The Torturer's Apprentice

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The Torturer's Apprentice

Part III

by

von Hentzau

It was somewhat after mid-day when the door to Annelise's cell opened and two masked torturers entered. They pulled her to her feet, pulled her arms behind her back and placed manacles on her wrists. Then they escorted her from the dungeon and across the courtyard to the tower where Fra Gropius' torture chamber had been established. At the door to the chamber they removed the manacles, and then removed her shift so that she was naked as they led her into the chamber.

Inside the chamber the Prince and the Friar awaited, engaging in conversation. They stopped and watched as the torturers positioned Annelise a few feet away from them and then withdrew to take up positions a convenient distance away.

"So, good Friar," the Prince asked, "how shall we start? The rack? The strappado? Hot irons?"

"All in good time, m'Lord," Fra Gropius replied. "First things first. It's always best to be certain of what you're dealing with. Tell me, is there any evidence that our subject here has been involved in witchcraft?"

"None that I know of," the Prince said, after thinking a bit. "I merely requested a suitable subject be brought to us. I didn't think to be more specific."

"Then, m'Lord, may I suggest that today's lessons focus upon detecting a witch and the presence of demonic influences. It is a useful study, since much of our work has always dealt with this plague of witchcraft which seems to be never ending. Let us say Annelise has been brought before you under suspicion of engaging in witchcraft. What will you do?"

"I suppose I would subject her to the ordeal by water?"

"Very good, m'Lord," the Friar replied, a smile spreading across his broad face. "You are familiar with the ordeal by water, or water trial as we sometimes call it?"

"I've observed the water trial, but I've never supervised one."

"Good, good," said the Friar. "You shall have a chance to then to participate directly as we conduct an investigation. However, there are some preliminary action you, as a witchfinder, would normally perform before moving on to the trial proper."

The Friar approached Annelise. He stopped beside her and motioned the Prince to come forward.

"First, we inspect for the Devil's Mark," he said. "The subject must of course be completely naked, as is our Annelise at this moment. I see the guards were kind enough to clean her up when they were finished with her. That is good. The mark can sometime be very small and it's best that no smudge be allowed to hide it. It would be best if the scalp were entirely shaved but this rough hacking away will suffice. The pubic hair also, of course must be removed for a thorough inspection.

"Now, girl, raise your arms to the sides. There, but just a little higher. Good. Now spread your legs apart. About so far." He motioned for a distance a bit wider than her hips. "That's good. Now hold that position, please."

The Friar stepped aside and motioned the Prince forward.

"Now, m'Lord, you must search the subject for what we call the Devil's Mark."

"Just so that I understand, what exactly does this mark look like."

"Oh, they can be highly variable. The most definitive of the marks, most often found in mature witches, would resemble a patch of fur of perhaps the size of your thumbnail. Should you ever find such a mark, m'Lord, I suggest you waste no time in consigning the wretch to the flames. Such a mark indicates the witch has been fully perverted by the Lord of Darkness and there is no hope of salvation. And you might do well to take preventive measures, lest she work spells against you. Liberal application of Holy Water and plenty of garlic has always worked for me.

"More often, though, the mark will resemble a mole, with one or more hairs growing from it. Small birth marks in the shape of a demonic face or an inverted cross are not uncommon. Indeed, any small blemish of suspicious conformation may be a Devil's Mark.

"Now, m'Lord, if you will, perform a thorough examination of the subject and I shall observe. Generally it is best to work systematically, starting with the head."

The Prince placed his hands an either side of Annelise's head. He forced her to tilt her head forward, then left and right. He turned her head as far to one side as it would go and inspected behind her ear, then did the same for the other side.

"Very good, m'Lord. You'd be surprised how many supposedly trained witchfinders forget to check behind the ears."

The Prince proceeded down Annelise's front, carefully checking under her chin, under her arms. She blushed when he grasped first one nipple, then the other, and raised her breasts up to inspect the under curves.

The Prince knelt on one knee as his progress took him lower. Annelise blushed again as his fingers intruded into her sex, spreading the outer lips so that he could inspect within the cleft.

"Good, m'Lord," the Friar said as he watched the Prince's meticulous examination. "We cannot let our sense of propriety interfere with a thorough examination. We are dealing with the Devil here and the Devil is most fond of the sexual regions. Quite often he places his mark in such places."

The Prince finished inspecting the front of her legs, then stepped behind and began inspecting her back. She blushed again as he grasped her buttocks and spread them to expose her anus.

"Well, good Friar, I see nothing to arouse my suspicion," he finally said.

"The light is not what it could be in here, m'Lord, or you might have noticed this," the Friar said, pointing to Annelise's left breast.

"I see nothing there," the Prince said, stepping close to look.

