The Cabinet of Curiosities Read Online Free PDF Page B

again and Lukas marvelled at his courage until he realised he was unconscious or worse. Despite his own terror, Lukas wondered what the poor man had done to deserve such hellish treatment.
    He heard the door at the top of the staircase burst open and a small spring of hope fluttered in his breast. Uncle Anselmus? Surely someone would have told him his nephew had arrived.
    There were several sets of footsteps clattering down the stairs. Lukas craned his neck to see.
    A gaunt, severe-looking man with cropped white hair swept into the room accompanied by three soldiers and a priest. ‘Has the wretch confessed?’ he said to the fat man.
    ‘No, Grand Inquisitor,’ he replied with a bow.
    The gaunt man ordered water to be thrown over the unconscious prisoner. Lukas watched with mounting terror. Was this what they were going to do to him?
    The prisoner began to groan and then came to. ‘Do you admit to consorting with Satan and all his minions?’ said the Inquisitor.
    The man gibbered hysterically.
    ‘See how he mocks us,’ said the Inquisitor. ‘See how he laughs in our face.’ He turned to the hooded man again. ‘Apply the iron.’
    Lukas turned away and heard a ghastly scream.
    When he could bear to look he saw that the prisoner had passed out again.
    ‘He is being assisted by Satan,’ said the Inquisitor. ‘The dark one has lulled him into sleep. See how he has not a care in the world. Apply the iron.’
    Lukas steeled himself for another scream, but none came.
    ‘Even my poker cannot raise him from his slumber,’ said the man in the hood.
    ‘More water,’ said the Inquisitor. The man was doused again.
    After a pause the Inquisitor looked at the prisoner, then stepped forward and held his wrist. He placed a brass ear trumpet on the man’s chest and listened.
    ‘He’s dead,’ he snarled, and struck the fat man with the trumpet, denting it with the force of his blow. ‘If you kill any more of the prisoners, I shall begin to suspect you are an agent of Beelzebub – sent to spare his disciples from the wrath of the Inquisition.’
    ‘My lord,’ said the man fearfully, ‘I have taken every care. This one must have been weakened by his wickedness. Perhaps the succubi have been visiting him at night?’
    It was strange to see the torturer so afraid. He could easily have picked up the Inquisitor and thrown his spindly body against the wall or even the bed of spikes that was propped upright close to Lukas’s cell.
    ‘And who else do we have?’ said the Inquisitor.
    ‘One from the country, accused of bewitching his neighbour’s cattle,’ said another, more confident voice. Lukas guessed it was one of the soldiers. ‘And a vagrant. Tried to enter the Castle under false pretences.’
    ‘Well, he’s no concern of mine,’ said the Inquisitor, ‘and the sorcerer can wait a little longer.’ He turned on his heels and left.
    Lukas sat down in his cell and tried to ignore the gnawing in his guts. He felt exhausted, and the warmth from the braziers used to heat the irons was making him drowsy. Despite the terrible scenes playing in his head he fell into a fitful sleep. As he dozed he became aware that he was being sprinkled by something. At first he thought it was rain from a leaking roof, but he quickly recognised the sour smell of urine.
    Lukas looked up, disbelief etched on his face. There, in the shadows above him, unnoticed before, was a cage with another prisoner in it.
    ‘Stop it,’ he shouted, his fear briefly exceeded by revulsion.
    ‘You should have to worry about far worse things than that,’ said a sheepish voice above his head. ‘What else am I supposed to do? Let my bladder burst?’
    ‘Silence,’ said a guard somewhere in the dungeon.
    His misery complete, Lukas fought back tears. There was another clatter of boots on stone stairs. ‘Present me with the boy and hand me a leading stick,’ said a stern voice.
    The cell door was unbolted and Lukas was grabbed by the shoulders. He was held