“They took me to a carriage, a closed carriage, and carted me off somewhere. It turned out to be a small barracks near the Residenz. I didn’t know it at the time, as they drove around much longer to disorient me. But I was less than a half mile from where I started! They took me to a stable where they let me out of the carriage. Then they took all of my belongings, and blindfolded me. Until they blindfolded me, I wasn’t really frightened. Before that, it was a bit of an adventure, actually. Exciting. Swordplay in the street, men shouting, shoving, nobody got hurt too badly. I knew I really didn’t do anything wrong. I felt safe. We had nothing to do with it, and I was certain all I had to do was explain it to someone in charge to let them know their error. I was going to be rude about it, but I was going to tell them.”
“But when they blindfolded me, I became frightened. I have never been restrained before. They tied my hands, and tied a rope to my hands. They put me into another carriage; I could tell, it was a different driver, a different team of horses, and it smelled different, like someone had urinated in it. Rather awful. We drove quite some time. I could hear sounds of the town all around me, but we never left the gates. We eventually stopped, and pulled into a different stable. Again, I could tell by the sounds. They led me, blindfolded, like a cow on a lead. I stumbled and fell several times, scraping my knees. They laughed as I fell, and I grew more frightened. They were rough men, mercenaries, not men from Bavaria or Swabia. I could tell from their accents. I was led down some narrow stairs, a horrible smelling place. It smelled of rude men, and a barn that had not been properly cleaned of rancid bedding from grievously sick animals. I was nauseous as soon as I stumbled over the threshold. I was terrified. I pleaded constantly, that I had not done anything wrong, and I didn’t know why they were holding me. I cried, wailed, and screamed in anger. All they did was laugh, and wait for me to stand when I fell, never helping me.”
“And suddenly I realized! This is what everyone must say in this situation, ‘I am innocent, I didn’t do it, I have done nothing wrong…’ They hear those phrases from everyone. But I still screamed at them. At the bottom of the stairs there was a corridor, I could feel it was very narrow with a dirty stone floor. I had lost my slippers, so I was barefoot, and I had torn a toenail when I fell. I could feel the blood on my feet. All I could think at that moment was that I just had my toenails done by one of the girls at the Munich house, she does excellent work, and I had ruined it. I was pushed through a doorway, and shoved back onto a low pallet. It hurt my back. The blindfold was removed, I blinked in the near darkness, and found myself looking at a rough black-bearded man, an ugly scar near his eye, and a nose that had been broken many times. He was smiling, stained teeth in a dirty bushy face.”
“Hello, Queenie.” He growled. “I’m’a gonna call ye Queenie. Because they say you're named Regina. An’ tha’ be Queen-like-sorta. And, you're a little thing. Get it? Regina? Queenie? So you’re now Queenie. Hello ,Queenie.”
Regina blinked at this horrid man, dumbfounded.
“I said hello, Queenie. What d’ye say when someone says hello to you?”
Regina attempted to stand. “I am innocent of any wrongdoing! I wish to see my lawyers.” The man put a surprisingly gentle but very strong hand on her shoulder, keeping her in a seated position on the pallet. He shook his head.
“Queenie, this is a small prison, for special people. There’s no lawyers here. Only questions. And answers. ‘Tis my job t’ ask questions, and your job t’ answer. Simple.”
“I wish to see my lawyers,” Regina persisted.
The man took a step back to where Regina could see him more fully. He was very tall, one of those odd men whose frame was slender and wiry, but still had a large belly, from too much beer. His clothes were dark, like some Calvinist, and his massive boots scraped the stone floor in front of her. He sighed. “Queenie, I get all kinds in here. Rich folks. Poor folks. All kinds.” He gestured with scarred hands, knuckles oversized, and a thumb that quirked off at an odd angle. “Never had a lawyer come visit. Never had anyone come visit. Nobody never visits. Nobody knows you're here, or where you are. You have dis’peard.” He sighed again. “It’s been busy. Lots of people.” He crouched down so he was at eye level with her, an almost fatherly gesture. “Now, Queenie. I want you to think about the things you want to tell me. Tomorrow you will tell me. Then we will check on what you told me. People above me will bring me more questions, and I will ask, then we will do it again and again until the people above me have the answers they think they want. Scribes’ll write a lot. Only after that do people leave.”
