Chapter No. 19 Cutis malusa

I will not again curse the ground any more for man's sake; for the imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth;

Gowen stared with jittering eyes at the five hooded men sitting at a table directly in front of her. A tick caused her thin lower lip to quiver and she swayed on shaky legs as if she had had a few too many ales. She could only see dark brooding eyes staring back at her from faces hid in the shadows of hoods. Their piercing eyes accused without words.

She also saw numerous male eyes staring at her from the periphery of the room. She was the only woman present in this dreaded inquisition chamber, a fact that made her sweat despite a cool chill that permeated her flesh through the harsh stone. But these male eyes did not accuse; they radiated lustful excitement.

"Why have I been brought here?" Gowen asked after building up enough courage.

"You have been summoned to face examination," one of the hooded faces answered her in ominous tones.

"A shiver ran up her spine. "On what charge?" she asked in a weak squeaking voice.

"You are accused of complicity in the murder of a royal."

"I murdered no one. How can you accuse me of such a heinous crime?"

"You are well known as a supplier of potions and poisons. We have good testimony that you provided the poison for the murder of Taka, a nephew of our Majesty."

"Whoever gave this testimony is a liar. I gave no poison to a murderer."

The man pointed a crooked finger at her. "You are the liar. We demand your confession."

"If you have already judged me guilty," Gowen said with a flash of anger in her tired drooping eyes, "what need do you have of my confession?"

"Do you admit guilt, woman?"

"I do not," she said, trying to sound defiant, her shaking hands not enforcing the false bravado of her words.

"You are a stubborn woman. We have no choice but to subject you to examination."

"What good would come of it? I did nothing wrong."

"Our examination of you will determine your guilt or innocence."

"Examine me then and you will see that I am telling the truth."

"If that is your wish, woman, then I order you to present your body to us."

"My body? I don't understand. My body is here."

The chief inquisitor blew out a disgusted breath, but it was tempered with amusement. "We require that you remove your clothing."

Gowen's face drained white and she felt her knees weaken "Why do you want me to undress? There are men present and I am loath to violate my modesty."

"Your modesty is of no concern to us."

She looked over the audience of men seated around the room and saw that their eyes stared back at her with heightened interest. "Your request is indecent. Is it your practice to examine naked women? I thought that female prisoners are permitted a covering."

"Does this look like a prison, woman? Subjects of inquisition regardless of gender are required to present their unclothed bodies for examination. That is the law."

"I find this law to be offensive," she said in a voice dripping with indignity.

"Remove your clothing or I will order the guards to do it for you."

She glanced back at the two guards and swallowed hard. "That will not be necessary, sir. I will do it myself."

She was dressed in a typical fashion for a woman of the lower middle class: A wide pleated woolen skirt that ran to her ankles, a long-sleeved, high-necked shirted blouse that fastened with hooks down the front. Her feet were shod with leather slippers over full-length woolen stockings. She was covered completely from head to foot with flesh exposed only on her face and hands.
She moved her hand up to the top latch of her blouse, but she failed to unlatch it, as if she were in a state of paralysis.

Her hesitation earned a rebuke.
"We don't have all day, woman. Get busy."

"I will. I will. Give me time. I am not a young woman."

That earned her rebuking guffaws. "You are not that old, woman."

Her hands shook noticeably as she unlatched the hooks holding the bodice of her blouse together. When she accomplished the tortuous task, the garment separated. Several spectators stood and strained to get a better look.
After removing the blouse and allowing it to flutter to the floor, she unbuckled her belt and pulled it out of the skirt's eyelets. With a few wiggles, she managed to get the skirt to slip to the floor, causing murmuring to erupt from the audience. When she removed her petticoat, a few men gasped. The rest riveted their attention on her in silent anticipation, their faces unabashedly advertising puerile excitement.
She provided them with amusement when she hopped around while removing her shoes and stockings. Some giggled. A few laughed.
The object of their salacious amusement wore an under garment that resembled a full slip with a square cut bodice. Several men got up to obtain a better look at her when she pulled it over her head.

Her breasts were wrapped in linen binding, hiding them well. She paused to catch her breath and prolong the protection of her modesty.

"Proceed," the head examiner shouted, causing her to twitch violently.

"Have mercy on me, sir. This work I do is most distasteful."

He scowled. Many others grinned.
When she unwrapped the binding, men jumped up to get a better view, but she quickly hid her sagging teardrop-shaped breasts by wrapping her arm around them.

