The Fifth Servant by Kenneth Wishnia

Author:Kenneth Wishnia
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, Inquisition, Murder, Jews - Czech Republic - Prague, Jews, Mystery & Detective, Jewish, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Czech Republic, General, Fiction - General, Murder - Investigation, Prague (Czech Republic), Suspense, Investigation, Historical, American Historical Fiction, Mystery fiction, Fiction, Prague, Mystery & Detective - Historical
ISBN: 9780061725371
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2010-01-15T08:00:00+00:00

THEY PUT YOU THROUGH THE same paces every single time, thought Bishop Stempfel. First they denied all the charges, then you induced them to tell the truth, and you went back and forth with the same questions over and over until the easy ones broke and the stubborn ones dug in their heels, while the scribe mechanically copied it all down. Every question, every answer, pausing only to change quills or stifle a yawn.

Perhaps the court scribbler had seen it so many times before that he no longer appreciated how challenging it could be to bring a case like this to trial. There had to be sufficient grounds before they could proceed, and the ability to unearth such evidence (and justify the time and expense of a trial) varied widely depending on the skills of each Inquisitor. It wasn’t always easy to de-fine a particular example of witchcraft. You just had to be able to recognize it in what ever form it appeared.

The new team of correctors had arrived, bringing youthful energy and a fresh perspective to the proceedings. The bishop sat on the edge of the orange circle of light, keeping warm by the embers where the irons lay heating for use.

He watched the two priests closely. Zeman had a more nuanced approach, extracting critical information from the young witch about the Sabbat feast, where the food was apparently so bitter and foul that it made the participants vomit profusely (what foul lengths these witches go to satiate their perverse desires!) but he couldn’t get her to confess that the meal consisted of the flesh and blood of young children, to say nothing of the corpses scavenged from the graveyard or harvested from the gibbet.

Popel was clearly more effective, focusing on the crucial issue—namely, that we know that witches fornicate with devils. The question is, How do they do it?

“What is the Devil’s member like?”

“I don’t know.”

Here the interrogator administered some pain.

“What is it like? Is it hard or soft?”

“It’s hard. Hard as steel.”

“No, it isn’t.” Pain.

“My brother,” said Zeman, “some say that it is hard. Some even say that it is forked.”

“Is it forked?”

“I don’t know.” Pain. “Yes—!”

“Yes?”

“No—?”

“Which is it?”

“Yes! No! It’s both. It’s hard for some, soft for others.”

“You mean it is forked?”

“Yes. Please. My arms—”

“Is sex with the Devil pleasurable?”

“Yes.” Pain.

“Yes?”

“No! No, it isn’t.”

The Inquisitor was impressed with Popel’s technique. After a short apprenticeship, he was already learning how to jump between topics just to keep the vile race of sorcerers off balance.

“We are well aware of the fact that the pact with the Devil must be written in blood. But we would like to know what kind of blood it is.”

No answer. Pain.

“I don’t know.”

“What kind of blood? Jewish blood? Babies’ blood? Menstrual blood?”

But she stubbornly insisted that since she had never signed such a pact, she didn’t know how to answer, and the pain had to be applied again and again.

Bishop Stempfel watched as the correctors tilted the witch’s head back, jammed a funnel into her mouth, and told her they were going to pour molten lead down her throat.

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