CURIOUS INQUISITION Copyright reserved November 1999 by Verywierd Chapter One - Arrival Jack Dawkins crawled out of the surf on all fours, shivering and exhausted. It felt to him as if his body weighed four times more than usual. The crashing waves could not seem to make up their mind whether to smash him to this death against the shore or to pull him back into the water and drown him. The wet linen of his shirt and breeches seemed to be made of lead, causing his arms and legs to quiver with the strain of supporting such an impossible load. His ship, the Triumphant, an English privateer , had foundered just off the coast of Spain after a disastrous encounter with two Spanish frigates. The Triumphant should have been able to outrun the lumbering Spanish warships and make a clean escape in the storm, except for a lucky hit on the mainmast by a last desperate broadside from one of the Spaniards. The storm had swept the three vessels apart, but the de-masted Triumphant, with half of her rigging dragging in the water, was soon swamped by the waves and sank. Jack had watched many of his shipmates drown in the freezing water, and others washed out of sight by the storm. He had managed to grab hold of a half-empty grog barrel which served to keep him afloat long enough to reach the shore. Half frozen, battered and waterlogged, Jack crawled up the rocky beach towards some bushes, where he promptly collapsed and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. When he awoke, Jack found that the storm had died out and a somewhat wan sun shone through the clouds. His clothes had dried to a degree, now being just unpleasantly damp rather than waterlogged. Inspiration struck him and he turned to scan the beach for his faithful grog barrel. His luck held and he saw the barrel lying on its side just fifteen yards from were he had come ashore. He spent another fifteen minutes looking for a piece of rock which he could use to remove the cork stopper. A careful sip of the raw rum filled him with a sense of warmth and well being as the alcohol flowed down his throat and into his empty belly. Jack was no fool however, and he quickly realised that a Spanish beach was no place to get drunk. Thumping the stopper back into the hole, he rolled the barrel towards the bushes where it was partially concealed. Jack sat down on a rock and tried to take stock of his situation. He was alone and stranded in enemy territory. If he was captured he was likely to be handed over to the Inquisition as a heretic. His first task therefore was to find some clothing that would not mark him as an English seaman. Since it was unlikely that any kindly Spaniard was likely to just hand him fresh clothing, Jack knew that he would have to steal what he needed. As he was a sailor and not a thief by profession, he knew that he would need a weapon in order to deal with any irate locals who objected to him making free with their valuables. Once more he searched the beach in hope that more items from his lost ship had made it to shore. Indeed, a few minutes of searching led him to a small chest floating at the waterline. Making his way back to the bushes, he broke the lock on the chest with another rock. Opening the chest, Jack smiled for it seemed that fortune had smiled on him this day. The chest had been part of the loot 'liberated' from a Spanish merchantman by the Triumphant a week earlier. It had belonged to the Spanish captain and held the very things that Jack most needed at this time. A lace shirt and embroidered breeches lay neatly folded at the top. Under that Jack found a pouch of Spanish gold and silver coins a belt with a fancy silver buckle and a small eating dagger. Unfortunately, the chest did not contain shoes which presented a problem. Jack's parents had been of the landed gentry who had a high regard for learning. Jack had therefore been accorded a good education which included Latin and Spanish. His parent's hopes for his future had been dashed when Jack had accidentally killed the angry brother a girl that he had been wooing. Facing the gallows if he stayed in his home shire, Jack had fled to London and eventually signed on with the Triumphant under Captain Moore. The Captain and most of his shipmates were now feeding the fishes, leaving Jack alone to face a hostile country full of people who were his sworn enemies. Jack undressed, thankfully shedding himself of his damp and chilly clothes. Using the knife he lopped off his tarred queue that would have identified him as a seaman, hacking at his hair until it resembled the close cut that the gentry habitually wore under their powdered wigs. Dressing in the Spanish captain's finery, Jack decided on a plan. Abandoning the chest, he concealed the dagger under his shirt, tucked into the back of his waistband. He started walking inland, hoping to find a farm or a road. Despite the lack of shoes, Jack made good time and soon found himself outside of a small town. It was just past midday and he spied several people walking about, occupied with their everyday affairs. He was about to start down the road into the town when he saw a figure on a horse making its way out of town in his direction. Jack stepped behind a tree and waited. When he could hear the sound of the horses hooves he peeked quickly around the bole of the tree. To his surprise, the rider was dressed in the dark brown robes of a monk, his face hidden in the deep shadow of the cowl. It rapidly became apparent that the monk had excellent vision which did not seem to be hampered in any way by the cowl. 'Who is that?' cried the monk in a harsh and not very humble voice. 'Are you a thief or highwayman that you must hide behind the tree? Come out of there at once' Jack hesitated for a moment, torn between the urge to run and the need to obtain information and supplies. The fact that the man was monk tipped his decision in favour of boldness. After all, he thought, how dangerous can a lone monk be? Straightening up, Jack moved out from his hiding place to confront the monk. 'I am no thief good Father, but rather the victim of thieves. I was waylaid on the road and robbed of my horse, money and belonging. Why, the even stole my wig and my shoes!' he shouted indignantly in his best Spanish. 'So, you are the victim of thieves. If that is so, you may be assured that they will be apprehended and punished. His majesty the King and the Church are most unforgiving of those who break the laws of God and of Spain' replied the monk, who was beginning to sound to Jack more like certain Sheriffs of his acquaintance than a simple monk. 'God bless Holy Mother Church and His Majesty' cried Jack piously. Just then, the pealing of bells and the sound of cheers came from the town. The monk smiled, although his thin, compressed lips made it look more like a sneer. 'The good townsfolk celebrate the victory of our glorious navy over another vile English pirate ship'. Turning his attention back to Jack, he frowned. 'You have a strange accent my son. From where do you hail?' Jack had thought about the problem of his distinctly non- Spanish accent and had come up with a story of sorts. 'My parents were traders who spent much time in Corsica, good Father and sadly my Spanish has been much affected my childhood playmates' 'That is strange' said the priest. 