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Madeline Martin

Madeline Martin

Heating Up History

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The Execution of Justice

The day of your execution has arrived. False truths by your peers have condemned you as a traitor and you have been graciously sentenced to beheading by your king.

Crowds of peasants press against you, their grubby hands catching the rich velvet of your finest clothes, the odor of their unwashed bodies thick in the air. Your friends are among them, eyes fixed on your alleged shame to dissuade others of their own implication. An act you yourself have committed in the past.

You concentrate on placing one foot in front of the other, the simplest of actions become difficult as your mind scrambles to grasp the reality of your impending fate. The scaffold became a permanent structure years ago, its stairs worn smooth by a steady march of the condemned. Adrenaline fires through your muscles as you begin that same ascent. You fight the primitive urge to flee.

There is nowhere to go.

Your footsteps pound in your ears like ominous drumbeats that fall silent as your shoes meet the straw lined platform. Chills rake down your spine. The straw is not meant to cushion your body, but to absorb your blood. The gold coin in your hand has grown hot beneath your slick palm. Hopefully the executioner will not take offense.

A black mask obscures his identity and highlights eyes that remind you of a clear summer sky. Your lips whisper forgiveness, but your mind screams for mercy as you press the coin to his fingers.

The time has come to give your speech. The one that will thank your gracious king for a painless death, the one that will spare your family his bloodthirsty wrath. The one you rehearsed until the darkness of your last night gave way to the gentle pinks of your last sunrise.

Silence descends upon the crowd and you force strength into your dry throat. Your limbs quiver with fear, but you will appear brave before them. The people remain quiet as the priest delivers your last rites. Though his voice is warm, his gaze offers only indifference. He believes you are guilty and somehow that realization leaves you hollow.

Your legs buckle as you kneel before the chopping block. Tension hums through the masses. Do they expect you to die as the Duchess of Salisbury, running and screaming as the executioner chases you upon the dais?

Hopefully your coin and forgiveness have purchased a swift death and not one requiring eleven strokes of the axe.

Air pushes in and out of your chest, yet you cannot breathe. You grip either side of the block and lower your neck to a surface gouged deep with mortal blows. Your heart threatens to escape the confines of your ribs as seconds turn into decades. Warmth spreads down your legs and pools at your knees.

A peasant leans against the wood frame below with a wild glint in her black eyes and a mad smile upon her lips. Dots of brown spatter the front of her filthy dress: dried blood. She has stood here before, staring at another victim as she stares at you now.

In these last moments before your death, life takes on incredible clarity and you savor it. The caress of a breeze against your face, the earthy scent of sun-warmed grass beneath the scaffolding, the low whisper of the axe as it cuts the air behind you. The skin along your back tingles in anticipation, yet something inside of you flickers with futile hope.

Perhaps you will be spared.

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Filed Under: Interesting History Tagged With: execution, short story on execution, tudor execution

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madelinemmartin

👩🏻‍💻USA Today Bestselling author of #historicalromance, mother of minions, watcher of cat videos, drinker of wine, poster of pics

When the heart on the back of your cat’s neck le When the heart on the back of your cat’s neck lets you know they love you 😻
I’m beyond excited to share my gorgeous new cove I’m beyond excited to share my gorgeous new cover for The Last Bookshop in London - a WWII Historical Fiction

The art team at @hanoversquarepress did such a gorgeous job on this cover! I love it so much!!! 

Inspired by the true World War II history of the few bookshops to survive the Blitz, The Last Bookshop in London is a timeless story of wartime loss, love and the enduring power of literature.

August 1939: London is dismal under the weight of impending war with Germany as Hitler’s forces continue to sweep across Europe. Into this uncertain maelstrom steps Grace Bennett, young and ready for a fresh start in the bustling city streets she’s always dreamed of—and miles away from her troubled past in the countryside.

With aspirations of working at a department store, Grace never imagined she’d wind up employed at Primrose Hill, an offbeat bookshop nestled in the heart of the city—after all, she’s never been much of a reader. Overwhelmed with organizing the cluttered store, she doesn’t have time to read the books she sells. But when one is gifted to her, what starts as an obligation becomes a passion that draws her into the incredible world of literature.

As the Blitz rains down bombs on the city night after night, a devastating attack leaves the libraries and shops of London’s literary center in ruins. Miraculously, Grace’s bookshop survives the firestorm. Through blackouts and air raids, Grace continues running the shop, discovering a newfound comfort in the power of words and storytelling that unites her community in ways she never imagined—a force that triumphs over even the darkest nights of war-torn London.

Link in bio!
Tomorrow is my official cover reveal for The Last Tomorrow is my official cover reveal for The Last Bookshop in London!! I'm so excited!! 😆
How to Tempt a Duke in Italian and Swedish - the l How to Tempt a Duke in Italian and Swedish - the latter just came in the mail! 😆 
I love how Harlequin Historical sends us copies of the translated versions of our books! It’s just such a cool thing to see and hold 🥰
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