"It is very, very faint," the Friar replied, "but I think it worth further investigation. I believe she will need to be restrained before we continue."

The Prince signaled to the two torturers who stepped forward and, repositioning Annelise between two pillars, quickly had her in a tight spread eagle.

"Now, m'Lord," the Friar said, producing an implement that appeared to be a needle sticking out of a small wooden handle, "the Devil's Mark may sometime be so faint as to be almost invisible. With my many years of experience I have been able to note several possible marks on Annelise which the untrained person would never notice. The telltale characteristic of the Devil's Mark is that it is insensate. We shall prick each and every suspicious region and see if Annelise reacts. She will of course need to be blindfolded so that she cannot playact, pretending to react to a prick she does not in fact feel."

He motioned to the torturers, one of whom produced a cloth which he bound over Annelise's eyes.

"Now, it is most important as we conduct this test that we maintain silence and do nothing to allow her to anticipate the prick of the needle."

Then there was silence. Annelise waited trembling slightly in anticipation. She felt a sharp jab below the nipple of her left breast and screamed.

"It would not seem to be insensate, good Friar," the Prince said.

"No, it would not," the Friar replied. "But there are more to test, a few more."

Annelise waited again. The Friar had said she would be pricked with a needle. That felt more as if he'd jabbed the full length of the needle into her.

Another sharp pain, this time low on her right buttock. She screamed again. Then the inside of her left thigh, high on her left buttock, on the under side of her right breast. Each prick elicited a scream, though each scream was reduced in strength as fatigue set in. Annelise realized that if the torment continued long enough she would stop reacting to the sharp jabs from sheer exhaustion. She also began to realize that most of the places the Friar suspected of bearing Devil's Marks seemed to be around her breasts or buttocks or inner thighs.

She felt fingers on her labia, spreading them. No! Not there, she wanted to scream. A moment later the needle dug into her most sensitive flesh and she gave the loudest scream yet and strained against her bonds to escape. Then she hung limply, exhausted, so exhausted she almost didn't notice the jab at the small of her back. But she did notice and responded with a whine that well summarized her misery.

"Well, I think she's been thoroughly examined," the Friar said, his voice full of good humor as if at a job well done. "Let us move along to the final test."

The blindfold was removed. Annelise, hanging in her chains with head lolling forward, saw numerous thin trickles of blood running down her chest and her thighs. She knew not whether the Prince or the Friar had applied the needle, but their idea of a prick was not the same as hers.

The torturers released the chains and then, one on either side supporting her, guided her towards the door of the chamber. The Friar and the Prince preceded her out the doorway. The two torturers and a guard followed. They left the tower and crossed the courtyard, passing through the gate, then started down the ramp as if to go to the village but at the base of the ramp they turned away and proceeded instead to the village duck pond, a small body of scummy green water hosting a considerable population of ducks. Barefoot, Annelise tried to be careful where she stepped as they drew nearer.

At the edge of the duck pond there was a crude sort of dock, just half a dozen vertical posts sunk in the bottom of the pond with crossbars lashed between them and rough planks laid upon the crossbars. It was a rickety thing and Annelise, passing by, had sometimes wondered what its purpose was. The pond was too small to be worthy of boats and no one ever bothered fishing in the uninviting pool.

The Friar led the small group onto the dock. It was far too crowded, and the weight of six bodies was threatening to collapse the structure, so he waved the torturers and the guard back.

"Now, m'Lord," he said to the Prince, "for a valid test the subject must of course be secured in such a way that she is totally helpless to save herself by natural means. It's always good, of course, that she be naked so that there be no question of interference in the test, weights hidden under clothing for example.

"Unfasten her bonds," the Friar said, signaling to one of the torturers.

The man stepped forward and unlock the manacles that held Annelise's wrists behind her back. He then stepped hastily back off the groaning boards.

"Now, Annelise, kindly lay down on your back," the Friar said.

Annelise complied. The Friar bent forward and gently grasped her ankles.

"Now, please bring your knees up towards your bosom, my dear," he said in a voice no different from that which he'd use if asking her to refill his mug in the tavern where she had worked only a few days ago.

She did as asked and as she raised her legs the Friar crossed her ankles.

"There are many ways to secure the subject," he said to the Prince. "They're all more or less equally effective. This, however, is the one I prefer for its simplicity and efficacy."

The Friar produced a short leather thong from his belt pouch. He picked up Annelise's left hand, wrapped the thong around her thumb. Then he placed the thumb of her left hand against the big toe of her right foot and fastened the thong to the toe. He did the same for her right thumb and left big toe. When he was finished he stood up and addressed the Prince.