'I have had occasion to visit Corsica on my journeys to Rome and your accent does not resemble ... In fact, you sound like ...' his voice tapered off. 'I think that you should come with me back to town my son' he said, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. 'Nay good Father, there is no necessity for you to bother yourself with my petty problems' protested Jack. 'The Office of the Holy Inquisition has time for all of it's flock my son, especially when their souls may be in danger' Jack's blood turned to ice upon hearing the words of the monk. As a Protestant Englishman, the Inquisition would have him burning at the stake before the next dawn. Suddenly, he saw the monk's eyes widen in realisation. The monk jerked at his reins with the obvious intention of turning his horse around and galloping back to the town for assistance. Being a religious person and a good Christian, Jack would normally have found it difficult to strike a priest. However, the name of the Inquisition in England was a symbol of terror and hatred rather than worship. Spurred into action by that hated name, he punched the monk's horse in the nose with all his strength. Startled, the horse reared, jerking its head up and away from the mad human who had assaulted it. Unlike a trained cavalryman, the monk did not have the skill to deal with this sudden rebellion by his horse and tumbled backwards out of the saddle, landing on his head. Jack heard a muffled 'crack' as the monk's neck snapped. However, his first concern was to calm the panicked horse. The animal was well trained and did not run away from its downed master, but it shied away from Jack's attempts to grab the reins, eyeing the Englishman suspiciously. It took Jack a full fifteen minutes to soothe the frightened animal and another ten before it would allow him to mount. Jack made haste to drag the body of the dead monk off the road and into the bushes. He then found a break in the shrubbery through which he could lead the horse in order to hide it from passers-by. He then stripped the body of its robes and searched them and the saddlebags. Apart from a bible written in Spanish, a tinderbox, a stubby candle and a large pouch of gold coins, the only other find of interest was a carefully sealed letter, bearing the sigil of the Holy Inquisition. On a hunch, Jack lit a small fire with the tinderbox, heated his dagger, and lifted the wax seal off of the letter. The contents were in both Latin and Spanish, being a letter of appointment of Father Ruis Montero as the new representative of the Office of the Holy Inquisition to the town of Santa Isabella de la Mere, requiring all and sundry to grant every assistance and support to Father Montero in his quest to purge the world of heretics, sinners and blasphemers. The words 'every assistance' and the name of the town, which suggested that it was near to the sea, sparked an outrageous idea in Jack's mind. He resealed the letter as best he could and donned the robes of the deceased Inquisitor, determined to find a way back to England. Chapter Two - The Inquisitor Two weeks later, after much backtracking and wandering around the countryside, Jack found himself at last approaching the town of Santa Isabella de la Mere. He had not wasted the time though, as his accent was now much improved through conversations with unsuspecting farmers and other travelers that he had met on the road. He was amazed how effective the threat of being tortured and burned alive was as an incentive to study. He made a note to introduce the method to the tutors and scholars in England when he finally arrived home. The day was bright and clear, and the temperature a bit warmer than it would have been in England. The grass and flowers looked the same and Jack could smell the familiar smell of the sea as he stopped at the bank of a small stream to water his horse and wash off the some of the grime and dust that he had gathered from his travels. He wanted to make a good impression on his new hosts. Watching a lark fly across the cloudless blue sky and soothed by the chuckling sound of the brook, Jack allowed himself to hope that he would actually manage to cheat the fates and escape from this land full of his sworn enemies. He envisaged himself simply riding into the town and ordering the locals to supply him with a boat, food and water. After all, who would dare question the orders of the Holy Inquisition? With that cheerful thought in mind, Jack mounted 'his' horse. The animal seemed to have forgiven him for the punch in the nose and had served him faithfully during his journey. Pulling the cowl over his head, Jack rode sedately down the road and into the town. To the far left he could see the sun sparkling off of the waves. The sight of bobbing masts and the cry of seagulls made him suddenly homesick. The bell tower of the local church was the highest object in the town, so he had no difficulty deciding which way to go. Further inland Jack could make out the shapes of several large villas, evidently the homes of the nobility, such as there was in this obscure part of the Kingdom. Further up the coast, the grey forbidding turrets of a small coastal fort could just be seen, perched among several small hills to the north of the town. His approach had evidently been noticed, as there was a small gathering of well dressed folk standing in front of the church, including what looked like the town elders, with several of them tending more towards ancient rather than elderly. Remembering the sour expression of the late Father Montero, Jack resisted the impulse to smile, keeping his visage stiff and, he hoped, dignified. A tall, dignified looking man sporting a goatee and a large medallion stepped forward. A young boy ran out from the side to hold Jack's horse as he dismounted. The man bowed stiffly. 'Father Ruis, I am Juan Hernando Sanchez, Mayor of Santa Isabella de la Mere. On behalf of all the God fearing people of the town I welcome you' said the Mayor, bowing a second time. From the expressions on the faces of the welcoming committee that Jack caught out of the corner of his eyes, his presence was about as welcome as a visit by Sir Francis Drake's fleet of privateers. Bowing in what he hoped was a priestly manner, Jack drew the letter of introduction from his sleeve and handed it the Mayor. 'The blessings of God be upon you all' said Jack. 'It is good to see that the people hereabouts are strong in their faith and in their devotion to the Church' This pious statement produced a flurry of crossings and murmured prayers amongst the crowd. Everyone started moving towards the church, looking expectantly at Jack. He realised with a sinking feeling that they might want him to conduct a Mass. 'Where is your local priest?' asked Jack 'Father Julio was called away to attend to a dying nobleman whose estate is two days ride from here. I am sure that he is most disappointed that he is unable to be here to welcome you' replied the Mayor. 'I have no desire to interfere with Father Julio's flock' said Jack. 