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Review This Story || Author: Von Schmiser

Inquisition

Part 11

Part 11

Part 11


With another unfortunate victim of the barbarous efforts of the Church to suppress heresy set aside for further "questioning", one might think the supply of heretics and those frowned upon by those functionaries in charge would decrease in numbers.  The truth was there was a seemingly inexhaustible supply of accused.

As stated previously, all that was necessary to be detained and brought before the Inquisitor was an accusation by just about anyone regarding the charge of witchcraft, heresy or any of the so called "dark" practices  in which the ignorant peasants, and, just about everyone else, so fervently believed.

A fertile reservoir of suspects.

Consider Ilse  A very pretty young girl in her mid twenties.  Her father had been a hardworking serf who farmed a portion of a local landowners property.  He did very well for his lord and master producing considerably better than the other peasant workers.   I say he "had been" because he had died of one of the myriad of ailments common in those dark times.   He had no sons so it fell to Ilse, his eldest daughter, to continue his work along with those who had worked with her father.  She did well, and had even surpassed the results her father had achieved. 

This pleased the landowner but the other peasants were jealous of the success enjoyed by Ilse and her family. 

To top it off Ilse had lustrous auburn colored hair.  Red hair or any shade thereof was an uncommon rarity, especially in this part of the country.  It was commonly believed that one with red hair was was to be viewed with skepticism and distrust.  They were rumored to be in league with Old Nick himself.  Thus any good fortune they had was credited to the influence of The Prince of Darkness.

So....what would be more natural than to credit the success of this creature to Satan himself.

No sooner said than done, and Ilse quickly found herself in the nefarious clutches of the Inquisition in the person of our old friend Konrad of Marburg, Grand Inquisitor of Rome and the Holy See.

As previously enunciated, Ilse was of twenty something, it was not easy to accurately know ones age sometimes during the dark times of the middle ages.  Quite tall and of very pleasant proportions.  Well endowed as were many young peasant woman who worked the land, we would classify her as "busty'. Her complexion quite fair like most natives of
Northern Europe, though well tanned as a result of her hours in the sun.

Like most people of the time a devoted Christian and believer in ALL the church espoused and decreed as factual and true.  Like her father before her she was honest and would die rather than speak an untruth.  A fact she would come to regret very soon.

Ilse had been taken into custody and confined to a cell in the monastery in whose lower bowels the Inquisitors torture chambers where unspeakable horrors were commited.  Her own clothing had been taken away and a filthy shroud given her to cover her nakedness.  Her hands were shackled together, a short chain connecting them. An iron collar with rings attached to the sides, front and back was placed around her neck.  Another iron band circled her waist with rings located in the same locations.  A chain linked to the back of this band was fastened to the stone wall of the cell.  A shallow trough ran along one side through which water trickled.   This was her bath and toilet.  The cell was dark and dank and smelled of past unfortunate tenants.

No explanation was given her as to why she had been brought there or what would happen next.  Her questions were ignored.

Ilse languished in the cell for weeks.  Food was sparse and frequently rotten.  Water to drink, on occasion.  She spent her days sitting on the cold stone floor, and prayed.

One day as she sat on the stone floor her back to the wall, the heavy door to her cell banged open.  A guard of the dungeons entered and unlocked her chains from the wall.  Roughly grabbing her by the arm he lifted her to her feet and shoved her through the door saying, "His Grace wishes a word with you Witch."

"What do you mean witch?  I'm no witch! What are you talking about?"

"You will learn soon enough wench."

The frightened Ilse was propelled along the passageway. Down flights of stone steps and through a maze of passages they went, lower and lower into the bowels of the abbey.

Finally he stopped before a huge oaken door and opened it.  As he stepped through it he grasped her arm and drug her into a huge room.  The floor, walls and roof were of rough stone.

At the far end on a raised dais sat Konrad, Grand Inquisitor. Seated on his plush throne like chair behind a long table, a scarlet velvet cloth covering the surface and hanging to the floor on all sides.  Ilse had no idea who he was.  

For some time while in her cell she had had a terrible foreboding  that she was a prisoner of the dreaded Inquisition.

The Inquisitor glowered down at her. 

"I am Konrad of
Marburg.  Grand Inquisitor of the Holy Church of Rome!   You stand accused of witchcraft, sorcery, and conjuring. What have you to say?"

Her worst fears were coming true.  For some reason someone had accused her of
witchcraft.

"These accusations are not true sire.  I am not a witch nor am I a sorcerer nor do I practice conjuring. I am innocent of these  accusations."

"We have information you have been using your powers to enhance the output  of the land you work for the noble gentleman entrusted with the estate.  Confess your sins and it will go easier with you."

"But sire I am no witch.  I'm just a poor peasant working the land my father did before me."

"The miserable plot which you work bears more wheat and other grains than any others about you.  The only explanation can be that you are in league with that despicable fiend of the underworld.    Confess your involvement!"

