‘No. I will speak for myself. They have twisted my words and created this confusion. All I said was that the cross could be erected again.’
The Inquisitor’s assistant intervened all of a sudden, ‘Did you criticize that act of destruction?’ he asked.
Simao Peres remained silent for a long while. ‘They are foolish, uneducated people. They know not what they do. We should have forgiven them and continued with our task of spreading our faith.’
‘That doesn’t mean that you are innocent,’ the Chief Inquisitor declared.
Simao Peres was irritated. ‘I’m not a Portuguese citizen. Nor am I a new convert. I belong to the Vatican state and have been sent here by the Pope. Send me back to the Vatican. Let the Pope judge my actions,’ he said.
‘You have committed the crime within the jurisdiction of this Inquisition and we shall deliver judgement. Do you plead guilty or do you not?’
‘No. I have done nothing wrong.’
The lawyer who was appointed on his behalf stood up and spoke in a grave tone. ‘I cross-examined the witnesses who testified against you, but I couldn’t prove that they were wrong. Take my advice. If you don’t want to be burnt at the stake on the Day of Judgement, plead guilty and go free. This Holy assembly will give you another chance to live like a good Christian.’
Simao Peres stared at the man who was supposed to protect his interests. ‘I have committed no crime. I am a God-fearing, religious person who tries to keep away from sin. How can I make a false confession?’ he asked.
‘We don’t send Europeans who have been accused of crimes to the special confession rooms. They are wise and educated so we expect them to confess of their own free will. We encourage them to confess and beg pardon and swear that they will be good Christians in future,’ the Chief Inquisitor declared.
Simao Peres remained silent, but his eyes filled with tears.
‘Think about this. You will get a chance to confess and plead guilty at the next hearing. If you don’t, you will be sent to the special confession room. If you confess and beg pardon you will not be burnt to death. You will get a lighter sentence, but your crime will have to be punished,’ the Inquisitor said.
Simao Peres seemed to be talking to himself. ‘I have nothing to say about the Inquisition … but this Christian faith that was taught by Lord Jesus … is a religion based on love and compassion and forgiveness. Jesus was a sea of compassion. If you believe in the Bible and the teachings of Jesus, how can you condemn people to be burnt to death?’ he asked.
The Inquisitor didn’t bother to reply. He rang the silver bell violently and ordered the guards to take Simao away.
Simao went down on his knees again and made the sign of the cross. ‘Jesus will come down to earth again. Not for my sake, but for yours,’ he said as he was led away.
A month passed and Simao was full of despair. He couldn’t sleep, nor could he make any sense of this degraded existence. There was such a vast, beautiful universe beyond these walls, but he was confined to this tiny dark cell, condemned to a life without conversation or laughter or tears! He yearned to put an end to his life, but lacked the means to do so. He tried to starve to death by throwing his food into the commode in his cell. When the man who emptied the contents discovered this after three days, he was forced to abandon this plan. The guards began to stand before him threateningly, forcing him to eat.
A stream of gibberish emerged from Simao’s mouth these days. Sometimes he’d mutter incoherently as though talking to himself and sometimes his booming voice would attract the attention of the guard. He’d peer through narrowed eyes as the guard rapped on the bars of the cell and asked him to quieten down.
The special confession room, where prisoners were tortured and forced to confess, lay to the west of his cell. The officials of the Inquisition followed a complex set of rules that determined whether the prisoner would be coerced by using fire or water or brutally tugged with ropes to force out their confession. A secretary would record every word that the prisoner uttered, a doctor would monitor the prisoner’s health and his capacity to withstand these measures and a priest would oversee all these operations.
The screams of prisoners being tortured in the special confession rooms grew louder as the Day of Judgement approached. Simao Peres’s heart grew heavy with sorrow and pity for these unfortunate souls. A woman’s heart-rending screams resounded in his ears…
They had tied a woman to a sloping wooden plank so that her head hung down and her legs were above. There was not a scrap of clothing on her body and her forearms had been scratched with red hot nails. As the guards tugged at the rough coir rope that bound her, it bit deep into the gashes on her arms and made her scream in pain…
‘Tell the truth!’ the priest in the torture chamber barked, as the guard tugged the rope once more through her wounded flesh.
‘I can’t bear this, Deva! Let me go … I’ve told you everything … I’ll say what you want…’
‘Tell the truth!’ the priest said again. The guard did what he had to.
‘Deva saiba, they’re killing me! Let me go … Yes, I’ve committed a crime. I’ve done everything that the witness says I’ve done … just release me, now…’
‘Tell the truth. Say what you’ve done.’
The guard looped another coil of rope about her body.
‘Saiba, tell me what I’m supposed to say. I can’t remember anything, tell me and I’ll say it. Aavayyy … mother … I’m going to die!’
‘Tell the truth! Confess that you fasted on ekadasi and offered food to the cow on a plantain leaf the next day!’
‘Saiba, tell them to loosen these ropes … I’m not well … I’ll die here … I can’t remember anything, if the witness says I did it, it must be true. I have told you all that I know, what more can I say?’