'I am sure that he is a dutiful son of God. As the representative of the Holy Inquisition, my duty is to weed out heresy, and to protect the sanctity of the Church. Show me to my quarters so that I may begin my work without further delay' he ordered sternly. The crowd started to disperse and Jack was sure that he caught many relieved expressions out of the corner of his eye. The Mayor led Jack to a grim, grey painted building behind the church. There were no windows in the front wall and the only entrance was sealed by a heavy, iron banded door. The Mayor handed a large iron key to Jack and then excused himself, leaving Jack standing alone in front of the Inquisitor's sanctum. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. As expected, the hinges creaked and groaned alarmingly, in keeping with the grim purpose of the building. Jack stepped through the doorway and found himself in a surprisingly simple room. A large wooden cross decorated one wall and across the room, a bookshelf filled with leather bound tomes lined another wall. Peeking at the titles, he found books on exorcism, demonology and witch- hunting. A well polished reading table bore a quill pen, a bottle of ink and two large books. One was a bible and the other appeared to be a ledger. When Jack read the contents of the ledger, he felt his hair stand on end. An entry selected at random read: 'Santana - accused of consorting with demons. In order to save his soul he was put to the torture, whereupon he confessed his foul associations and was burnt at the stake' After lighting a candle, Jack closed and locked the door. For the first time in several hours, he felt able to relax, relieved of the need to watch his every word and motion, lest he betray his foreign origins. Two doors led further into the building. The one next to the bookshelf opened into a short corridor leading to a simple cell, which Jack surmised was intended as the sleeping chamber for the deceased Father Ruis and also to a kitchen cum storage room, which held foodstuffs and various other supplies. The other door revealed a narrow stairway leading upwards. Lifting the hem of his robes, he climbed the narrow wooden steps, holding his candle in front of him. At the top there was a small landing and another door, which did not have a lock. Pushing it open, the flickering light of the candle revealed a chamber filled with strangely shaped objects and furnishings. Beside the door Jack noticed a sconce bearing a large torch. He lifted the candle and set the oil soaked rags to burning. Turning back to the room, he realised that he had entered the torture chamber. His inexperienced eyes recognised the rack, several types of stocks, a whipping post and a multitude of chains and ropes. Along the walls hung whips, hooks, knives and all the various other tools that a conscientious torturer would need to ply his trade. Leaving the chamber of horrors with a shudder, Jack descended the stairs once more. Going to the kitchen, he prepared a simple meal, which he ate while reading quickly through several of the smaller books, in the hope of gaining some knowledge of the ways and duties of an Inquisitor. He knew that he would soon have to face the town priest, who would be less fearful of his office and more likely to spot an impostor. Lulled by the warmth and security of a full stomach and a locked door, Jack soon fell asleep with his face resting on the beautifully illuminated text. Chapter Three - Duty calls A loud thumping sound dragged Jack back to the world of the living with a start. For a moment he thought that he was back on his ship as he groped around in the total darkness. More thumps swept away the cobwebs of sleep and he realised that someone was pounding on the door. Jack paused for a moment to run his fingers through this disheveled hair and then pull the cowl over his head to conceal his un-priestly hairstyle. Taking a deep breath, he felt his way along the wall to the door and opened it. To his surprise, the sun had fallen and he found himself once again facing Mayor Sanchez. The Mayor was accompanied by a servant carrying a lantern and a young black haired woman. In the flickering light of the lamp Jack could see that she was very pretty, with full red lips and large black eyes that were red and wet with tears. Behind the trio was gathered a crowd of townsfolk, who were muttering angrily and brandishing torches, ropes and pitchforks. 'Father Ruis!' cried Mayor Sanchez. 'I need your assistance' 'Of course my son, what is the problem?' asked Jack gravely. He kept his head bowed to hide his expression and to muffle his accent. This posture also had the added benefit of allowing him to study in detail the firm, up-thrust contours of the woman's bosom. 'She's a witch!' cried a voice from the crowd. 'Burn her!' 'Drown her and then burn her!' The mob started getting really creative at this point and Jack started to wonder why they needed an Inquisitor at all. 'Father, this woman, Ramona, is the widow of Innkeeper Tomas, who was found dead in his bedchamber this morning. He was but thirty years of age and as fit as a bull' explained the Mayor. 'Such is the will of God' said Jack pompously. 'What has this to do with the Holy Inquisition?' Mayor Sanchez went on to explain that several of the workers in the town's only inn had seen and heard things which convinced them that Ramona was in league with the Devil and had cursed her husband, thereby causing his death. According to their testimony, they had witnessed the widow walking about the inn late at night after everyone had gone to bed, reciting strange chants and spells. It was common knowledge that she habitually grew diverse plants and herbs in the garden, undoubtedly in order to brew noxious potions. 'She even had a familiar' exclaimed one of the accusers, a plump, matronly woman. 'Had?' asked Jack. 'She had a black cat!' replied the woman. 'Had?' asked Jack again. Several of the crowd shuffled their feet sheepishly, and one of them held out the carcass of a much mangled black cat. Hat in hand, one of the peons explained that they had been forced to kill it in order to protect everyone from the demonic forces that the familiar would have unleashed if given the chance. 'Burn her!' yelled someone, setting off the crowd once more. 'Father, you must do your duty. You must determine whether this woman is a witch and, if so, do whatever is necessary to save her soul' said the Mayor. 'This is a good, God fearing town and I will not have the peons running around burning anyone and anything they please. Think of the damage they might cause' he exclaimed, looking pained. Jack suspected that the Mayor was more than a little afraid that the peasants would combine revenge with their witch hunt, with the landed gentry the likely victims. Everyone was staring at him, waiting for the Inquisitor to do his duty and Jack could see no possible way to avoid being involved. Muttering sailor's curses under his breath, he place his hand on Ramona's smooth white shoulder. 'Come with me my child. The Inquisition shall root out all evil from your body and soul. Every one else, go back to your homes and leave God's work to his servant' declared Jack, in what he hoped was a commanding tone. To his surprise, the crowd actually obeyed and began to disperse. However, Mayor Sanchez made no move to leave, and eyed Jack expectantly. 'Why do you tarry my son?' asked Jack. The Mayor looked surprised. 'But you must have a witness as well as someone to record any confessions that you extract from the witch' replied Mayor Sanchez, looking surprised. 