to do but close his eyes as the sword was raised above the executioner's head. He waited in agony for the terrible blow, and then there was a sudden hush in the crowd as the Baron's silver band fell from Wladek's elbow down to his wrist and on to the block. Am eerie silence came over the crowd as the heirloom shone brightly in the sunlight. The executioner stopped and put down his sword and studied the silver band. Wladek opened his eyes. He tried to pull it over Wladek's wrist, but he couldn't get it past the leather strap. A man in uniform ran quickly forward and joined the executioner. He too, studied the band and the inscription and then ran to another man, who must have been of higher authority, because he walked more slowly towards Wladek. The sword was resting an the ground and the crowd were now beginning to jear and hoot. The second officer also tried to pull the silver band off, but could not get it over the block either and he seemed unwilling to undo the strap. He shouted words at Wladek, who did not understand what he was saying and replied in Polish, 'I do not speak your language!
The officer looked surprised and threw his hands in the air shouting, 'Allah.' That must be the same as 'Holy God' thought Wladek.
The officer walked slowly towards the two men in the crowd wearing western suits, arms going in every direction like a disorganised windmill. Wladek prayed to God; in such situations any man prays to any god, be it Allah or the Ave Maria. The Europeans were still staring at Wladek, and Wladek nodded his head up and down frantically. One of the men in the dark suits joined the Turkish officer as he walked back towards the block. The former knelt down by Wladek's side, studied the silver band and then looked carefully at him. Wladek waited. He could converse in five languages and prayed that the gentleman would speak one of them. His heart sank when the European turned to the officer and addressed him in his own tongue. The crowd was now hissing and throwing rotten fruit at the block. The officer was nodding his agreement, while the gentleman stared intently at Wladek.
'Do you speak English?'
Wladek heaved a sigh of relief. 'Yes, sir, not bad. I am Polish citizen.'
'How did you come into possession of that silver band?'
'It belong my father, sir. He die in prison by the Germans in Poland, and I captured and sent to a prison camp in Russia. I escape and come here by ship. I have no cat for days. When stallkeeper no accept my rubles for orange, I take one because I much, much hungry.'
The Englishman rose slowly froin his knees, turned to the officer and spoke to him very firmly. The latter, in turn, addressed the executioner who looked doubtful, but when the officer repeated the order a little louder, he bent down and reluctantly undid the leather strap. This time Wladek did vomit.
'Come with me,' said the Englishman. 'And quickly, before they change their minds.'
Still in a daze, Wladek grabbed his coat and followed him. The crowd booed and jeered, throwing things at him as he departed, and the swordsman quickly put the next prisoner's hand on the block and with his first blow only managed te remove a thumb.
This seemed to pacify the mob.
The Englishman moved swifty through the hustling crowd out of the square where he was joined by his companion.
'What's happening, Edward?'
'The boy says he is a Pole and that he escaped from Russia. I told the official in charge that he was English, so now he is our responsibility.
Let's get him to the embassy and find out if the boy's story bears any resemblance to the truth.'
Wladek ran between the two men as they hurried on through the bazaar and into the Street of Seven Kings. He could still faintly hear the mob behind him screaming their approval every time the executioner brought down his sword.
The two Englishmen walked over a pebbled courtyard towards a lar,ge grey building and beckoned Wladek to follow them. On the door were the welcoming words, British Embassy. Once inside the building Wladek began to feel safe for the first time. He walked a pace behind the two men down a long hall with walls filled with paintings of strangely clad soldiers and sailors. At the far end was a magnificent portrait of