger the will of this puritist saint, the more certain his demonic identity became. This time, Edgar was extremely satisfied with the burning speed of the granulated black powder, and he could then use the secret weapon he was developing, the Great Griffin, Edgar thought to himself before the stake scene of the burning of the bonesless Bilig.