“We are Roman Catholics. I am not familiar with the term, Alumbrados.”
“Is that so?” the inquisitor said, turning away from Tomás abruptly. Inquisitor Álvarez placed his hands behind his back as he paced back and forth for a moment. “Tell us Señor, your whereabouts on Easter, the holiest day of our Lord,” he asked, keeping his back turned to Tomás.
“My family and I traveled to Granada to visit Felipe and his wife,” Tomás said quietly.
“If memory serves me correctly, Moors do not celebrate Christian Holy Days, nor have churches or read the Bible.” The inquisitor turned and faced Tomás. “They are heathens that pray to a false god in mosques and read from a godless book called the Qur’an.” The inquisitor looked Tomás squarely in the eyes. “Now, describe your visit on a Holy Day in the land of heathens.”
“It was good to see my son.”
The inquisitor rubbed his chin. “Where did you celebrate Easter Mass?”
“Felipe’s is a God-fearing man. He built a chapel on the grounds of Palacio del Sol to show his love for God. Although not as grand as the Catedral de Toledo, it is where we spent Easter in prayer and fasting.” Tomás studied the inquisitor’s face, seeking his approval, but found none.
The inquisitor crinkled his forehead and narrowed his steely blue eyes.
“Is that so? What happened when you left this, Palacio del Sol?”
“We said our goodbyes.”
The inquisitor gave Tomás a contemptuous gaze as he paced the floor with his arms behind his back.
Tomás gave his wife an uneasy look.
“Before you and your family returned to Toledo, you and Felipe had a quarrel. Please tell us about this argument.”
“I do not know what you are talking about, Felipe and I did not argue about anything.”
The inquisitor leaned into Tomás’ face. “Is that so? Since you have amnesia, Señor de Hayos, let me refresh your memory. You insisted that Felipe join you and become an Alumbrados.”
“I told you before I do not know what that term means.”
“Is that so?” he scoffed. “Then allow me to enlighten you, Señor de Hayos.” The inquisitor paced the floor for a moment, and then without warning turned sharply facing Tomás. “The Alumbrados are practitioners of magick—black magick. When Felipe refused to join your cult, you summoned up all the powers of hell, and spat out a terrible curse—turning your own son from man to beast.”
The audience in the chamber clamored in horror.
“That’s a lie!” Tomás stood, lunging at the inquisitor. “That’s a lie!"
A guard forced Tomás back onto his knees.
He grimaced from the jarring pain.
“I have a sworn eyewitness testimony. With your permission, Your Excellency, may I read the statement?”
“You may proceed,” the archbishop said, motioning with his hand.
A clerk handed the inquisitor a rolled parchment.
The inquisitor unrolled the document. “I will read an excerpt from a sworn testimony,” he said, before clearing his throat. “I must warn you gentlemen this is rather shocking. ‘Señor de Hayos eyes darkened and from his lips he spat out a terrible curse. He blew a magickal powder into Felipe’s face. Later that night, Felipe fell ill. The next morning, Felipe began acting strangely. He became violent. Over the next couple of months, he began eating his meat raw. On June ninth, as the two-tailed comet blazed the night’s sky, an unspeakable evil took root in Felipe. His flesh turned black. His hands and feet became like the talons of an eagle. Bat-like wings sprouted from his shoulder blades. He opened his mouth to scream and that’s when I saw... rows upon rows of sharp teeth and two large fangs. Before I could utter a single word... Felipe de Hayos had transformed into a vampiro right before my eyes.”’
“Burn them all!” a male spectator yelled.
“This is outrageous! I demand to know my accuser. I have a right to know. I have served and protected this country. It is my right as a statesman to know my accuser,” Tomás insisted.
Both the inquisitor and the archbishop gave Tomás a cold hard stare.
Tomás’ face flushed hot with fear. The Church had already made up its mind.
“Your Excellency,” Tomás’ voice quivered, “surely you know these accusations cannot be true.”
The inquisitor leaned into Tomás’ face.