'With Father Julio away, I am the only other person in town who can read and write well enough to assist you'. Jack could see no way to make the Mayor leave, so he thanked him and allowed the Mayor's attendant to build a fire in the small fireplace and to light up the lamps and candles. His work completed, the attendant exited the building and sat down on the grass beside the doorway, promptly falling asleep. While they waited for the servant to finish his work, Jack took the opportunity to examine Ramona more closely. She looked frightened, which given the circumstances was only natural, but did not seem as terrified at the prospect of being questioned by the Inquisition as he would have expected. In England, the name of the Spanish Inquisition was used by mothers to frighten naughty children and even hardened privateers paled at the thought of falling into the clutches of this most infamous organ of the Catholic Church. Ramona obediently followed the two men as Jack led the way inside. The door slammed shut with a grim finality as the Mayor turned the key. 'Leave us for a moment my son. I wish to speak with this sinner alone' said Jack to the Mayor. Mayor Sanchez nodded in understanding and went upstairs to examine the waiting implements of torture. Turning to Ramona, Jack said, 'Is there anything you wish to tell me, my child?' 'I am not a witch' declared Ramona 'and I did not kill my husband' 'And what of the testimony given by the witnesses?' 'Pah!' she spat. 'My husband was a lazy unfaithful pig who only knew how to eat, get drunk and to bed any woman who would let him. He treated me like a slave when he was awake and prevented me from sleeping with his snoring and vomiting at night' 'What of the chants and spells?' 'Father, the running of an inn requires more than just the ability to collect money from my patrons. There are meals to plan, wine and spirits to buy and wages to pay. I have but little book learning and must therefore record such things in my head. Hence I recite my lists out loud to aid my memory. If such are spells, then every trader and merchant in Spain is guilty of witchcraft' replied Ramona angrily. 'And the growing of noxious weeds?' asked Jack. 'This is a port, and the sailors who stay at my inn often bring with them new spices and condiments from far away lands. I try to grow the seeds that they give me and some of the plants thrive in Spanish soil. The food at my inn is famous. Just ask any of the seamen at the docks' 'There is the matter of your familiar' 'What inn does not have a cat to control the rats, especially with all the rats that come ashore from the ships in harbour?' asked Ramona in return. 'So, you refute the charges made by the good people of the town and deny that you commune with the devil?' 'I swear this upon my soul, Father' declared Ramona piously. Jack was inclined to believe her, although he had a healthy fear of witchcraft and of the devil. However, from his recent readings, he know that a witch would be expected to present a clever rebuttal of the accusations. After all, Lucifer was the Prince of Lies. 'Father Ruis' was still obliged to put Ramona to the question for the good of her soul. Ramona seemed to read his thoughts. 'I know that you must put me to the question. I put myself in your hands good Father, for I am innocent and I trust in God to prove it so, although there are those who wish me ill'. Her eyes flickered towards the doorway through which the Mayor had earlier gone. There seemed little more to say, so Jack led his prisoner up the stairs to the torture chamber. His mind whirled, filled with a confused medley of images and ideas. Ramona seemed to be implying that the Mayor had a personal as well as official interest in her case. Although Ramona was Spanish and hence an enemy of England, the thought of torturing a woman disturbed him greatly. As a privateer Jack had done many violent and horrible things, but he had never deliberately mutilated an innocent woman. On the other hand, despite her beauty, Ramona could possibly be a murderess or even a witch and therefore deserving of punishment. Struggling with these inner daemons, Jack led Ramona up the dark and narrow stairway, with her slim wrist gripped firmly in his strong and work-calloused hand. Despite her brave front, he felt her skin go slick with the sweat of fear as they approached the torture chamber. Ramona's feet seemed to fail her for a moment as they passed the threshold, stumbling at the sight of the dreadful implements of pain that filled the room. Her head shook from side to side and she made as if to turn and run. Then the sight of the Mayor, who was seated at the writing table with a blank sheet of vellum before him and a quill in his hand, reminded her of the rabid townsfolk outside. Her shoulders slumped in resignation and she allowed Jack to lead her to the middle of the chamber. Chapter four - The Interrogation In the presence of the Mayor, who appeared ready to carefully record each of his actions for posterity, Jack had no choice but follow the precedents laid out in the books downstairs. He had but to make a single mistake and he would find himself in a worse position than Ramona, as English privateers were hated as both heretics and murderers. The first step in the questioning of a girl or woman accused of witchcraft was to strip her of all clothing. This was to deprive her of any possible spells, charms and talismans that might be hidden in her garments as well as to symbolise her submission to the Lord, stripped of all vanities and feminine wiles. It was also served to prepare the victim for the tortures to come. Stepping back from Ramona, Jack said 'Remove all of your clothing and place them on the floor beside that pillar' Jack heard the scratching of a quill behind him. Turning his head within the concealing cowl, he caught a glimpse of Mayor Sanchez's face. It seemed to Jack as if the Mayor smiled gloatingly for an instant, but the light in the room was dim and he could not be certain that it was not merely his imagination. Slowly and with obvious reluctance, Ramona undid the stays and fastenings of her dress. Unlike the fine ladies of Madrid, Ramona did not have servants to assist her dress, so her garments were simple in design and did not take long to remove. Stripped to her undergarments, she paused, gazing beseechingly at Jack. Hardening his heart, Jack ordered her to continue in a cold and implacable tone of voice. Ramona placed the bundle of clothes on the spot that Jack had indicated. Without being told she also removed her shoes. Totally naked, she returned to the centre of the room. She tried to cover herself with her hands, and tears of shame glistened in her large brown eyes. The next step was to inspect the body of the accused for marks or stigmata that might have been placed on her body by the devil. If the woman was still possessed of her virginity it would indicate that she had not had actual carnal relations with the Devil, a demon or other hellish being. Despite the fact that Ramona had been married and therefore unlikely to be a virgin, Jack was obliged to determine this fact for himself. Jack began to examine Ramona from head to toe. Despite the fact that the room was quite warm due to the torches and the burning coals that heated the irons, Ramona's body