‘You must tell the truth. You must confess to everything.’
‘I don’t know what to say. You tell me, and I’ll say that. My father observed the ekadasi fast and I did the same from a young age. Don’t know when I stopped doing that … can’t remember anything…’
The coir rope dug deep into her wounds and she writhed in agony. ‘Lord, release me, I’ll tell you everything. I’ll bear false witness against myself…’
The priest merely said, ‘Tell the truth!’ and ordered the guard to tug at the rope.
‘Can’t bear this, Lord, I haven’t done anything wrong … what will I tell you? Take pity on me and my children … Let me go … all right I’ll tell the truth. I fasted. I didn’t even drink water that day. I prayed to the Hindu gods. I offered food to the cow … may that cow die and may I die too!’
‘Don’t make false confessions. Tell the truth!’ The rope passed through the torn flesh once more.
‘My head spins. Let me go. I’ll tell you everything, I’ve gone against the law…’
‘What law? Tell the truth.’
‘Whatever the witness has said. He’s my brother-in-law. He wanted me to take my children and go away to my parents’ house. He’s done the right thing. He’s told you the truth. Release me. My arms will be ripped out…’
A doctor, who sat on a stool in one corner, called out for water. A servant brought a small pot of water and poured it over her head. The water splashed into her nose and mouth and she gasped for breath. As the rope cut into her wounds she called out for mercy, ‘I’m a sinner. I’m guilty. I’ll bear witness against myself. Burn me to death but let me go now!’ The woman’s voice grew faint and then fell silent as her head hung down from the plank. The doctor examined her and declared that she wouldn’t be able to bear any more pain. He told them to put some clothes on her body and to take down what she had said as her final confession. He then smeared some ointment on her wounds.
Padre Simao Peres had been listening to her agonized screams for a long while. He couldn’t make out what she said, but the pain in that voice wrenched his heart. When he couldn’t bear it any longer, he lay down on his mat clutching his knees close
to his chest.
It was four days after this incident that Padre Simao Peres was summoned to the Holy assembly yet again.
‘One of the witnesses appearing against you has expressed doubts over your credentials as a Christian priest. Where did you receive your training? Who inducted you formally into priesthood?’ the Chief Inquisitor asked.
‘I studied at St Paul’s Seminary at the Vatican for three years. I was inducted as a priest at that same church,’ Simao Peres replied.
‘Who bestowed his blessings on you? Who officiated at that ceremony?’
‘I feel insulted that I have to explain all this merely because someone doubts my credentials. But I will tell you. The first Mass was conducted by the Vicar of St Paul’s Church, Gabriel Oliver. The Archbishop of the Vatican, James Brodic, delivered the blessings. The secretary of the Holy Pope brought the new robes. Every priest who has studied at the Vatican feels proud that the Holy Father has had a hand in his development.’
‘Who were your fellow students at St Paul’s seminary?’
‘Seven of us received the orders of priesthood at that time. Padre Joshua Paz and Padre Francois Abbe were drowned when their ship sank on the way to Africa. I don’t know where the others are.’
‘What is the Fifth Commandment that Jesus promulgated so that men would live a life of righteousness?’
‘Thou shalt not commit falsehood.’
‘And what punishment did He mark out for those who broke this rule?’
‘Jesus did not mark any punishment.’
‘He didn’t. That’s why people have begun to betray their religion. They get baptized and swear to be good Christians, and then they commit falsehood and betray the Christian faith. They continue to practise the rituals of the Jewish or the Hindu faith. It is to counter such betrayal that we have established the Inquisition. We propagate the teachings of Jesus, we carry out His holy work.’
Padre Simao Peres said in a low but firm voice, ‘Jesus didn’t declare any punishment because He chose to forgive. He believed that love and compassion could win over Satan, too.’
‘Are you saying that we don’t believe in Jesus, that we don’t follow the teachings in the Bible?’
‘No. But…’
The Chief Inquisitor didn’t let him proceed. ‘Do you criticize the Inquisition? Don’t you have faith in it?’ he asked.
Padre Simao Peres remained silent for a while. ‘I agree that you are religious, that you are devoted to the Christian faith … But…’
The Chief Inquisitor raised his hand and cut him off. He rang the silver bell violently and summoned the guards. ‘Your punishment will be declared on the Day of Judgement, before the procession sets out. It is up to you to decide whether you will confess to your crime and ask for pardon,’ he said.
Padre Simao Peres was very upset that these people had cast aspersions on his priesthood. The dark prison cell and the humiliation he was being subjected to depressed him. To be condemned to death by burning when he had committed no crime … maybe it made sense to throw himself at their feet and beg for pardon.
One day, the prison guard came to his cell along with the lawyer who had been engaged on his behalf. ‘Are you aware that I’m supposed to defend you and give you protection according to the law?’ he asked.
‘Jesus will protect me. I don’t trust you. You are on their side. You want to confuse me and have me burnt to death,’ Simao Peres said angrily.
‘The Inquisition proceeds according to a framework of rules and it delivers justice,’ the lawyer replied.