Regina felt faint. Faint from the smell, from the frightening large dark man, from the tiny dank cell, and from terror. She shook, and began to sob uncontrollably. “I-I don’t even know why I am here, I don’t know, you have got to believe me…” she sobbed more, and fell to her raw and bruised knees because it was the only thing she could do. “Blessed Virgin, please protect me.” She began to pray silently.
The man stood, and then took a half step back, and patted her gently on the head. He spoke in a surprisingly soothing deep voice. “There, there, Queenie. You have a good cry. I ha’ never seen t’ Blessed Virgin here. Many have asked.” He turned without a further word, and closed the cell door. There was a small barred opening near the top of the door, through which a dim lamplight shone. It offered no real light. Regina used her hands to survey the low pallet and sat back, alternating between prayers and tears. He clothes were filthy and ruined. She spent time tending to her bruises and feet, as she alternated between sobbing and shaking. She could hear others crying out like her, pleading. Eventually she dozed, exhausted from the trauma, to be awaked by another prisoner, a household servant from the sounds of it, forcibly dragged down the hallway outside her cell. She listened as the man pleaded he was ‘just a kitchen servant’, ‘he knew nothing’, ‘he didn’t understand why he was here’. Crying, sobbing, groveling, pleading in fear. Regina knew that none of his cries mattered, just the same as hers. She resolved not to grovel. That was a limit she set for herself, no matter what happened.
Regina woke when the door of her cell crashed open. Since she was underground, she didn’t know if it was day or night. There were no windows, only dim lamplight from the corridor. The tall man came into the cell, filling it with his presence. “Rise up, Queenie. Time to talk.” A scribe set up outside the cell, with a stool and a portable lap desk. He sharpened his quills and prepared his inkpot.
Regina sat, staring, feet curled up under her on the low pallet. “I need to use the privy.”
The scribe looked at the tall man. The tall man nudged a pot from under the pallet with his boot, and nodded. “There ye go.”
“Do you mind? Some privacy, please?” Regina gave them her most intimidating look. The scribe and the tall man smiled at each other, amused at the attempt. But after a moment the tall man nodded, the smallest hint of respect in his eyes. He stepped out into the narrow hallway, squeezing past the scribe, and closed the door. After a few moments, she was sitting, back on the pallet, her hair smoothed as best as she could manage, her skirts draped properly in front of her, he back straight, and looking at the tall man as he entered. “Perhaps,” she said, one eyebrow raised, “we can get this whole thing taken care of quickly?”
The tall man nodded. “It will take as long as it will take, and then a little more. That’s the way these things usually go.”
Regina nodded, holding what little dignity she had left as closely as she could. “Then let’s begin.”
They asked her a series of questions, mostly about what she was doing visiting Maria Anna, how long she visited her, if she had seen Maria Anna during the visit, what she and Polyxena spoke about, how long was the visit, was anything unusual about the visit, who else had she seen or heard at the house, who was the carriage driver who took her there, how long did the trip take, where did she go afterwards, where was she immediately before, did she know any up-timers, what were their names and where were the
y located at this time, and finally why would she want to kidnap Maria Anna, and what was her present location? Was she still in the city? Outside the city? Who else in your household helped her escape? What was the purpose of the conspiracy? Who else was involved with the conspiracy? What are their names? Give me three names of other conspirators.
Regina told the truth. She knew of no conspiracy. No other conspirators. No others in the family were involved, including herself. She was visiting a friend. That was all. She felt she was clear, emphatic, and earnest. She thought it went well.