shook as if afflicted with the ague. He lifted her hair and inspected her neck and shoulders. The smooth fair skin was clean and unblemished, like polished marble, not marked by so much as a single freckle. All the while, the scratching of quill on parchment reminded him that he performed for a deadly audience. Up to now, the need to play the part of the grim Inquisitor and the fear of being found out and turned over to the real Inquisition had fully occupied Jack's thoughts. However, the silken feel of Ramona's hair, the milky white curve of her neck and the closeness of her naked body suddenly drew Jack's attention to the fact that he had not been so close to any woman in six months, let alone one as attractive as Ramona. His body began to express this awareness in a most un-priestly manner, making Jack thankful for the loose, shapeless cassock that hid his painfully stiff erection. Being an innkeeper, Ramona was as well versed in the lore and gossip regarding the methods employed in the hunting of witches and warlocks, having listened to endless drunken arguments between self professed experts. Jack moved on to her upper arms and armpits, carefully brushing aside the dark hairs to check the skin beneath. The musky smell that rose to meet his exploring fingers only served to further stiffen his ardour. Next came her breasts, and Jack feared that the Mayor would hear the mad pounding of his heart as he ran his hands and gaze over the twin rose-peaked mounds. Bending his head, Jack stroked and kneaded Ramona's breasts, watching in fascination as her nipples grew and stiffened under his touch. Grasping each pink nipple firmly with his fingers, he pulled out and upwards, lifting her breasts in order that he could check the undersides. Ramona gasped softly at this rude treatment, but wisely stayed otherwise silent. From there Jack went on to her belly and around to her back. Keeling down, he inspected her buttocks. Gripping her flesh with both hands he forced her cheeks apart. Dark curly hairs rose up from between her legs, reaching towards the dark brown circle of her anus. Jack was amazed at her flawless skin as he continued down her thighs and on to her feet. He had not found a single mole or blemish that could reasonably be called a demonic mark. There was only one spot left to inspect. Rising, Jack took Ramona's arm and led her to a heavy, much scarred wooden table and instructed her to lie down on her back with her legs hanging off the edge. Trembling in shame, Ramona complied. Without being told, she bent her knees up to her chest and spread her thighs apart. Working his way down from the top of her pubic triangle, Jack inspected the skin of her mons and the large plump lips of her sex. Gripping the hairs, he rudely pulled her sex apart, exposing the soft moist inner flesh. Jack realised that the quill had gone silent and took a quick glance at the Mayor. As he expected, the Mayor was staring at the obscene spectacle being enacted before him, lust plain on his face. However, Jack also thought that he detected other emotions as well. Did he really see hate and triumph or was it just his imagination? Turning back to the job at hand, Jack examined Ramona's wide splayed sex, finding it as flawless as the rest of her body. 'I must determine in truth whether you are a virgin' said Jack gently. 'Since you are accused of consorting with the servants of Hell, your word on this matter cannot be relied upon'. Unsurprisingly, the entrance to Ramona's vagina was dry, so Jack had to use a degree of force in order to obtain entry for his finger to a sufficient depth to assure himself that her maidenhead was not intact. 'She is no virgin' declared Jack. The sound of the quill told him that this fact had been faithfully recorded. He allowed Ramona to climb down from the table top. 'Let the records show that no marks or stigmata were found on her body'. Ramona looked relieved, but Jack knew that her trials had only just begun. He spoke his thoughts aloud for the benefit of the Mayor. 'Even though no visible marks were found, it is well known that a familiar will obtain sustenance from a witch through the sucking of her blood. Furthermore, the spot chosen for this unholy feeding becomes deadened and incapable of feeling any sensation. Therefore, I shall now test the body of the accused for the existence of such a spot'. From a shelf Jack picked up a small, intricately carved wooden chest. Undoing the tiny clasp, he lifted the lid. The inside of the chest was lined with red velvet and held dozens of large golden needles which gleamed evilly in the flickering light of the chamber. Both Ramona and Mayor Sanchez gasped at the sight of the tiny instruments of torture. With his free hand Jack grasped Ramona's arm and began to lead her over to a set of chains that dangled from a pulley set in the rafters. At the end of each chain hung a heavy iron shackle which would fit neatly around a victim's wrist. For the first time Ramona resisted, refusing to move closer to the chains. Jack was not surprised, as sight of those grim iron fetters would serve to weaken the knees of the bravest person. 'No!' exclaimed Ramona, shaking her head. 'Resistance will not help you my child' said Jack. 'Father, I am innocent of the crimes of which they (a glare at the Mayor) have accused me and the Lord will give me the strength to face any trial. I will not be bound like a common cutpurse'. Shaking off Jack's grip on her arm, she strode defiantly back to the centre of the chamber. Planting her feet apart, Ramona placed her hands behind her head, bringing her elbows back and level with her shoulders. Thus totally exposed she said, 'Do what you will Father, for I do not fear the truth'. During this outburst, Jack watch the Mayor's reactions with interest. He saw Sanchez flush in anger at her defiance, half rising from his seat as if to smite her down himself. Before the Mayor could speak, Jack bowed his head in acceptance. 'As you wish, my child. My duty is to do the work of the Lord and to defeat evil wherever it may be found'. So long as the Mayor watched and his minions waited outside, he had to play the part of the Inquisitor to the hilt. He dared not openly defend Ramona, although his chivalrous instincts cried out for him to find a means of rescuing her. Knowing that the Mayor would likely have witnessed similar interrogations in the past, Jack did not dare to lessen the severity of the tortures to be applied. However, the length of time that he took in carrying out each infliction and the choice of the torments to be employed were to a degree within his control. As he approached the brave woman with a needle in his hand, Jack was unable to deny in his heart of hearts that the idea of using the golden spikes on her beautiful flesh did in fact call out to the dark side of his sexuality. He was far from a saintly man and would not survive very long as a privateer if he had a squeamish disposition. He had killed and he had raped, but only in the heat of battle and in the burning heat of battle's aftermath. The most obvious place for a familiar to suckle was at the nipples and so Ramona's nipples were the first target for Jack's attentions. Needing to get a good grip, Jack scratched gently at the tip of her nipples with his fingernail, playing with them