“There have been other eyewitness accounts of a winged devil, which fits the description of your eldest son.” The corners of the inquisitor’s thin lips, curled to form a smug sneer. “It’s time to confess, Señor. The vampiro is indeed your son, Felipe Esteban de Hayos Montoya and you are responsible for setting the beast free to prey upon the innocent!”
The spectators began stomping their feet, and chanting, “Burn them! Burn them! Burn them all!”
Tomás shook his head in disbelief.
“It’s just not possible to turn a man into a beast.” Tomás squeezed back tears as he turned to the archbishop, with desperation in his eyes. “Your Excellency, you can do whatever you want to me. But I implore you, let my family and servants go free—”
“Silence!” the inquisitor yelled as he motioned to the guards.
Soldiers brought in Alejandro, Maria, and Zaybeth followed by the servants into the tribunal chamber, all draped in heavy chains.
A guard slammed Zaybeth hard to the floor. Her arms and body ached from being chained and handled so roughly.
Alejandro tried to reach for her, but was yanked back by a guard. He could only look at her with tear-stained eyes.
The inquisitor turned to the spectators.
“Based on the evidence presented here today, Tomás de Hayos, you and your family, including your servants, are hereby found guilty of heresy and consorting with the devil. May God have mercy on you!” the inquisitor said in a huff, swiftly turning his back to Tomás.
“We’re innocent, I tell you!” Tomás screamed.
“Papa, confess so they will let us go.” Alejandro begged.
“Take the others to their cells to await their Relaxation,” the inquisitor said, signaling the guard.
Archbishop de Acuña stood and walked to Tomás. “Confess your sins, Tomás and I promise I will set you and your family free.”
Tomás studied the archbishop’s boney face. He had served on many tribunals and he knew exactly what the archbishop meant by being ‘set free.’
Tomás and Francisca were led down a dank corridor beneath the prison to a tribunal chamber with the inquisitor, archbishop, and a stout elderly doctor following closely behind.
The executioner was busy sprinkling instruments of torture with holy water and blessed them. He motioned for the guards to bring in Francisca and Tomás into the chamber.
Tomás was stripped naked. A stout rope was then fastened to his wrists, while the other end was attached to a pulley fixed to the roof of the torture chamber. The executioner drew Tomás up with the rope until he was suspended six feet from the floor.
“Tell the truth, Señor de Hayos,”
“Please let my husband go. Can’t you see we are innocent?” Francisca pleaded, as guards chained her to a stone pillar in the center of the room.
The man smiled as he inflicted a number of stripes with a sharp, metal-tipped whip upon Tomás back.
Tomás tried to stifle the pain and remain strong in front of Francisca.
“Are you a practitioner of magick?”
“I am a Christian,” he grunted.
Both the inquisitor and the archbishop looked on as the executioner applied even more lashes to Tomás’ back.
Pain shot through Tomás’ body. He howled out a terrible scream. Tomás could taste the blood in his mouth mingled with the salt of the tears that fell from his eyes.
Tomás could hear Francisca screaming for the executioner to stop whipping him.
His back turned to a bloody pattern of gaping wounds. Chunks of flesh flew off Tomás’ back, opening up even more wounds.
“Confes
s, Señor that you turned Felipe into a vampiro!”
“I’m innocent,” Tomás said, his voice quivering.
Unable to get a confession out of Tomás, the executioner stopped the flogging him and set aside his whip, trading it for heavy iron weights that he attached to Tomás’ feet.
“Tell the truth, Señor de Hayos and God will set your soul free from the devil.”
Weakened from pain, Tomás could no longer speak.
The executioner pulled on the rope, raising Tomás almost to the ceiling.
“Please let my husband go. He’s innocent.”
The executioner allowed the rope to slack for several feet, and then brought to a rapid descent to an abrupt termination before the weights reached the floor. Tomás’ body went into shock from the abrupt fall. It jarred every bone and joint and in his body, dislocating his right hip socket, knee, and ankle and left shoulder. His body swung back and forth.
The archbishop’s mouth twisted.
The torture session lasted for another hour, with the executioner attempting different methods to break Tomás, one resulting in his left leg being crushed. Blood and marrow spouted forth from his gaping wounds.
