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The Inquisition - Strappado and Squasation
The following pages are translated from a manuscript discovered in a basement archive of York Minster, England. They appear to be the autobiographical experiences of an assistant to various torturers for the church in Rome during the late 16th century, though the exact dates of the experiences are unknown. There is some debate of how accurate these writings really are, as there are passages that appear self-aggrandizing and narcissistic to an extreme. In addition, it is clear that even though the manuscript was written as an assistant, this person had detailed knowledge and directly participated in many of the torture sessions. His exact role within the church is not known.
The text is faithfully translated from the original French of the time. There appear to be some parts missing including an introduction, probably lost during transport from Spain or France to England. It is not known when or why the document was brought to England or how it ended up in York, though it was probably inherited or discovered by a convert from the Roman Church to the Church of England and kept as evidence of the horrors imposed by the Roman Church on its own parishioners.
Strappado
My journeys had taken me across Spain and in to that region of France called the Languedoc, and to the great town of Montpelier. I was greeted warmly there by the church, and made to feel welcome. My fortunes had not been great in the past few weeks, and I had little to pay, but the priests provided me with a room and food.
To my great advantage, I was able to dine with the Monseigneur on my third night there, and discussion soon turned to the rampant apostasy in the surrounding area. They were able to deal with problems when found, but the poor clergyman knew there was a black disease that was festering and spreading under the outer beauty and peace of the town. He described how he in fact had recently arrested an infamous witch, and had even extracted a confession from her, but was unable to obtain a list of the members of her coven.
At this point I did suggest to him that any proper interrogation should pry this woman's lips open quickly, and asked what methods had been used. My poor patron was at a loss, unaware of what methods might have been used, or even whether a good interrogation had taken place. He begged me to see if I could assist, and I assured him that I would see what I could do.
The next day I was brought to the town jail, and was able to observe the witch directly. It was clear she had suffered no thorough interrogation, and that the town was greatly in need of assistance. I asked where there was a place that was private, with a high ceiling and beams supporting the roof. The basement of the cathedral afforded just such a place, though it was somewhat dark and lighted by many torches. I caused the young witch to be brought to me there, along with a priest to assist with taking down any confessions as might be obtained, and a guard. The priest and I sat at a table prepared for us to use during the interrogation.
My first act was to have the witch stripped. The priest with me appeared shocked, but I explained that this witch should not be considered fully human, and that such techniques might actually spare her further pain as the humiliation of her nakedness might assist in bringing a confession from her more quickly. The guard then proceeded to tear her bodice from her, exposing her breasts, which were well shaped and large, hanging down only a little as she was still very young.
The witch cried out in protest and began to shake in fear as the guard continued tearing the clothes from her body. The skirt and undergarments were removed, revealing the woman's smooth light skin and patch of dark hair between the thighs. The priest and I carried out a thorough examination, looking for the witches mark which we knew would be upon her body. After examination of much of her body, probing with our hands and eyes, we found it. Two small brown scars on her left thigh, just under her buttocks, where the devil had undoubtedly branded her as his own.
Her hands, which were tied before her, were upon my instruction retied behind her back. My own personal examination assured the bindings were tight and secure. The witch was shaking at this time, fearful of what might befall her. This was as it should be, the ripping of her clothes and her nakedness had the purpose of increasing her sense of vulnerability and helplessness. She knew not what might be in store for her but was clearly afraid. Her breasts were bobbing up and down, and legs rose up and down, one at a time in nervous contractions and some useless attempt at modesty. Tears streamed down her cheeks, making her face and breasts glisten in the firelight of the torches.
As I sat to begin the interrogation, she said loudly that she had already confessed, that there was no reason to cause her harm or pain and that she had done all she could. She protested that she was penitent and that she would be a good member of the church.
My smile was slow and slight as I looked at her and struck her with fear. I simply explained that she had confessed to being a witch, and that it was well known that witches were always part of a coven with other witches. Her failure to provide those names was therefore considered evidence that she was not truly penitent, and that we would be working to assure that she provided the names of the other witches quickly.
With this declaration I tied a rope around her tied wrists, and threw it over a beam above her head. As I did so she sobbed hysterically, tears streaming down her freckled cheeks, repeating her confession, begging for mercy and repeating that there were no other witches. Her crying had caused her nose to run, and saliva was dripping from her mouth to the floor as she begged. I could almost feel her fear as I stood close to her.
The first pull of the rope over the beam pulled her arms up behind her back, bending her body over to compensate. Her breasts hung down in front of her, and she spread her legs slightly to maintain herself from falling to the side or forward. She was thus exposed for all to see, and I noted that the priest crossed himself and looked with shock at the spectacle. I reached momentarily between her firm thighs and placed my hand on her womanhood, feeling and stroking it. This had the desired effect, the witch renewed her sobs and pleas for mercy as I explored the soft folds of flesh.
The second pull of the rope raised the woman's arms above her head substantially. No longer able to compensate by bending over, her body righted itself slightly and she stood on her toes. It was clear from the constrained scream that the first muscles had begun to pull in her upper arms and across her shoulders. She was feeling her first taste of real pain, the pain that would soon purge her soul and obtain for us the names we desired.