"I swear Your Grace,  I have no connection to that devil of whom you speak"

"Lies!    CONFESS!  Abjure your part in his diabolic  machinations."

"It is a lie!  I have no allegiance to that fiend of hell!"

"Dungeon master!    Proceed with your work.  Maybe a bit of persuasion will alter this miscreants foolish obstinacy."

"With pleasure Your Grace."

He clutches Ilse's arms and starts to drag her across the stone floor.

"No, No.  What are you going to do?    Stop this!"

"We're just going on a small tour of the premises so you may see how some of our guests are occupied and how you too will soon be entertaining us.

He drug her by her shackled hands down a passage.

Ungodly screams were heard emanating from the chamber long before they reached it.  A young maiden was tied to a rough table, arms and legs spread.  The Countess was hovering over her stretched form, intent on her fiendish work.  A scream of horrific agony issued from the poor girls mouth.  Her body thrashed and shook.

"The Countess is flaying the skin from this damnable witch.  She has been stripping the skin from her living flesh for two days.  The Countess will keep her alive and screaming until she expires.   That should be at least another day.  Come along."

Ilse was trembling and shaking in revulsion at what she has just seen.  

In the next chamber a woman is secured to a wooden frame, her legs extended and spread about a shoulder width apart, strapped tightly to the end of the frame. He arms were stretched out to her sides and strapped to a crosspiece at elbows and wrists.  Her torso is arched over a wooden block under her buttocks, her head lower than her midsection.  A heavy leather apparatus is securely fastened to her face.  It covers her chin and most of her face save her eyes, which are darting back and forth in terror.  It is a funnel, the small end of which is embedded deep in her wide stretched jaws, sealing her mouth, the nosepiece has plugs with are inserted into her nostrils effectively blocking them.   Her only means to breath is through the wide flared funnel in her mouth. An acolyte is busy pouring the contents of a large jug of water into the funnel.  In order to breathe she must ingest the water into her stomach or suffocate.   It has been some time since she has gotten any air into her lungs and her body is twitching and thrashing against the straps holding her.  Narrow leather thongs are wound round her upper arms and thighs crisscross fashion.  Where the thongs cross short sections of wood have been inserted and are being twisted by 4 other acolytes.  As the wood sticks turn they tighten the thongs cutting into her arms and legs, the flesh bulging up between them.  She gasps for air and  shrieks in unfathomable agony as she is tortured.

"She will be forced fed water until her stomach bulges and she looks like she is with child.  Then her distended abdomen will be beaten with clubs to make her expel the water she has taken in.  When she has expelled it, the process will be repeated."

"My God that's inhuman!  How can you people DO such monstrous things?"

"She is an accused witch and will not confess her sins!   Until she does all means at our disposal will be employed to make her see the folly of denial.  Come."

In the next chamber a female subject was wailing in unmitigated agony.  Her head was enclosed in an iron cage by which she was suspended.  A band around her neck just below her chin, another under her nose. and one across her forehead.  These were joined together by bands running from the bottom band up the sides to join over her head.  A heavy ring in the top was chained to a beam behind her forcing her head to tip back, her mouth stretched wide by hooks on the cage .  Her wrists were secured in cuffs linked to the iron band about her waist. 

A stout wooden stake, two inches in diameter and imbedded in the stone floor, rose between her thighs.  It disappeared into her private parts and the lips of her vagina were stretched tightly around it's circumference.     She was being impaled!   Her legs were left unbound and  were scrabbling to gain purchase on the shaft piercing her body, to stop her inevitable,slow skewering.  The shaft was smeared with greasy animal fat.  Her feet slipped and slid over the instrument of torture as her own weight forced the terrible implement into her.   It had already penetrated through her genitalia and was worming through her lower bowel.   If she was lucky, when it had penetrated sufficiently the pointed end might pierce her heart and end the torture.   Unfortunately that seldom happened.. The pointed end was not sharply pointed, it was slightly rounded.  This allowed it to "push aside" internal organs so it could continue sliding between and around her vital organs.The usual result was that eventually the diabolical invader finally protruded from the victims mouth.  By this time the victims feet would have reached the floor.   They stood, skewered through but still alive.   Sometimes they lived for days in savage agony.

Gurd, the torture master, took her back to stand before Konrad once again. 

"Have you shown her some of the instruments of persuasion?"

"I have Your Grace."

"Well then my disciple of Satan, do you confess?"

Ilse was sobbing and trembling after seeing such inhuman tortures as she looked up to the merciless Inquisitor.

"I have nothing to confess sire.  I am not a witch."

Konrad glowered at the terrified girl and looking to Gurd,  "You may proceed then."

Gurd smiled and roughly grasped Ilse's wrist.

"Nooooooo! 


To Be Continued............


Review This Story || Author: Von Schmiser
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