until Ramona's own bodily reactions betrayed her and caused the nipples to stiffen and rise into prominence above the smooth curve of her breasts. He grasped a now rigid nipple with thumb and forefinger. He glanced up and saw Ramona's eyes focused intently on the needle in his other hand. Jack knew from experience that a fast and sudden puncture wound could often be almost painless at first. If Ramona failed to react to the needle it would damn her as a witch, so Jack pretended to quickly stab the needle into her nipple, when actually stopping the point upon contact with her skin and then forcing the it into her flesh with a slow, steady thrust. Eyes wide in horror, Ramona moaned in pain as Jack pierced the tip of her nipple, forcing the metal point a quarter of an inch into her flesh and the muscles of her body quivered as she fought the urge to pull away from the pain. Leaving the needle embedded in her nipple, Jack repeated the operation on her other nipple with similar results. Ramona's skin began to glistened with the sweat of pain as Jack systematically thrust needles into the underside of her breasts, her armpits and her navel. Moving around to her back, Jack pushed golden needles into Ramona's shoulders and buttocks, taking care to inflict as much pain as he could in order to ensure that the Mayor clearly saw her reaction to each and every needle. Putting the box on the floor, Jack spread the cheeks of her buttocks apart with his hand, exposing her anus. Ramona groaned and begged 'No, please, not there'. Jack ignored her plea. In the twisted logic of the torture chamber, such a plea demanded even more rigorous infliction of pain as it indicated that the torture might be close to having the desired effect of obtaining a confession. Ramona cried out in pain for the first time as Jack thrust a needle through the dark skin at the edge of her anus. Her obvious suffering disqualified that spot, so Jack moved down to the insides of her thighs and to her calves. Each time, Jack was able to draw a satisfactory reaction. There remained only one more potential teat that might have nursed a familiar. Kneeling in front of Ramona's widespread legs, Jack peeled back the flesh lips of her sex to expose her clitoris. Realising what he was about to do, Ramona's courage momentarily failed her and she jerked her hips back and away from the needle. Looking up at her agonised, pleading face, Jack asked 'Have we found what we seek? Do you wish to confess and save yourself the suffering?'. Jack knew that this was a crucial moment. If Ramona displayed weakness at this point, he would have no chance of saving her and to try would put his life at risk for nothing. His words seemed to bring Ramona back from the brink of panic and he saw the fire and determination rekindle in her eyes. Ramona licked her dry lips and softly said 'I am innocent'. This time she did not flinch when Jack reached out to expose her clitoris but she screamed in agony as the point of the needle pierced the delicate skin of her tiny bud and continued the full quarter inch into her flesh. Rising to his feet, Jack turned to the Mayor. 'It is done. I have not found a familiar's teat on her body'. Mayor Sanchez seemed mesmerised by the sight of Ramona's tortured body and did not react. 'I said that it is done' repeated Jack in a louder tone. The Mayor gave a start and nodded several times in the manner of an apprentice who is caught dreaming by his craft master and is unsure of the question being asked. The Mayor scribed the results of Jack's efforts into the ledger. Jack returned to Ramona's side and started removing the needles. As he worked, the Mayor stood up and approached him. 'I beg you pardon Father, but I need to go outside to relive myself and to get a drink. I am sorry to delay your work'. Jack bowed and replied 'God's work will be done in it's own time my son. Do as you must. I confess that I am in need of a moment of contemplation in order that I may face the work of the Devil with all my meager ability'. The Mayor took this vague statement as a dismissal and made haste down the stairway. Chapter Five - Revelations Jack quickly finished removing the rest of the needles and Ramona sank down on her knees in exhaustion and relief. Touching her on the shoulder, Jack said 'I sense that there is an enmity between you and our good Mayor. Tell me the truth of this matter. You have my word that I will not reveal what you say to him although I cannot offer you the Seal of Confession as you are accused of witchcraft' Desperate to find someone willing to listen to her story, Ramona spoke. 'My husband was a weak and useless man. He was drunk on our own wine most of the time. Sanchez on the other hand is a scheming lecher. He approached me several times with an offer to become his lover. I chose to remain faithful to my husband and rejected Sanchez each time. The last time he became angry and raised his voice loud enough to awaken my drunkard of a husband. In a drunken stupor, he accused Sanchez and myself of committing adultery, and threatened to expose us to the town Elders and Father Julio. Sanchez laughed and warned both my husband and myself to remain silent on pain of death'. She sighed. 'Continue, my child' urged Jack, his eye on the doorway. 'I cannot prove that Sanchez killed my husband, but I suddenly found myself alone and accused of practicing witchcraft' said Ramona sadly. 'I suppose that Sanchez has decided that I should be silenced permanently' Jack studied the glistening mass of Ramona's hair and considered what he had seen and heard this evening. Finally he came to a decision. He could not make himself leave Ramona to burn at the stake. However, he was still not sure whether she was an ally or a foe. She might be so loyal to Spain and the Catholic church that she would be willing to face death at the stake in order to expose the Englishman in their midst. 'Ramona. Listen to me. Do you wish to live?' asked Jack. Ramona's head jerked upwards at the change in the "Inquisitor's" voice. 'What do you mean?' Fearing the Mayor's return, Jack hurriedly told Ramona the truth. He poised himself to break her neck should she try to cry out. 'Why do you not run away now?' she asked. 'It is true that I could vanish into the darkness and try another town after the hue and cry had died down. However, I believe your tale and I will not leave a woman to the tender mercies of such as Mayor Sanchez, especially not a woman as beautiful as you' declared Jack, eyeing Ramona's nude body. Ramona blushed and smiled at him. 'I am a simple woman. I know nothing of politics and despite what they say, I know that the English are Christians too and not the demons that some would have them be. I no longer have a place in this town and perhaps not in all of Spain. I will go with you if you can find a way to save us both' Jack sighed in relief. 'I have a plan, but you will have to pay a price. Our only chance of escape is by sea. If we can steal a fishing boat, I can take us to England. Once at sea no Spanish sailor is a match for an Englishman' said Jack. 'And the price?' asked Ramona. 