The pain grew in intensity until it reached an unbearable level. Tomás’ breathing now ragged and his body was weak. His head fell on his chest.
The inquisitor stepped forward, grabbing Tomás violently by his hair, pulling back his head. “Confess and you shall go free.”
Tomás swallowed hard. “I’m innocent,” he said before slipping unconscious.
A stout elderly doctor examined Tomás. He looked up at the inquisitor and the archbishop, shaking his head. “No confession tonight, I’m afraid.”
Seeing that Tomás was unconscious, the executioner smiled and turned his attention to Francisca.
“The vampiro suckled at thy breast, did he not woman?” He violently ripped off her dress. “Since it was your milk that fed him—”
A half-conscious Tomás opened his eyes in time to watch the executioner clamped red-hot pincers on Francisca’s nipples, tearing them from her breasts.
“No!” Tomás cried out.
The executioner then took a razor sharp knife from his table of torture instruments, laid the cold blade on Francisca’s already bloodied breast and grinned deviously.
“Please, I beg you for mercy! Please, please!” Francisca sobbed.
“Confess, woman.”
“We are innocent, I tell you,” she said breathlessly, her eyes widened, bleary from her tears. “God, please! No!”
With one swipe of the blade, the executioner cut Francisca’s right breast off.
The pain was so severe that it literally took her breath away. Her body jerked back and forth before finally going limp.
The archbishop gave the executioner a look of utter frustration. He needed a confession. It was his sacred duty to the Church to bring the accused back to the faith before they were executed.
“They’re totally useless to us now,” he said in a low disappointed tone. “We will have to wait until they regain consciousness to resume. I’m counting on you, Brother Carlos, we must have a confession. A confession is the only way Tomás and his family will be forgiven by God.”
“I will not fail you, Your Excellency.”
The archbishop gave Tomás and Francisca one final look before leaving the torture chamber.
PRISONERS
The inescapable putrid stench of human feces and the pungent odor of the urine-soaked permeated the air of the dungeon. Alejandro was locked in a corner cell, but he could see Maria’s cell door, but not Zaybeth’s, which worried him.
“Zaybeth, are you all right?”
“I think so,” she replied. “Mother, can you hear me? Are you all right?”
“Yes, Zaybeth, I’m fine.”
“I’m frightened. I don’t understand why we were arrested. What crime did we commit?”
“I don’t know Zaybeth, but you must be strong and pray. God will hear your prayers and protect—” Guards entered Maria’s cell, interrupting her.
“Let go of me. Help! Someone help!” Maria cried out.
Alejandro heard the male prisoners in nearby cells cheered-on the guards in Maria’s cell.
He had a plan to escape and now the time had come to put his plan into action. Recalling from his childhood memories and the times he and Felipe spent playing war games, Alejandro twisted his wrists full three-hundred-and-sixty-degrees. The metal cuffs slipped off his wrists and dropping to the floor. Now that his hands were free, Alejandro twisted his ankles until he slipped out of the shackles that bound him.
“Thank you, Lord, for making me double jointed,” Alejandro said, making the sign of the cross with his right hand.
He found a tin cup and began raking the cup across the bars.
“I want to confess. Do you hear me? I want to confess!” he yelled.
Alejandro continued yelling and clanging the tin cup banging against the cell bars.
Guillermo, a tall, thin jailor opened Maria’s cell door.
“José, stay here until I get back,” he said, looking back into the cell.
Guillermo stepped into the hall. He buttoned up his breeches before walking over to Alejandro’s cell door.
“Stop all that noise or it’ll be the rack for you, boy!”
Alejandro stopped banging the tin cup against the cell bars. “Please, I wish to make a confession.”
“Do you now? Okay, boy, out with it, I don’t have all night. I got some unfinished business to tend to, if you know what I mean.”
Alejandro thrust his right arm through the cell bars, squeezing the jailor’s neck tight in a chokehold. The man scrambled to free himself, but Alejandro gritted his teeth and applied even more pressure to the man’s throat.