The next day, nothing happened. She was given some foul beer to drink, and a raw turnip. That was all. She spent time banging on the door, screaming, kicking the door with her good foot until it too was sore, and alternately sobbing and sleeping.
∞ ∞ ∞
The next day was the same. The chamber pot was never emptied, and the food was pushed through the bars of her tiny window.
Two days later, the same men returned, and asked the same questions. Asked the same way, written down the same way. After the questions were answered for the second time, the scribe left Regina with the tall man. They took Regina out of the cell, and down the narrow hallway, away from the stairs. Deeper into the cells. She heard faint movement, crying, and moaning behind the cell doors as she passed. At the end of the hall was a thick door, with no windows. A sturdy latch held it closed. It opened to reveal a larger chamber, with a high ceiling and a large floor drain. From the ceiling, there hung items which Regina was able to identify.
She had attended the questioning of a witch once, acting as a pious-woman and a witness. As a pious-woman, Regina had to undress the witch in preparation for the questioning, which was not without hazards, as it was known they often sewed spells and enchantments into their clothing. Regina was only fourteen at the time, and had done her duty to remove the old hag’s clothing, leaving her shivering and naked. It was distasteful, and frightening, and closely watched by priests to protect her. She did her duty. But Regina had fainted dead away during the questioning of the witch, and she had had nightmares for years after. Forty years later, and it came crashing back to her. She drew in her breath as she realized what they were showing her. And why.
“Now, Queenie! Seems like you know these things. You're just full of surprises, my little Queenie!” He smiled at her in a fatherly manned, and continued. “This is the next step. We will start with the strappado. Do y’know this?” He held up a small loop of leather, tied to a rope that went up to a pulley anchored near the ceiling, and back down. “With this, your hands get tied behind your back, and we pick you up. It’s hard on the shoulders, but it doesn’t leave any permanent marks. We use it a lot ’cause it’s simple and it works.”
Regina felt her knees go weak, and she swayed. The tall man held her up, again with a surprising gentleness. “There, there now, my little Queenie. You're doing good. I’ve had grown men faint dead away when we show them this room. One old man died right where you're standing! Never laid a finger on him, dropped stark dead!” he chuckled.
Regina tried to breathe through her mouth. Fought to stay upright. The room reeked of a hundred foul odors, but there was one thing she understood she could smell in the room. Fear. She had never realized that abject terror had a smell. She had noticed, on an almost subconscious level, that horses gave off a certain scent when frightened. In this moment she recognized it, and was able to access the memory and observe it. But the smell of raw human fear was new to her. She understood that too, so she took a moment and looked at that thought, turned it over in her mind and examined it from different angles. At the same time, another part of her brain, the most basic part, was screaming. It was reacting to the scent of fear quite differently.
She looked at the rough hand of the tall man who held her upright. Then at his face. His scarred face. She memorized it. “What is your name?” she asked.
He laughed at her. “My name is… well, you can call me Dunkel, Queenie.”
“Of course.”
They took her clothing after that. Dunkel was pleasant about it, and told her he would empty the chamber pot if she did, and they would give her a blanket. She complied, with the full understanding that torture was done sans clothing. They emptied the pot, and gave her a blanket. Then they left her alone. The blanket had lice, and was thin. She shivered and itched, naked in the darkness.
Another day passed. Another turnip. Another small beer that made her wretch. Then another day, just like the one before. She was desperately hungry.
She waited. For torture. Cold. Alone. Naked.
Another day, another turnip, this one a little larger, same wretched small beer. She wondered if the larger turnip meant anything, or if was just random.
More time passed, she was never sure how much. It grew quiet, except for the snuffling and skritching of the rats. She thought she heard a voice whisper her name in the near darkness. She shook her head, not understanding what she was hearing. She heard it again, and was afraid she was hallucinating, like in a fever. She felt her forehead expecting it to be feverish. She was surprised when it wasn’t.
