Desolation Row

They’re selling postcards from the hanging
Where they’re painting the passports brown
Yeah, the beauty parlors filled with Sailors
The Circus is in Town

A small crowd gathered in front of Clifford Tower in York to watch the execution of Robert Aske. The man who was the leader of the Pilgrimage of Grace, the recent rebellion against his majesty.Usually hundreds of Men would gather to watch a common man die but not this time. This time only a handful of people showed up.

In the handful of people two men stood at the very bottom of the Scaffold stairs. They were Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk and the king’s best friend and Sir Thomas Moore the lord chancellor and the man who was recently elevated to the Duke of Sussex for his bravery during his quote unquote ordeal.

Ordeal meaning his strange unnecessary imprisonment by the traitor Boleyn.

Many men and women who witnessed the execution were surprised how Thomas reacted to this execution. Overall even if they were not at the execution many were shock that Sir Thomas Moore the most religious and pious man in the country of England showed no support to the rebels who were fighting for a religious cause. Instead when asked for his opinion on how the rebels should be dealt with Thomas simply yelled out:

“THEY ARE TRAITORS! EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM! THEY SHOULD ALL BE HANGED FOR THEIR DISOBEDIENCE!”

A reaction so unexpected of Moore that even Thomas Cromwell, a man who hated Thomas for his beliefs was shocked that he even responded in that way, he thought that Thomas would request that King Henry VIII have some mercy on the rebels.

But that was before the Ordeal. After the ordeal, Thomas’s heart became cold and unsympathetic. He wasn’t as spiritual and religious as he used to be and sometimes doubted there was a god because he wasn’t brought to salvation fast enough. The only spark of his old side that came out was he was around his family, the love of his life Katherine of Aragon and Harry the King whom he affectionately called his “Savior”. But even his love ones noticed a bit of change in heart.

Thomas nervously tapped his foot and looked ahead at the scaffold where a simple noose hung from the railing. Part of him wished that noose was waiting to encircle his own neck to end his mental pain.

“I am surprised you didn’t do anything to stop this monstrosity,” Brandon then whispered to Thomas jerking the humanist’s mind back to reality, “Since before your abduction you were willing to suffer Martyrdom.”

Brandon was the opposite of Thomas. He condemned every single action taken by this king to the rebels: even this one. As a secret papist he looked to Thomas as a hero for his bravery and his willingness to give up everything for his faith. But in recent days Brandon became disappointed in the Lord Chancellor who did not a thing to spare the rebels.

Thomas then looked at Brandon with menacing eyes.

“Well your grace,” Thomas said, “that side of me is dead, and that heretic traitor killed it. Just like in a few moments the traitor Robert Aske will be killed for his treason.”

Oh now here comes the blind commissioner
Well, they’ve got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tightrope walker
The other’s in his pants.

Both Brandon and Thomas remained silent for a few moments when suddenly Robert Aske was brought out in chains. He tried to walk bravely to the scaffold but suddenly started weeping as he walked. Thomas tried to block out the weeping as best he could. His body shivered in fear as it happened.

As Aske was carried up the scaffold stairs he started to weep harder.

“Please god, forgive me for my sins,” He cried out in a weeping begging voice.

Thomas closed his eyes feeling the tears watering. It was another minor detail of the event he was witnessing that triggered his nightmares once again.

And the riot squad, they’re restless
They need somewhere to go
As and I look out tonight
From Desolation road

Thomas woke up in the uncomfortable wooden chair. His body bound with ropes holding him in place. That’s how it been since his abduction. He wasn’t allowed to move freely. Only to relieve himself but that was only once a day. His eyes fluttered open. It didn’t take that long for him to realize that his captor was sitting in front of him.

He was silhouetted by the fireplace illuminated behind him, which sent more chills down the lawyer’s spine.

“My lord,” Thomas said trying to be brave, “what graces me with-“

He was interrupted by his captor giving him a vicious backhand across the face.

“You disobedient Fool,” He said, “I told you to not speak unless you are spoken to, yet you still don’t listen.”

Thomas brought his head to his chest and brought his head to his chest. He cast his eyes to the floor preventing himself to stare into the malice of his captor’s eyes. He heard the rustling of the chair indicating that his captor had gotten up from his seat.

“But to answer your question Sir Thomas I had a bad day,” His captor said walking behind Thomas, putting his hand on he bound man’s shoulder and finally bringing his mouth to the bound man’s ear, “You want to know why I had a bad day…. now you may answer.”

Thomas closed his eyes and cringed, but still tried to show his bravery.

“Why did you have a bad day my lord?” He whispered.

He heard a evil chuckle behind him. Then suddenly he felt his captor grip his hair and jerk his head back. Thomas winced.

“Because my daughter had a miscarriage…and now the King’s been ignorant of her…but it doesn’t matter now. Because what I have in store for you will make me feel so much better.”

“What are going to do to me?”

His captor released Thomas from his grip and dragged Thomas to from the back of his chair towards the fireplace. Thomas bit his lip knowing that he was going to be burned with some hot poker. Suddenly his captor rolled up Thomas’s right sleeve to his black doublet and his chemise. Thomas then closed his eyes feeling them water behind his eyelids.

“Please don’t do this,” He said trying to keep in all of his composure.

His captor didn’t listen; he just bent over to the fireplace and pulled out the hot poker. Thomas turned his head to the side; his captor wasn’t listening to his pleas. His tears involuntarily spilt from his eyes. The only thing he could do now was look to the higher being to help him.

