The first jetti placed a nail on the crown of the victim’s bare head. The nail was of black iron and had a six-inch shank that was topped by a flat head that was a good three inches wide. The man held the nail in place with his left hand, then looked up at the balcony. The doomed soldier, feeling the touch of the iron point on his scalp, called for forgiveness. The Tippoo listened for a second to the soldier’s
desperate excuses, then pointed a finger at him. The Tippoo held the finger steady for a few seconds and the soldier held his breath as he dared to believe he might be forgiven, but then the Tippoo’s hand abruptly dropped.
The jetti raised his right hand, its palm facing downwards, then took a deep breath. He paused, summoning his huge strength, then he slapped the hand fast down so that his open palm struck the nail’s flat top. He shouted aloud as he struck, and at the very instant that his right hand slapped the nail so he snatched his left hand away from the long shank which was driven hard and deep into the soldier’s skull. It went so deep that the nail’s flat head crushed the prisoner’s black hair. Blood spurted from under the nail as its shank slammed home. The jetti, stepped away, gesturing at the nail as if to show how much strength had been needed to so drive it through the thick bone of the skull. The traitor still lived. He was babbling and shrieking, and blood was spilling down his face in quick lacing rivulets as he swayed on his knees. His body was shaking, but then, quite suddenly, his back arched, he stared wide-eyed up at the Tippoo and then fell forward. His body shuddered twice, then was still. One of the six chained tigers stirred at the smell of blood and padded forward until its chain stretched to its full length and so held it back. The beast growled, then settled down to watch the second man die.
The Tippoo and his entourage applauded the first jettfs skill, then the Tippoo pointed at the wretched Hindu merchant. This second prisoner was a big man, fat as butter, and his gross size would only make the second demonstration all the more impressive.
The first jetti, his execution successfully completed, fetched a stool from the gateway. He set it down and forced the fat, weeping merchant onto its seat. Then he knelt in front of the chair and pinned the man’s manacled arms down tight against his sagging belly so that he could not move. The chair faced
the Tippoo and the kneeling jetti made certain he stayed low so that he would not spoil his master’s view. ‘It takes more strength than you would think,’ the Tippoo remarked to Gudin, ‘to drive a nail into a skull.’
‘So Your Majesty has been kind enough to inform me before,’ Gudin answered drily.
The Tippoo laughed. ‘You do not enjoy this, Colonel?’
‘The death of traitors is ever necessary, sire,’ Gudin said evasively.
‘But I should like to think you derive amusement from it. Surely you appreciate my men’s strength?’
‘I do admire it, sire.’
‘Then admire it now,’ the Tippoo said, ‘for the next death takes even more strength than the nail.’ The Tippoo smiled and turned back to look into the courtyard where the second jetti waited behind the prisoner. The Tippoo pointed at the merchant, held the gesture as before, then dropped his hand abruptly. The merchant screamed in anticipation, then began to shake like a leaf as the jetti placed his hands against the sides of the merchant’s skull. His touch was gentle at first, almost a caress. His palms covered the merchant’s ears as his fingers groped to find a purchase among the skull bones beneath the victim’s fat cheeks. Then the jetti suddenly tightened his grip, distorting the plump face, and the merchant’s scream became frantic until, at last, he had no breath left to scream and could only mew in terror. The jetti drew breath, paused to concentrate all his force, then gave a great shout that made the six tigers leap to their feet in alarm.