Several men rushed closer when she slipped bloomers down over her legs while keeping one arm wrapped around her breasts. When she straightened up, she quickly shielded a bristly thatch of pubic hair below her protruding belly with a hand. Unfortunately, she had no hand leftover to hide her flabby derriere. Her long thin legs had nicely shaped calves but her saddlebag thighs and rolls of fat around her hips advertised her age. She was not fat or all that badly shaped, but her chalk white skin sagged on her body and its stark pallor glowed harshly under the brilliant torchlight.
All of the men in the audience were standing now. Many had moved forward, but they remained behind an invisible barrier that defined the main area in front of the inquisition table. Their excitement filled the room with agitated murmuring and loud whispers. No one in this audience had ever seen a naked woman stand before the Inquisition. The event was as rare as a total eclipse.

"I have done what you asked," she said, her reddened sagging cheeks quivering and her shame-filled eyes shifting around with jerky motions. "What will you do with me?"

"See that pit of coals over there?" He pointed.

She turned to see what he was pointing at. The narrow pit was aglow with red-hot coals. A pole stretched over the pit on two heavy iron stands.

"Yes, sir," she said with concern showing in her eyes.

"Why don't you go over there," he said, gesturing with his hand.

She glanced back at the pit and then at the inquisitors before reluctantly obeying. When she waddled over to the pit, her flabby buttocks flopped and her jelly thighs quivered, punishing her with derisive laughter.

When she arrived near the edge of the glowing pit, Gowen looked back at the Inquisition table.

"Hold your hand over the pit."

She did so but quickly withdrew it.

"You're a cook. Is it hot enough to roast a large rooster?"

"It is, sir."

The chief inquisitor smiled. "Good. I think we'll see how well it roasts an old hen like you."

She backed away from the pit, her face twisted with horror. "Please, sir, don't burn me."

He laughed. "You won't burn, woman. We're going to baste you with oil. We'll cook you nice and slow."

She shrieked with imagined pain, dancing away from the hot coals as if the fire had already licked her flesh.

The chamber erupted with laughter.
When the laughter subsided, the chief inquisitor motioned to the guards to move forward. Seeing this, Gowen attempted to run, but she was easily corralled. After they dragged her back to the pit of coals, the guards stepped away. The chief inquisitor stood and walked over to the woman. She eyed him with dismay and fear as he pulled a large brush from a pot of oil and began applying the gooey liquid to her back. She emitted piercing screams and moved away.

"You protest prematurely, woman. You are not yet over the pit of coals."

She looked over at the coals. "I do not wish to be over that pit, sir."

"If that is your wish, then confess."

She gaped at him with horror stricken eyes but she said nothing.

The chief inquisitor pointed to the long pole that stretched across the pit of coals. "See that spit up there."

Gowen looked up at it. "Yes, sir."

"If you don't confess, we're going to tie you to it and cook you over those coals."

Her face twisted with imagined pain. "If you do that, sir, I will be burned."

"Hold your arm out, woman," the chief inquisitor ordered.

She reluctantly did as he commanded, and he applied gobs of oil to her skin.

"Hold your arm over the coals."

She gave him a dubious look before she did as he had asked. The radiant heat of the coals began to impinge on her arm but she didn't feel anything at first. Beginning as a warm glow, the heat soon escalated to a painful burning sensation.

Screaming, she pulled her arm away.

"This is only an insignificant preview of how you will suffer if you don't confess," the chief inquisitor said.

"I am convinced, sir," Gowen screeched. "I will confess."

The inquisitor blew out a relieved breath. "Will you sign a confession?"

"Gladly, sir," she said, blowing out a relieved breath herself.

He walked over to the inquisitor table. "Come here, woman."

She cautiously approached the table. He handed her a quill and pointed to a document.

"Sign here."

She quickly scribbled her signature.
The chief inquisitor smiled as he motioned to the guards to come forward and take the woman away. She became alarmed when they grabbed her arms.

"Take her to a holding cell," he commanded.

Gowen's face twisted with confusion. "Will you at least allow me to retrieve my clothing, sir?"

The chief inquisitor glanced down at the pile of clothing before looking back at her with a smirk. "Where you're going, you no longer require clothing, woman."

Her face exploded with horror. "But, I thought that female prisoners are afforded the privilege a covering."

"That is true, but you will be boiled in oil. Plucked hens cook much better than those with feathers." 

Her face exploded with horror. "Please have mercy on me," she screamed as she was being led away, her body twisting and her legs thrashing and flopping to resist.

The inquisitors and spectators roared with laughter at her amusing departure.