“Kyrie, eleison; Christe eleison.” He kept whispering over and over again as his captor walked behind him with the hot poker.

His captor laughed and then said:

“God isn’t going to save you now Thomas More!”

And then Thomas felt the hot poker burning into the skin of his arm. He cried out in pain. He felt the poker burn in the letter H then E then R. Thomas’ eyes widened and started to wail harder.

The word HERETIC was being burned into his arm, and was to remain there forever.

Cinderella, she seems so easy
“Well it takes one to know one,” she smiles
And she put her hands in her back pockets
Bette Davis style
Now in comes but Romeo moaning
“You belong to me I believe”
And someone says, “you’re in the wrong place my friend
You better leave”

And as Robert Aske was pushed off the ledge of the to the scaffold to hang off the side of Clifford tower, Thomas collapsed to the ground. He began to weep violently.

“KYRIE, ELEISON; CHRISTE ELEISON!” He screamed, “I’M NOT A HERETIC!”

The people in the crowd except for Aske’s family adverted their eyes from the dying man to the broken version of Sir Thomas Moore weeping on the ground.

Thomas felt the pains in his chest. He could barely even breathe. His body shook violently. He struggled to find the air to breathe. A crowd then surrounded him.

“PLEASE STOP HURTING ME!” He screamed again

He felt a presence kneel beside him and rub his back.

“EVERYONE MOVE BACK HE NEEDS SOME AIR,” A voice who Thomas immediate recognized as the Duke of Suffolk’s, “AND DAMNIT SOMEONE FETCH THE PHYSICIAN!”

And the Only Sound that’s left
When the Ambulances go
Is Cinderella Sweeping up
On Desolation Row

Henry sat at his desk writing in his journal. He did that often ever since he finished his epic tale about Anne Boleyn and the mess she brought upon England and Christendom, which he entitled The Perks Of Being A Monarch. Also after his dear friend and Mentor Sir Thomas Moore suggested he continued his story. He carefully wrote the words pertaining to his thoughts:

Robert Aske was hanged today. Apparently they flung him off Clifford Tower in York. I don’t know whether to feel remorse or be glad about it. He was a pretty nice guy I had to admit my dear reader but he did betray me. And letting him go would be like letting the traitor Boleyn go for what he did to poor Thomas. Speaking of which we still haven’t put that bastard on trial.

Also speaking of poor Thomas, he is currently at Aske’s execution with Brandon, against my judgment. I have a funny feeling that the hanging will trigger memories of his time in unlawful captivity.

The door then opened and a flustered and sweaty Charles Brandon came rushing into the room.

“Henry,” He said, “Sir Thomas is having another panic attack.”

Henry lifted his hand up to Brandon.

“Hold on let me write this last sentence.” Henry said.

And it did!

Now at Midnight all the Agents
And super-human crew
Go out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
They gonna bring ‘em to the factory
Where the heart-attack machine
Is strapped across their shoulders
And then the Kerosene

Thomas sat on the floor in the corner of his office. He hugged his knees close to his chest and sobbed into them. He tried to get his mind off it but to no avail. His mind trailed though to another memory:

“Miserere mei Deus Secundum magnam; misericordiam tuam et; secundum multitudinem miserationum tuarum dele initatem meam.” Thomas whispered in perfect Latin.

He clutched the rosary his son gave him that Christmas in his hands which were bound behind him at the wrists. His eyes watered beneath the black cloth tied around his eyes. He knew time was running out. Someone either him or the king his Harry, would be dead by the end of this night. He hoped it was him. He wouldn’t live with himself if Harry died because of him. But beneath the fear and the confusion Thomas had some glimmer of hope left that they would both make it out alive.

He knew Harry would rescue him no doubt… but at what cost. He heard the door to the basement open wider. Thomas winced and clutched his rosary tighter. Would it be another beating? Or someone to save him? He started whispering his prayer faster:

“Libera me de saguinibus Deus salutis meae exultabit lingua mea inustitiam tuam. Domine labia mea aperies et os meum adnuntiabit lanudem tuam.”

Suddenly he felt a hand touch his shoulder. Another hand moved to the back of his head to gingerly undo the blindfold bound around his eyes. Thomas shivered and then winced slamming his eyes shut. His lips were quivering as he whispered:

“Please, don’t hurt me anymore I don’t know much more my body could handle it.”

He heard a familiar comforting laugh. A laugh that he hadn’t heard in two years and then a familiar voice said:

“Now Owen why would I want to hurt you?”

Thomas’ eyes fluttered open. He smiled.

“Harry you came to save me, I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

Is brought down by the Castles
By the Insurance Men who go
Check to see if no one is escaping
Desolation Row

“Thomas?”

Thomas brought his head up from his knees to look at Henry who smiled down at him.

Thomas sniffed and wiped his tears with the back of his hands.

“I would tell you to leave but you’re the king,” Thomas whispered.

Henry ran to Thomas’ side and hugged him. Thomas sobbed into the king’s chest, like he had the King had done with him many times before.

“It’s alright now, remember you are alive and that’s all that matters”

Henry ran his hand through Thomas’ hair and kept patting his dear friend and mentor on the back.

Like Thomas had been Henry’s crying shoulder many times before, now it was Henry’s turn.

The roles had for now reversed.

Cause right now I can’t read too good
Don’t send me no letters, no
Not unless you gotta mail them
From Desolation Row