The Executioner's Wife

THE FIRST TIME

"You have really nice eyes."

He did not think she was talking to him. She was the last onlooker from the bloodthirsty crowd that had dissipated five minutes ago. The pallbearers had just collected the remains of the decapitated traitor and were taking her to the cemetery. Now it was just Alois, standing in the drying, sticky blood with his reddened axe in one hand. He had been trying to work up the energy to go back to his cold, empty house on the outskirts of town, where he knew he'd just sit, stand or sleep for the rest of the day. The house always seemed lonelier after executions, as if even the air inside didn't want to be around him. He was used to it, too used to dread it. What he didn't like, more than anything, was the quiet that he knew would be waiting for him.

But he hadn't expected this. The woman was looking right at him. For some reason, he turned around as if there were someone behind him. There wasn't. He turned back to look down at the woman. Her skin was soft and dark as a warm summer night, and a sheepish smile graced her face. She nodded to confirm; yes, she was talking to him. He blinked and said stupidly, "They're just brown."

"Not to me."

He blushed, thankful that his mask covered it. People didn't usually walk up after an execution to give him compliments. In fact, it was mostly the opposite. And they were never dimple-cheeked women with cute gaps in their smiles, telling him how they liked his eyes as he stood with blood on his feet. He didn't know what to say.

Then she became shy, as if she had done this on a dare and was now losing her nerve. She gave another smile that stopped his heart. "Th-that's all I wanted to say. Thank you."

And then she did an odd combination of a curtsy and a bow, and turned to run away, which was even more confusing than her initial comment. Alois took a moment, only a moment, to register the strange, curvy woman running away clumsily. Where was she going? Where had she come from? He realized he'd never actually seen her before. But he knew in an instant, without really thinking about it, that he didn't want it to be the last time.

"Wait," he called, and stepped off of the scaffold, down the same stairs that the condemned had taken to meet him that morning. The woman stopped, and turned, her hands clutching her skirts nervously. Alois walked up to her, peering down at her wide, dark eyes. She looked frightened. She really had lost her nerve. Did she think he was going to chop her head off?

He realized again, stupidly, that he was still gripping the axe. He put it down on the ground, gently, and rose again to his full height.

"Sorry. What's your name?"

"Lily," she said softly, so softly, he hardly heard it, but he felt it suited her perfectly.

He pulled down his mask, revealing his face to her. "Hi, Lily. I'm Alois," he told her.

Lily's hands released her skirts, as she took in his features, her eyes flickering over his face like she was seeing a painting revealed. She said shyly, "Hi, Alois."

He loved the way she said his name.

She pointed at the ground. "What's his name?"

Alois frowned, then looked down to where her finger was pointing. It was the bloodied axe, lying in between their feet, winking dully in the midmorning sun.

Alois chuckled incredulously. Lily laughed too. He felt the ache in his chest later that day, and realized it had been the first time he'd laughed in a long time.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe you could help me come up with one?"

She'd agreed, of course. That was how they ended up spending most of the day together, and several more days together, then not too long after, planned to spend all of their lives together. Every now and then, Alois would ask what had made her so bold to walk up and tell him he had nice eyes. He knew by then that Lily was so introverted and quiet around people she didn't know- but something had drawn her to step to the scaffold that day and compliment a stranger holding an axe covered in blood. What was it?

Every time he asked, she would only give a shy little smile, as if she were too embarrassed to admit the reason. He would ask and ask and ask, and tease and tickle her for an answer. And she would just laugh and laugh and laugh, and kiss him over and over, again and again, until he forgot the question.