'We need two things. First is time. We need to wait for the dawn tide if we are to get out to sea quickly. Second, the townsfolk must be distracted in order for us to reach the boat at all. Therefore, we must carry on with your questioning for another two hours, during which time you must not break or confess. When dawn approaches, you will finally appear to break under the torture and admit that you are indeed a witch. I will then send the good Mayor off to arrange a stake and bonfire for your execution' Ramona paled upon hearing Jack's plan. She opened her mouth to object, but then realised that they had no other option. Jack continued his explanation. 'News of the planned execution, which I shall schedule for noon in the Town Square, will entice all the townsfolk to congregate at the Square. We will thus have a clear path to the harbour' Ramona nodded in understanding. 'Until that time, you will have to carry on with my torture in such a manner as not to arouse Sanchez's suspicions' 'I will not employ any tortures that will cripple or injure you such as the boot, rack or the strappado. However, you realise that I will be forced to steadily increase the severity of the torture each time you refuse to confess. I would kill the Mayor as soon as he comes back, but as a priest, I cannot order the execution and we would be trapped in this building' said Jack. 'I understand' replied Ramona. 'I will hold out until you give me the signal. Have no fear, I shall not cry for mercy until the time is right. I must confess, that I have found enjoyment in receiving my husband's strap across my buttocks in the past, although he thought that my cries were only out of anguish. As long as I know that my punishment will have an end and that I am not to die, I can endure'. To Jack's amazement, Ramona grinned and slipped one hand between her thighs. She blushed as she produced a finger glistening with her juices. 'See what your needles did to me?' Ramona's revelation made Jack hopeful that his wild scheme might have a chance of success as well giving him a renewed erection, which Ramona spotted with a giggle. The sound of footsteps on the stairs wiped the smiles from the schemers' faces. The Mayor resumed his seat and Jack resumed his role as the grim Inquisitor. 'This first trial did not prove your innocence, but merely that you have not had the opportunity to conjure up a familiar. We shall see if you remain as stubborn under the lash!' Sanchez nodded in approval at Jack's announced course of action. Jack led Ramona over to the table and made her bend over it with her face and breasts pressed firmly to the rough and splintered wood. Selecting a leather strap from the many whips and canes hanging on the wall, Jack stroked her upraised buttocks, taking aim. 'Do you confess, witch?' 'I am a good Christian woman' 'Very well' sighed Jack. Without further warning, he swung the strap up and then down, striking her buttocks with a 'Crack' that echoed from the stone walls of the chamber. A dark red bruise formed immediately on the skin of Ramona's buttocks, the force of the blow sending ripples through the firm flesh. The tortured woman did not cry out, although her hands clawed at the table top. The strap rose, paused in mid-air and then flashed down again, smashing into her buttocks with terrible force. Ramona writhed like a landed fish on the table top, her legs jerking an kicking. Again and again, like the swinging pendulum of a clock, the strap rose and fell, spreading the patch of flaming red all over her buttock cheeks and down to her thighs. Panting from the effort, Jack dropped the strap and chose a long horsewhip. Gripping her fever hot hips, he flipped Ramona over onto her back. Pulling her arms out to the sides, he asked softly 'Do you want me to use the chains? The next will be worse' 'No. Do your worst, but you will not break me' declared Ramona dramatically. Looking down at her loins, Jack hoped that Mayor Sanchez would not notice the silvery liquid trail that led down her thigh from her sex. Pushing her knees wide apart, Jack stepped back and began using the horsewhip. Unlike a strap, the whip left thin, sharply defined lines. Its stiff tapering tip cut the skin of her thighs like a razor, leaving tiny trickles of blood wherever it struck. Ramona grunted each time the whip landed, her mouth open in an 'O' of agony. Beads of sweat ran off her body, leaving dark stains on the wood of the table and the tendons of her arms and shoulders stood out like steel cables but still she did not try to avoid the stinging lash. Jack shifted his aim and the hissing tip of the horsewhip landed among the damp curls of Ramona's pubic bush. Razor fine cuts drew glistening red lines across the full puffy lips of her sex and Ramona shrieked in agony as her hips bounced up and down on the table with sufficient force to rattle the massive piece of furniture. Soon both the inner and outer labia had swollen, causing her sex to blossom open like the petals of a dew speckled rose. One final cut bloodied her clitoris and Ramona leapt up from the table top, to fall screaming on the floor. Jack glanced hopefully at the narrow slit near the top of the eastern wall, but the no trace of light could be seen. The woman's torture would have to continue. Jack stood over the moaning figure and demanded that she confess, calling upon God and all the heavenly hosts to drive forth all evil from her soul in order to delay the moment when he would have to inflict the next torment upon her. Walking slowly over to a corner of the room, Jack picked up a bucket of salt water. He knew the nature of it's contents because if the brass label that some conscientious soul had affixed to the bucket's side. With a silent apology, he emptied the saline solution over Ramona's supine body. The salt burned like liquid fire in the numerous tiny cuts, especially those on the bleeding lips of her sex. The shock of the cold water and the stinging agony of the salt in her wounds brought Ramona to her feet, sobbing in pain. 'I see that you are ready for more. If I must break your body in order to save your soul, then so be it' said Jack grimly. He heard Sanchez murmur in agreement. Once more Jack turned to the seemingly endless assortment of torture devices in the room, choosing a strange looking device consisting of three curved strips of metal joined at one end to form a slim, barrel like shape, the whole thing joined to a handle. From his earlier reading, he knew that this was a device designed to torture a woman's vagina. The sides of the 'barrel' could be made to expand outwards by the turning of three screws. When inserted inside the vagina it would painfully dilate the delicate passage, and was capable of ripping and tearing the flesh if taken to extremes. By carefully expanding and then contracting the device, the torturer could inflict the agonies of childbirth or worse. However, unlike in the case of a human child, this pain would not cease unless the torturer willed it so. The metal strips could be replaced with ones that were studded with metal spikes of varying length and sharpness or even hooks or blades. In addition, the device served to spread the vagina open, allowing the introduction of various instruments of torture deep inside the victim's body. Taking advantage of his image as the sadistic torturer, Jack showed the device to Ramona and explained in loving detail its use and it's effect on the victim's body. Finally, he ran out of words and the Mayor was beginning