To Buy A Wife

Chapter 1

Hudson couldn't decide which was worse, the stench of the rotting heads on the wooden spikes, or the flies that buzzed around his face and tickled his nose. He made a swipe at the filthy insects—the flies then. A hot breeze blew in from the east, kicking up the red dust and carrying the stink of decomposing flesh his way. He breathed through his mouth. Nope, had to be the scent.

An old man, bent over and with one shoulder higher than the other, shuffled into him. With a reflex sharpened from years of base-born survival, Hudson had his ax off his back and blade connecting to the protruding bone on the man's wrist.

"Release the pouch, old man, or the hand comes with it."

The man's twisted digits unfurled. Hudson pushed him away, but was careful not to knock him down. In a crowd this size, a man that age might not get back up. Hudson strung the pouch around his neck and tucked his life savings under his shirt. An execution always drew an audience, and an audience always had its share of thieves looking for an easy mark. Things must be desperate if the pick pockets thought him easy.

Hudson stretched to his full height and peered over to where the crowd was the thickest. An execution block had been set up in the middle of Portal City, severed heads decorated the tall, spear-like poles along the back. Other than a few dirty children, there were only men for as far as he could see. And all were here for the same purpose he was—to buy a wife. Twice a year the prisons were emptied, and any person with enough gold could buy a wife or a laborer. Except he'd been late, his horse had thrown a shoe, and the auctions of the female prisoners were over. The only thing left now, was the execution.

Today the crowd was more rabid than usual. Hudson had heard the whispers that floated on the stench of unwashed bodies and excrement. Woman...Beautiful woman...Beheading.

If there were truth in those words, then this would be the first female execution since he'd been a child—thirty some odd years ago. Women could get away with murder—most had. With only the rich able to afford a wife and the stillborn rate of female babies on the rise, women were a commodity and everybody wanted one.

Hudson hated Portal City. It was no coincidence that the stronghold of the Elders' power was in the worst cesspool of humanity. Wanted and starving men alike lurked behind every shanty hut waiting to escape to the one place Elder law didn't reach—Dark Planet. But Hudson wasn't wanted or starving, and since Elder law stated only married men could hold land, this cesspool of humanity was Hudson's best chance of getting a wife.

Another body, layered with equal parts dirt and whiskey, jostled him. Hudson jostled him back, glad to be head and shoulders above most of the men. A murmur rustled through the crowd, and the black crows that feasted off the rotting heads flapped their wings in response. A solemn Elder in a long black robe appeared on the platform, an official document in hand—the Judge. The Executioner came next, his face lost in the deep hollow of his hood, a powerful ax in both hands.

The prisoner was last. The whispers of woman were true, but those of beautiful were not. Two steely men secured her by each arm. Her hands were bound at her back, face wild in a mass of tangled hair. A hush settled over the men as the Elder in black stepped up and addressed the crowd.

"By the power invested in me by the Global Community and The Way, I sentence this prisoner to death by beheading. She's been heard and found guilty by the judicial Elders for the crime of murdering her newborn infant."

An anguished "no" sounded in the silence. Her husband? At least someone would weep at her passing. Hudson guessed a crazed wife was better than a dead one. The Path knew he would take a little crazy to get a woman fat with his child. He maneuvered himself closer to the platform to determine if the woman was worth saving. Her hair was marked with wide bands of white. Her eyes were dark and sunken deep into a papery face. Grooves emphasized the hard line of her mouth. Not many good breeding years left, if any at all. With the cost of survival high, there was no room for charity. Everyone had to pull their own weight. It was a shame when a woman grew past childbearing age that she ceased to be useful. But he didn't make the rules, he just survived them. To Hudson, it was better to have a quick death then a slow one of starvation.