The third pull required the effort of both myself and the guard, as it rotated the young witch's arms vertically toward the ceiling behind her, and lifted her off the ground. Her feet began kicking with toes down, searching for any contact with the stone floor, but missed it by inches. Her weight was now fully on her arms, tearing her shoulder muscles and compressing her chest. Her struggles quickly ceased as it became clear to her that movement simply made the pain worse. She hung there, slowly turning back and forth, swinging on the rope before us.
I returned to the table and sat with the priest who was looking at the pretty girl hanging naked before him with wide eyes. While she did not struggle, it was very obvious she was in significant pain. Her breathing had become shallow, almost a pant, as expansion of her chest was painful and she compensated by taking small quick breaths. While the pain must have been terrible, she did not make much noise, but instead uttered a repeated low cry or whimper, almost as if she were a sick sheep or some other small animal. In order to scream, she would have needed to take a deep breath, which was not possible for her.
To break down the witch's resolve, I decided to perform various humiliating acts upon her body. It is well known that such humiliation assists in obtaining confessions by increasing the mental agony of the victim. My technique was to alternate pain and pleasure, so that in her mind she might begin to confuse the two and not be able to retain her mind within her. Slapping her face strongly several times caused her body to swing back and forth, increasing the twisting movement in her shoulders. I stopped the swinging with a hand on her breasts, which I fondled, especially about the nipples. I whispered to her that her nipples had become hard. She tried to turn away, but I simply reached down to her womanhood and played there for a while, exploring her private areas with my hand.
While standing next to her I observed her arms and shoulders closely, as the human anatomy is a study of much fascination to me. I could see her muscles and tendons clearly outlined under the skin, which was stretched tightly. Under her breasts, the ribs showed clearly, and I was able to see joint and bend, and felt them as I ran my hand over her stomach and chest. As I say, I take opportunities to gather personal knowledge of human anatomy whenever possible.
We called for wine, as we were prepared to allow the witch to hang from her ropes a bit longer. It arrived and the three of us each took a cup, drinking well and heartily. We did need to keep our strength as I have found that interrogations such as this can be very tiring when faced with a recalcitrant subject.
Finally, I decided to ask once again if she was prepared to give us the names of her fellow witches. She replied in a gasp that she had no fellows, that she was alone and there was no one else to name. At this I decided rather than let time take its course, to improve the technique used with her and encourage her confession more quickly.
Squassation
The guard and I found a large block of stone which had been stacked in the corner, probably as repair material for the cathedral walls. It took both of us to lift it and bring it over to the woman's feet. As it was slid under, she was able to push up slightly as her toes gained support. She gasped out and cried a thank you for the mercy we showed. Little did she understand that this support was about to become terrible instruments of pain itself.
A rope tied her ankles together, and then was wrapped around the large stone, securing this extra weight to the poor victims body. She was crying louder now, expressing her suffering more freely as some of the strain on her chest had been relieved. Protests began to resume as she reiterated that she babbled that she was innocent, that she was guilty, that she had no cohorts, and babbled on...
I knew the weight would be too much for myself and the guard, and we pulled the reluctant priest in to help. All three of us pulled on the rope, lifting the twisted body of the girl up in to the air. The renewed pressure to her chest must have been a searing pain, with the added weight of the stone tied to her ankles. In addition to the tearing muscles in her shoulders, her legs and hips were now being strained and pulled out of shape, causing her entire body to shudder in agony.
We continued to pull, higher and higher until her hands, now black and fixed in a permanent claw shape from lack of blood flow, reached the beam above. Her feet were about 6 feet above the ground. I caused the rope to be looped around a stone pillar once, and then told the guard to release the rope.
The hapless young but beautiful witch plunged down from above, until the length of rope suddenly jerked her to a halt. The sudden halt and weight from the stone stretched her entire body, tearing sinew and tendon, muscle and bone separated apart from her shoulders, elbows and hips. The sudden horrible pain created an inhuman gurgling scream to rise from her throat, and was followed by silence as she feel in to unconsciousness.
A bucket of water was brought, and several splashes on the naked body left her glistening in the torchlight, and regaining awareness of the pain that wracked her entire body. She babbled again, speaking in some language not familiar to me. I observed her closely, touching her arms to feel the twisted and torn muscle within, sliding my hand down to the woman's shoulders and breasts that still hung heavily before her. As I played with her nipples, I saw the priest writing furiously at the table.
I inquired what he was writing, as the young witch appeared to be babbling incoherently from pain. The priest informed me that she was naming the names of other women in the village, and that he now had what we wanted, the list of the other members of her coven. Her mind had broken, just as we had broken her body.
I spent a few more minutes stroking the soft skin covering the painfully torn muscles inside, feeling her hips and between her legs where her hips were torn out of their sockets. It was good to learn more of the female anatomy, especially as it was modified during these sessions of interrogation. She stopped babbling and simply hung, panting and whimpering as she had before.
The priest and I sat for a bit, admiring the most excellent example of the feminine body that hung before us, stretched and broken and yet still quite beautiful. She glistened in sweat from the heat and agony she experienced, and the light of the torches appeared to envelope her motionless body in a redish softness and shadow that accented her curves.
Finally, she was brought down from her position of examination and her body collapsed on the floor. The guard was instructed to load her on a cart and return her to the jail. With time, she might heal, though it was of no consequence. She had completed her job, provided us with the names of others which needed to be arrested and examined, and was no longer of interest.
The priest and I ascended to the apartments of the Monseigneur, where we took wine and food and celebrated the success of the Church in rooting out evil in its midst, once again.
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