‘I’m innocent. Yet they’ve locked me here to rot in jail. What justice are you talking about?’
‘The Holy assembly of the Inquisition can also be merciful. The sixth of December is the Day of Judgement when those who have been found guilty will be burnt to death. If you do not plead guilty and beg pardon, you will also share their fate. But if you confess of your own accord, you will get a lighter sentence,’ the lawyer told him.
Simao Peres felt himself shivering violently. ‘Yes, yes! I’m guilty. I broke that cross. I said that it was merely a stone structure, I said there was nothing holy about it. I’ll throw myself at the Chief Inquisitor’s feet and beg his pardon!’ he screamed. The priest fell to his knees and raised his arms in supplication, ‘Jesus, my Lord! Why should I die when I have committed no crime? You are my witness, I shall ask for pardon in your name,’ he cried.
‘Jesus will guide you and you will emerge from your troubles,’ the lawyer said as he moved away. The prison guard didn’t utter a word, he merely stood there like a mute witness to the scene.
They summoned him to the Holy assembly on the third day. The priest was weak and listless, the light had gone out of his eyes. He sank to his knees and made the sign of the cross before taking his place on the bench.
‘Do you confess to your crime against your religion?’ the Chief Inquisitor asked.
Simao Peres nodded his head but the Inquisitor told him to speak up.
‘Do you confess to all the crimes?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you commit these crimes consciously?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you make this confession of your own free will?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you commit these crimes because you have no faith in the Christian religion?’
‘I believed in Christianity in the early years. I do so, today. My faith wavered in between.’
‘Do you accept the testimony of all the witnesses, and also your own confession, as the truth?’
‘Yes.’
‘Describe the crimes you have committed against Christianity.’
‘I said it was good that the cross was destroyed. I said it was merely a stone structure and not something divine.’
‘Do you regret your actions?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you beg pardon for your sins? Do you swear that you will be a good Christian henceforth?’
‘Yes.’
The secretary noted every word that was uttered in the Holy assembly. He soon came forward with two sheets of paper for the priest to sign. One was his confession and the other was a plea for pardon. The lawyer who had been engaged in his defence was asked to sign as a witness. The priest was told to kneel before the Chief Inquisitor to beg his pardon and was then led back to his cell. The punishment to be meted out to him would be announced later.
Padre Simao Peres sat silent and stony-faced, leaning against the wall in his cell. What had he done! His brain whirled in confusion. If only death would come at this very instant! But death wouldn’t come so easily, he knew. If he tried to starve to death, the guards would prod him with their sticks and force him to eat. He had no instrument that could be used to end his life. He’d travelled from Spain to the Vatican, to Greece and then back to the Vatican before crossing the mighty ocean to India. Such a profound journey, and now he’d fallen on his knees before them merely to escape being burnt to death! When the guard brought the afternoon meal the priest stared at him blankly. He didn’t touch the food.
‘Why didn’t you eat your lunch? I’ll have to complain to the warden.’
‘The smell of food makes me sick. My stomach twists in agony, I’ll throw up,’ he said, refusing to touch the food despite the guard’s threats.
The prison doctor came the next morning and checked his pulse and felt his skin to see if he was feverish. The priest extended his hand and said, ‘Slit this vein. Let my blood flow out…’
The doctor stared at him intently. ‘There’s no fever. The pulse is weak but it hasn’t sunk so low that we need to let out blood.’ He spooned some white powder into the priest’s mouth and made him drink some water. A fire seemed to engulf his stomach in a while and two guards stood by his side forcing him to eat.
He was summoned to the Holy assembly eight days before the Day of Judgement. When he made a move to sit on the bench after kneeling down and making the sign of the cross, they told him to remain standing.
Old and wizened, Padre Simao Peres seemed to shrink into himself as he stood there shaking his head. ‘The gates of Heaven are opening for me, senor, Jesus is calling out to me. How will I go back to the Vatican now?’
The Chief Inquisitor rang the silver bell. Simao Peres stared at it intently as though it were the bell of death. The guard appeared in the doorway and led him away.
The priest woke up at four in the morning when it was still dark. There was no sound of prisoners coughing or groaning, nor of the guard walking around thumping the ground with his staff. Suddenly the silence was broken by the sound of boots and the low hum of threatening voices cutting through the atmosphere. What was happening, he wondered, when a couple of ghoulish shapes appeared before his cell. The iron door swung open with a grating sound.
Simao Peres stared at the two men. ‘Get up! Take these clothes,’ they barked, thrusting a bundle at him. ‘There will be a procession to mark the Day of Judgement. The guilty will be burnt to death. You are getting these clothes as a sign of mercy.’
‘It was the Pope who gave me my priestly robes, so many years ago!’ Simao Peres sighed as he took off the short pants and short sleeved vest he was wearing and slipped into the long black trousers and black shirt. Over that he wore a knee-length white smock with a large red cross emblazoned on it.
‘Who are you?’ Simao Peres asked the man who had remained in the cell. ‘You don’t look like a guard.’
Age of Frenzy Page 25