to fidget, so Jack placed himself between Ramona's thighs, trapping her between the wall and his hips. He glanced at the shackles, but Ramona shook her head. Jack realised that Ramona could resist the pain, but not the feeling of being trapped by the chains at the same time. Placing the rounded ends of the three prongs at the opening of her vagina, Jack pushed hard. Ramona's eyes widened in pain and she bit her lower lip until flecks of blood welled out as the harsh metal scraped past her inner labia, dragging the crinkled petals inward and tearing the delicate skin. Jack knew that he could have eased the entry by spreading open her sex lips before inserting the device, but such consideration would have appeared suspicious. He pushed harder, driving the cold metal past the uselessly clenching muscles. Ramona was fortunate in that she found some enjoyment from being tortured, as her sex passage was moist, allowing the metal to slide in with less resistance than if she had been completely dry. Most women would have been have their flesh ripped merely from the insertion. The metal prongs struck Ramona's cervix with a thump, sending scalding pain shooting up her womb and spreading through her belly. She groaned in pain, her fingers clawing at her thighs as she fought the urge to grab at the object that was hurting her. With the device fully inserted, he gripped the knob on the wooden handle that controlled the movement of the prongs. Two turns of the screw spread the prongs out to the diameter of a large cucumber. The walls of her vagina throbbed in pain, as the force that was spreading her passage was concentrated in three narrow metal flanges rather than evenly over the surface of a cylinder such as a cucumber or a penis. Ramona's vaginal muscles ached from their futile efforts to eject the intruding prongs. Pearly white fluid dripped from the mouth of her pussy, running down over her anus to splatter on the table. Jack turned the screw another turn and Ramona began to pant as she fought the pain. The opening in her body was now wide enough to admit a woman's fist and Jack feared that another turn of the screw would begin to tear her flesh. Reaching out, he picked up a pair of steel tweezers which had tips bent at a forty-five degree angle to the shafts, making it ideal for being inserted inside tight or narrow spaces. Sliding the tweezers past the mechanism of the spreader, he inserted it to a depth of three inches. The flanges of the spreader device were now opened out enough to expose strips of Ramona's vaginal walls. The inside of a vagina is most sensitive to friction, so when Jack scraped the sharp tips of the tweezers along the moist inner flesh, it felt to Ramona as if the insides of her sex were being ripped out. Her heels thumped on Jack's back as she wailed in agony. Jack pinched a small piece of the taut vaginal wall with the tweezers and twisted, drawing a shriek from his victim, her hands pounding frantically on the table top as if she could crush the pain under her fists. Just then, Jack saw a glimmer of light through the slit in the wall. Dawn had come. 'Confess your evil, woman!' thundered Jack. 'Confess now!' Ramona's eyes widened in confusion, her mind dazed with agony. Jack gave a tiny nod, winking his eye. Unfortunately, she was silent long enough for it to become obvious that she had not yet broken. Yet she was smart enough to start pleading. 'Please, no more. Please don't hurt me again' she sobbed. Jack took a fresh grip with tweezers and squeezed harder. Ramona's eyes rolled up in their sockets and the tendons in her neck vibrated with the almost soundless scream that tore from her throat. A small trickle of blood stained the tweezers and dripped on the table top to join the many other bloodstains that had accumulated on it's surface. 'No more! I confess! I confess!' cried Ramona sobbing. Bowing his head to hide his relief, Jack said 'It is done'. Mayor Sanchez signed the page with a flourish. 'I have recorded and witnessed the witch's confession'. 'You have been of great assistance in this matter Mayor Sanchez and I shall mention your name in my report to the Archbishop' said Jack. The Mayor swelled in pride, barely able to hide his relief at the success of his plot to silence the only person who might have accused him of murder. Even if Ramona spoke out now, no one would believe the word of a self confessed witch. 'Now you must do your duty Mayor Sanchez' said Jack. 'This witch must be burned at noon, before she can spread her evil any further. I suggest that you set up the stake in the town square so that all may witness the triumph of good over evil. I shall stay here to guard this servant of the devil' The Mayor was most agreeable to this suggestion and ran off to make the arrangements. Hearing the slamming of the main door, Jack turned in concern to Ramona. 'Are you all right?' he asked as he carefully removed the spreading device and pressed a cloth soaked in cold water to her swollen sex. Ramona nodded tiredly. 'I will live, although I do not think that I will be sitting down very much for a while' Jack gave her a sip a wine and helped her to put on her dress. They would now have to wait for the Mayor to do his work and trust in luck. Chapter Six - Escape It was half an hour later before the sounds of the Mayor's footsteps sounded on the stairway again. 'All is ready Father' came his voice through the doorway. 'Prepare the witch for the flames'. The Mayor stepped into the room and saw Jack sitting on the table cutting the his carefully scribed record of the inquisition into strips of unintelligible leather. 'What are you doing?' he cried 'And where is the witch?' Jack nodded towards the doorway. The Mayor turned just in time to see Ramona swinging an axe towards his head. Jack winced as the blade crunched into the ex-Mayor's skull. Ramona spat at the corpse before following Jack down the stairs and out into the cold dawn air. They saw no one as they ran towards the docks. It seemed that the burning of a witch was a great attraction in this sleepy town. Ramona led the way through the maze of small shops and warehouses that lined the seaside. When they reached the water, Jack quickly chose a likely looking vessel and within minutes, they were moving away from the Spanish shore. Once he had the single sail set to his satisfaction, he turned to Ramona. 'We will be in England before you know it Ramona, and I promise that you will find a new and happy life there... with me, I hope' Ramona smiled radiantly and kissed Jack on the lips. 'If that is a proposal, I accept. You are my saviour, and you are good with a strap too' she said, giving him a wink as she rubbed her buttocks. Glancing back at the shore, Jack saw the figure of an old woman standing by the waterside, waving. Alarmed that their escape had been spotted so soon, he turned to Ramona and asked 'Who is that old lady? Blast it, she will raise a hue and cry before we are safely out to sea!' To his surprise, Ramona waved back, blowing her a kiss. 'Not to worry Jack, that is only my mother. She just wanted to see her new son-in-law' 'Your mother! How did she know that we were sailing this morning?' Jack asked in confusion. 'Don't be silly darling' replied Ramona grinning slyly. 'Of course she knew. Witches know everything' The End.