“Regina?” Her name, her real name, was whispered from the hall outside her door. It was not her imagination. Her heart raced as she struggled to reply. Her throat was painfully dry, and she found she could not speak. She panicked, afraid the voice would pass her by. It called her name again, “Regina,” this time further down the hallway.
Finally she was able to croak, words tearing at her throat. “I-I’m Regina. Who…?” She dissolved into fits of coughing, and fell to her knees.
“Regina? Is that you? Regina? It’s me. Johann Franz. I’ve come to get you out!”
“Johann?” she gasped, the coughing finally slowing. “I’m here.” The door latch lifted. The door opened, hinges creaking, and Johann Franz stood there, peering into the darkness of her cell. He was so young, so strong. He lifted a candle, and Regina saw it as if she were in a dream. His eyes found her, kneeling in the filth of the floor, naked, blanket clasped to her bosom, swaying slightly as she tried to keep her balance.
“Aunt Regina! Are you okay?” He knelt in front of her.
“It is you, Johann. Isn’t it?” She met his eyes. She wasn’t sure she could cry, but she did.
“Yes, Regina.”
“Take me away from here, Johann. Take me away from here. Please.”
He peeled off his doublet after setting the candle on the floor. “Put this on. Where are your clothes?” He helped her to stand on unsteady feet, and draped his doublet across her shoulders.
“Th-they took them. I’m cold, Johann.”
“Wrap yourself in the blanket. I will carry you, it doesn’t look like you can walk.”
She began to clumsily wrap herself, as he looked around the small cell. “Nothing else here? Nothing of yours?”
She shook her head. “They took everything. Clothes. Everything.” She reached out and grasped his arm. “Oh no! Johann!” She suddenly started whispering. “The guards, and Dunkel? Where are they? Johann, you have to go, they will be back any second, you don’t want them to capture you here, Johann. Dear God, get away, don’t let then get you…”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry. They won’t bother us, Regina. You are safe.”
“Did you kill them?” There was a hopeful tone to her voice. She was surprised at that.
“Bribed them. Very well. Maximilian has left town in pursuit of his brother and his family. The Swedish forces are moving. Confusion makes for opportunity, at least that’s what Imperial Count Johann said.” He swept her up in his arms, and Regina felt his warmth through his clothing. She clung to him. “We don’t have much time, there is a carriage waiting upstairs.”
He carried her effortlessly up the narrow stone staircase, and she looked back at the little prison. She could see four or five more doors down the dim hallway, and the dreadful tall door at the end. She clenched at Johann. At the top of the stairs was a little guardhouse with another door,
and the whole thing was inside a stable-like building. There were no guards, only a nondescript carriage waiting, and a pair of nags to pull it. She registered that it wasn’t the typical carriage the family would use. Regina was bundled into it, and Johann opened the doors at the end of the stables. It was night, but she could smell the air was cool and clean, even as she reclined in the well-worn leather and horse smells of the carriage. She didn’t know it was night. They drove off.
“I woke a couple of hours later in the townhouse, where I recovered for a few days, and then we all simply left Munich. Openly rode out in the middle of the day, like we were supposed to. Large bribes were paid, for my release, as well as to open the gates. Large enough that men could relocate their families to land controlled by someone other than Maximilian of Bavaria.” Regina shook her head sadly. “It was a rather expensive trip for the entire family, it seems.”
“It sounds horrible, Regina. I'm sorry you had to endure it.” Mary gently squeezed Regina’s hand, and took it back. She had to wipe a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “I have read a lot of reports on the questioning of witches. I can’t imagine…” She inhaled, and felt a catch of emotion in her chest. She leaned over to Regina and they embraced. They both cried for a while.
There was a light knock on the door, and it opened. Regina and Mary turned to look, and it was Elinore, the chambermaid, with a nondescript man standing behind her. It looked as if there were a couple of more men in the hallway as well. “Mistress? The Count wishes to see you, are you able?”
Up-Time Pride and Down-Time Prejudice Page 26