Edward Hind stood at the back of the cart, staring contemptuously at the crowd that jeered and threw rotten fruit at him. Dressed in his customary grey breeches and tan shirt, he rattled the shackles around his wrists and ankles and felt the slow rain weeping from above. With his coffin behind him, the executioner in front and a parson at his side, Hind knew it was his last morning alive. Although he felt sick, he attempted to appear nonchalant, hiding his fingers that twisted around each other.
A gaunt-faced sergeant commanded the soldiers who escorted the cart. Mainly young men or drink-sodden veterans, they had joined the army to escape poverty or in a moment of drunken bravado. Now the youngsters wondered what happened to the glory the recruiting sergeant had promised, while the veter