"As you can see, m'Lord, with but two short lengths of leather she is rendered utterly incapable of helping herself in the water. For the test to be valid it is vital that she can do nothing for herself. It is of course natural for a person when they're submerged to attempt to struggle to the surface. But we must determine if she is capable of summoning demonic aid to her assistance and to make that determination accurately it must be incontrovertible that she could in no ways save herself. "

Annelise, since she had been stood at the end of the dock and turned to face the Prince and the Friar, had lain down with her feet towards the land. She heard rude mutterings and coarse guffaws from the crowd that was gathering. Then she realized why they seemed to be clustering near the end of the dock. With her legs drawn up to her chest she was a s much on display as any mare in heat. She blushed at the thought of what she looked like.

"We will now place her in the water," the Friar continued, ignoring the red flush that had come over her. "If she rises to the surface we will know that she is indeed a witch. If she is unable to save herself, if she sinks, then we will know she is innocent of witchcraft."

"How long will she be in the water?"

"Well, we must allow the test to run long enough that we have a definitive answer, m'Lord. Quite often at first the subject will bob up and down a bit, such that it's very difficult to determine if there are demonic influences at work or merely natural forces."

"But if she stays submerged too long, if she be innocent, she will most likely drown I would think."

"That is quite often the case. Most unfortunate. We do try to remove them before that happens, but it is a matter requiring rather expert and pecise judgement."

"Seems rather hard on the innocent ones."

"Ah, but at least they die, one hopes, in a state of grace. I will give Annelise conditional absolution before we begin the trial, in case the worst should happen."

The Friar stepped beside Annelise and bent over her. His voluminous coarse wool robes draped over her torso as he did so. He began reciting the pro forma Latin phrases as he made the requisite motions with his right hand.

With a start Annelise realized his other hand, concealed by the robe, was groping its way between breast and the knee that pressed against it. Rough fingernails found the nipple and dug in sharply. Annelise, surprised and pained, first grimaced, then released an animal yelp. The hand quickly withdrew and the Friar straightened up.

"What just occurred here, good Friar?" the Prince asked in surprise. "What caused her to cry out?"

"Not a good sign, m'Lord," the Friar replied. "Not good at all when the offer of absolution elicits what seemed to be an involuntary cry of anguish. I suggest we proceed quickly with the test. Bring the rope."

One of the torturers came forward and handed the Friar a coarse hemp rope of about a finger's thickness. The Friar took it and found one end. This he tied around Annelise's waist. Then, laying out the rope along the dock he tied a knot about three feet from Annelise. He handed the other end of the rope to the torturer.

"Mind you keep firm grasp of that end," he said. "We shall need it to retrieve our Annelise. Now, m'Lord. You will notice I've tied a knot in the rope. It shall serve as a reference point. If the knot is submerged we shall know that she has well and truly sunk to the bottom and is not floating. Very well, let us commence the trial."

The Friar motioned to the two torturers and he and the Prince retired from the dock. The two large men stepped forward, the dock shaking under their weight. Each took hold of an arm and a leg of Annelise, picked her up and with no ceremony heaved her out into the duck pond. She landed on her back and sank almost before she could get a last breath. Annelise pinched her eyes tightly together as the green water closed over her. A moment later she felt herself sinking into the weeds at the bottom of the pond. Then she felt herself start to slowly rise.

Panic filled her. How could she be rising? She knew she was not a witch. Yet she definitely felt herself coming up out of the weeds. Her thumbs had been tied to her toes, but her fingers were still free. Almost without thinking to do it she spread them out and felt for anything she could hook a finger around. Fortunately, the weeds at the bottom of the pond were both long and thick of stem. She managed to work the fingers of her right hand into a clump and grasped it. Then the fingers of her left hand found a good, thick strand of weed and closed around it. She anchored herself to bottom, determined they would not declare her a witch.

As she floated in the weeds anger began to fill her. Anger at the dirty trick the Friar had played, making her cry out. Anger at the callousness of the Prince is blithely condemning her to torment and painful death, as if she were nothing more than a toy to be broken and discarded. Annelise resolved to foil their plan. She would drown herself at the bottom of the stinking pond and put an end to their game. She would be dead, of course, but at least it would be comparatively quick and painless and when they pulled her lifeless body out of the water it would be proven that she was innocent, as much as the Friar seemed to want to think she was a witch.

"I'm going to expel the air from my lungs and breathe in pond water and that will be the end of it," she thought to herself. But somehow she could not quite bring herself to actually do it. Finally she felt herself starting to lose consciousness. She felt her fingers start to lose their grip on the weeds. Air began to rush out through her nose and mouth and blackness crept in over her.

The next thing Annelise knew she was on her belly on the dock. Someone was pounding on her back. She was vomiting ugly puke that seemed to be mostly pond water. From what seemed like a long ways away she heard voices.