The jailor’s face turned red as blood rushed to his head. His eyes bulged as veins popped out from his temples and forehead. The jailor fought for air. His arms flailed wildly against the cell door, until his windpipe was crushed. The man’s body went limp.
Alejandro gently guided the jailor’s lifeless body to the floor, where he crouched down and pushed the jailor on his right side to rummage through the man’s pockets trying to find the keys.
“Damn, they’ve got to be here.” Alejandro searched frantically. At last, his fingers brushed across a key ring on the jailor’s belt, his fingertips barely touching the keys. He pulled the man’s body closer to his cell, but he still couldn’t reach the key ring. He stretched his fingers and the key ring slipped onto his index finger. Quietly, Alejandro lifted the keys off the man’s belt and inserted key after key into the lock of his cell until he found the right one.
Alejandro took the jailor’s sword out from its scabbard and stepped over the dead guard’s body. He put his fingers up to his lips to quiet the other prisoners as he made his way down the rows of cells. Alejandro kept his body close to the wall that separated the cells before crossing the hall to Maria’s cell. He peered inside, he saw another jailor. He looked down at the floor. There was a small rock. He picked it up and threw it down the corridor. The rock made a loud thud as it struck the wall.
José stepped out into the hall. “Guillermo?” he called out.
Alejandro remained silent and waited until the jailor was close enough before taking the sword and stabbed the man through the heart, killing him. The stout jailor fell to the floor. Alejandro hurried into Maria’s cell.
“Oh, Alejandro, thank God,” Maria said, hugging him.
Alejandro quickly unchained her wrist manacles and helped her button her dress.
“Forget about me, save Zaybeth.”
“I’m going to get you both out of here. Come on, we haven’t got time to waste,” he said, pulling Maria to her feet.
Prisoners from other cells started yelling, screaming, banging, and clinging on their cell bars, alerting guards.
Alejandro could hear footsteps of guards fast approaching as he and Maria ran to Zaybeth’s cell. He fumbled wit
h the keys. A growing panic came over his face. The guards were closing in on them.
“Run, Alejandro! Take my mother to safety.”
“Zaybeth, I love you,” he said, pressing his lips to hers through the bars.
Maria reached for her daughter’s fingers through the bars.
“I love you, Mother. Now, the both of you get out of here and save yourselves.”
Alejandro took Maria by her waist and guided her down the hall. He looked back and gave Zaybeth a strained look.
“I will come back for you, I love you, Zaybeth.”
“I love you, too, Alejandro. Now hurry!”
Alejandro and Maria dashed up a set of stone stairs, making their way through a corridor, and out of the dungeon to the courtyard.
“Wait,” he said, holding Maria back with one hand. He looked up at the guard tower. Alejandro patiently waited for the two guards patrolling to pass before he motioned for Maria to follow him. They made their way across the courtyard, reaching a security wall. Maria and Alejandro eased along the side, hiding in the shadows from guards.
Alejandro glanced up at the wall. It was too tall and smooth to scale without a rope. His hands nervously searched the bottom for a loose stone. He was in luck, a rather large stone block shifted. Alejandro sat on the ground and kicked with both feet until the stone moved. Maria joined Alejandro, kicking until the stone dislodged, revealing an opening large enough for them to pass through.
“Maria, run as fast as you can to the city wall. I’ll go back for Zaybeth. We’ll catch up to you.”
“Alejandro, please be careful.” Maria hugged Alejandro. She turned and crawled through the opening.
* * *
Captain Aguilar was the first to arrive in the dungeon. His eyes caught sight of the dead jailors. He looked at the prisoners.
“Who is responsible for this? Speak up or you shall be punished!”
A few prisoners pointed to the stairwell Alejandro and Maria used to escape.
Captain Aguilar commanded his guards to go up the stairs. The captain turned and stared at Zaybeth. He laughed.
* * *
Alejandro managed to re-enter the prison undetected. The jail was eerily quiet. He drew his sword. Alejandro reached Zaybeth’s cell.
Eye of Saturn (The Daughters of Saturn Book 1) Page 25