Part 43 (1/2)
”I would have preferred not to be present,” replied Father Salvi, in a low voice, without taking notice of the bitter tone.... ”I am very nervous.”
”As no one came, I decided that, in order not to leave the chair empty, your presence.... You already know that the prisoners are to leave town this afternoon.”
”Young Ibarra and the teniente mayor?”
The alferez pointed toward the jail.
”Eight are in there,” said he. ”Bruno died last night at midnight, but his declaration has been obtained.”
The curate saluted Dona Consolacion, who responded with a yawn and an ”aah!” The friar took the big chair under the picture of His Majesty.
”We can begin,” said he.
”Bring out the two who are in the stocks!” ordered the alferez in his most terrifying voice. And turning to the curate, he added, changing his tone:
”They are fastened in the stocks with two holes vacant!”
For those who are interested in instruments of torture, we will say that the stocks is one of the most innocent. The holes in which are fastened the legs of the prisoner are a little more or less than a palm apart. Leaving two holes vacant, and putting the prisoner's legs in the holes on either side, would make the position strained, so that the ankles would suffer peculiarly and the lower extremities be stretched apart more than a yard. It does not kill instantly, as may well be imagined.
The turnkey, followed by four soldiers, drew back the bolt and opened the door. A nauseating odor, and the thick, damp air escaped from the dense darkness of the prison and, at the same time, groans and sighs were heard. A soldier lighted a match, but the flame was extinguished in that foul, vitiated atmosphere, and they had to wait till the air was renewed.
In the vague light of a candle, several human forms could be discerned. They were men, some of whom locked their arms around their knees and hid their heads between them, others were lying down, with their mouths to the ground, some standing, and some leaning against the wall. A blow and a creaking sound was heard, accompanied by oaths; the stocks were being opened.
Dona Consolacion's body was bent forward, the muscles of her neck were rigid, her eyes riveted to the half open door.
Between the soldiers came out Tarsilo, the brother of Bruno. He wore handcuffs. His torn clothes disclosed well-developed muscles. His eyes were fixed insolently on the alferez's wife.
”This is the one who defended himself most bravely, and who ordered his companions to flee,” said the alferez to Father Salvi.
Behind came another miserable sight, a man crying and weeping like a child. He was limping and his pantaloons were stained with blood.
”Mercy, senor, have mercy! I will not enter the cuartel yard again,”
he cried.
”He is a crafty fellow,” said the alferez, speaking to the curate. ”He wanted to flee, but had received a flesh wound.”
”What is your name?” asked the alferez, speaking to Tarsilo.
”Tarsilo Alasigan.”
”What did Don Crisostomo promise you for attacking the cuartel?”
”Don Crisostomo has never communicated with us.”
”Don't deny it! You wanted to surprise us for him!”
”You are mistaken. You whipped our father to death. We avenged him and nothing more. Look for your two soldiers!”
The alferez looked at the sergeant, surprised.