"What say you, good Friar? A witch or not a witch?"

"It would appear there are no demonic influence at work here, m'Lord."

The Friar's voice betrayed perhaps a bit of disappointment.

"There seems no point in continuing the examination today. You men, when she's finished refilling the pond return her to the dungeon. Now, Fra Gropius, we've received a new shipment of sherri-sack from France. Perhaps you'd care to join me in sampling it?"

"That I would, m'Lord. Tiring work, ferreting out witches."

When Annelise finally stopped puking the two torturers picked her up like a sack of wheat and carried her back to the dungeon. She was roughly dropped on the straw in her cell. One of the torturers tossed the ragged shift on the floor next to her before he closed the cell door. After a while, when she had regained some of her strength, she put it back on. Then she curled up on the odorous pile of straw covering the floor of her cell.

After a time she heard footsteps in the corridor outside her cell. A tin bowl was slid through the small opening at the bottom of the metal door. It contained an unappetizing gruel. Annelise looked at it for a long time before deciding she really was hungry enough to eat it, even though she hadn't eaten since the previous day. She crawled over to the bowl and picked it up. There was no spoon, so she dug into the thick, sticky gray goo with her fingers.

Immediately she felt lumps in the gruel, three of them. Her first reaction was repulsion at the thought of what kind of offal might have gone into the gruel, but then she became curious. She fished one of the lumps out and cleaned it off. To her surprise it was a large piece of stew meat. She bit a piece off. Despite the gruel that still clung to it, it tasted wonderful. She wolfed it down, then pulled the other lumps out. They were also stew meat, and a better quality of meat than most peasants were used to putting in their pots. She greedily ate them and then, her appetite restored, even finished off the gruel.

She slid the bowl out through the slot and then returned to her straw heap to ponder the why of it. She knew little of the ways of the castle dungeon, but nothing she'd ever heard had indicated that the prisoners were fed anything more than the smallest amount of vile slop needed to keep them alive. So why had someone hidden chunks of beef in her gruel? That could not be the usual way of things in the dungeon.

What must have been hours later, though Annelise could not tell for sure, there being no light from the outside to judge by and nothing else with which to judge the passing of time, she heard footsteps again in the corridor outside her cell. At first she thought it must be the dungeon keeper making his rounds. She'd heard his footsteps before. But then she noticed something different about these footsteps. The dungeon keeper had a bad leg. His step made an odd, arhythmic sound. These footsteps were even, quicker and lighter.

The footsteps stopped outside her cell. Annelise heard the sound of rusted metal scraping against rusted metal as the latches holding the door were released.

"Oh no, not already," she thought as the door started to swing open. "Give me the night at least to recover myself."

Instead of the torturer she expected a woman entered the cell. An old, old woman, who's broad, wrinkled face beneath her wide brimmed had proclaimed that if ever someone should be suspected of being a witch, this is she. There was even a wart aside her nose.

"Who..." Annelise started to say, but the woman cut her off with a shushing motion.

"You do not know me and you shall not," the woman said quietly. "I do not know you nor shall I. My only charge is to use what feeble powers I have to maintain your health as long as possible. Stand up and take that rag off."

Annelise backed away, frightened by the strange woman, and clutched the filthy garment to herself.

"Do not be alarmed," the woman said in a soothing voice. "I will do you no harm and perhaps, with luck, a bit of good. Come, stand up."

Hesitantly Annelise did as ordered.

"They used the needle on you?" she asked.

Annelise nodded. Some of the places still hurt.

"Being dunked in that filthy pond will not have been good for the places they tormented. I have some salve that may help."

Reluctantly Annelise let the shift drop to the floor. The woman removed a small crockery pot sealed with a wide cork. She dipped a finger in and removed a globule of material that looked like mutton fat. This she began daubing on each place where the needle had left an obvious mark, as well as on several scrapes Annelise had received while being hauled back onto the dock. Almost immediately Annelise felt a soothing sensation.

"Is this witchcraft?" she whispered.

"Hardly," the woman replied with an amused laugh that was almost a snort. "Just a bit of herbalism mixed with knowledge passed down from my grandmother's grandmother."

She worked her way around to Annelise's back, continuing her ministrations. When she was finished she came to stand in front of Annelise.

"Now, is there any spot I missed?" she asked.

Annelise nodded and, somewhat embarrassed, reached down with both hands to spread her lower lips.

"I might have known," the woman said, making a clucking sound with her tongue as she applied the soothing ointment.

Then she replaced the cork in the pot and returned it to the bag she carried under her cloak. She turned to the door.

"Rest as much as you can," were her final words as she stepped out. "You will need all your strength." She closed the door behind her and Annelise heard the sound of the rusty latches being closed.

To be continued.........

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