Mistress of the Souls
Gothic Novel
Science Fiction & Fantasy, Historical, Fiction & Literature, Short Stories, Romance
| Author: | Carol Grayson | ISBN: | 1230000271588 |
| Publisher: | Carola Kickers | Publication: | October 1, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Language: | German |
| Author: | Carol Grayson |
| ISBN: | 1230000271588 |
| Publisher: | Carola Kickers |
| Publication: | October 1, 2014 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | German |
"Mistress of the Soul" is a historical Gothic Novel by Carol Grayson.
Excerpt:
„Hanna Martin, you are hereby charged with witchcraft and fornication with the devil. Your own stepfather accuses you of being the cause of many bad harvests,” the judge thundered behind the simple wooden lectern. “Speak, child! You must speak!” pleaded the town clergyman who was the appointed observer. The young thing with long, blond braids stood in front of the tribunal in a simple cilice weaved from coarse linen. Barefooted, the marks from the heavy chains clearly visible, she stared at the floor, her eyes reddened from constant crying. “Even your Mother was charged with witchcraft and burned,“ the clergyman once again warned, “and your stepfather was also the plaintiff in that case.” “He’s lying,” the intimidated girl responded. “He had Mother burned at the stake and now he wants to get rid of me.“
“Why should he want to do that?“ the judge demanded.
“He wants to have the farm for himself and his lover.”
“That’s not true!” bellowed a voice in the crowd that had been following the process with curiosity and disgust. “Pardon me, your Grace,” responded the somewhat thickset, middle-aged man who had stood up outraged and then sat back down. The judge then turned to the accused and questioned, “Who is his lover?“
“The maidservant Gertrud,“ the girl responded. The man in the crowd started to stand up again, when the judge gave him an unmistakable signal he should stay seated.
“How do you plea to the accusal of ‘fornication with the devil’?” he now asked the girl.
“I’m still untouched!” Her answer was almost inaudible. The judge cleared his throat. “Well, we can’t ascertain that here, but your stepfather has told us about how rebellious you’ve been recently and now we’re also dealing with false accusations? I hope you realize the seriousness of the matter. If you don’t talk now, torture will break your silence!”
Horrified, Hanna lifted her head and looked at the judge with her beautiful, blue child-like eyes, which were still full of tears. She could expect no mercy from this tribunal. Not at this time when the screams of burning women from all the towns and villages rang out to the heavens. In such times, one could trust neither neighbours nor friends. Regardless of what a female did – especially one as beautiful as Hanna – it could be considered witchcraft and charges could be pressed. This is how villages ridded themselves of unwanted fellow citizens or ruthlessly retaliated against one person or another. With Hanna, it was a simple question of her beauty. After the death of her mother, her stepfather Josef – a well-known philanderer – had tried to make awkward sexual advances but she abruptly refused him. Subsequently, he then provided the town clergyman with a small hint.
Soon thereafter, the henchmen of the Inquisition collected the girl from the farm as she was getting ready to drive the geese to pasture. She screamed for help and begged her stepfather, but he remained motionless watching her being deported in the iron-barred cage
on the flat-bed carriage pulled by two strong horses – directly to the dungeon of Castle Felsenthal.
Currently, the town clergyman was consulting with the judge and both jury members. He then turned and spoke directly to the girl, “The pastor has put in a good word for you. You will be tortured for three days until the next full moon. If at that time, you are still convinced of your innocence, then divine judgment shall succeed.” The judge then confirmed the sentence by pounded his mallet on the lectern three times.
Two henchmen led the girl back to the dungeon where they roughly threw her onto the foul-smelling straw like an animal to be slaughtered and then closed and locked the heavy iron doors behind her. The scant sunlight in the dim cell left Hanna feeling lost in time. However, it did seem to be night time when the doors reopened. Torchlight from the corridor flooded the cell in an ominous-looking form. A man wearing a torturer’s mask entered the tiny room. Frightened, Hanna held her hand tightly against her mouth.
Not being fastened with chains, she could have moved around freely within the few square meters of stone and straw but instead had cowered into a corner under the tiny window blocked by iron bars.
“Do you want to live?” the man asked in an eloquent voice. Hanna stared at the stranger.
"Mistress of the Soul" is a historical Gothic Novel by Carol Grayson.
Excerpt:
„Hanna Martin, you are hereby charged with witchcraft and fornication with the devil. Your own stepfather accuses you of being the cause of many bad harvests,” the judge thundered behind the simple wooden lectern. “Speak, child! You must speak!” pleaded the town clergyman who was the appointed observer. The young thing with long, blond braids stood in front of the tribunal in a simple cilice weaved from coarse linen. Barefooted, the marks from the heavy chains clearly visible, she stared at the floor, her eyes reddened from constant crying. “Even your Mother was charged with witchcraft and burned,“ the clergyman once again warned, “and your stepfather was also the plaintiff in that case.” “He’s lying,” the intimidated girl responded. “He had Mother burned at the stake and now he wants to get rid of me.“
“Why should he want to do that?“ the judge demanded.
“He wants to have the farm for himself and his lover.”
“That’s not true!” bellowed a voice in the crowd that had been following the process with curiosity and disgust. “Pardon me, your Grace,” responded the somewhat thickset, middle-aged man who had stood up outraged and then sat back down. The judge then turned to the accused and questioned, “Who is his lover?“
“The maidservant Gertrud,“ the girl responded. The man in the crowd started to stand up again, when the judge gave him an unmistakable signal he should stay seated.
“How do you plea to the accusal of ‘fornication with the devil’?” he now asked the girl.
“I’m still untouched!” Her answer was almost inaudible. The judge cleared his throat. “Well, we can’t ascertain that here, but your stepfather has told us about how rebellious you’ve been recently and now we’re also dealing with false accusations? I hope you realize the seriousness of the matter. If you don’t talk now, torture will break your silence!”
Horrified, Hanna lifted her head and looked at the judge with her beautiful, blue child-like eyes, which were still full of tears. She could expect no mercy from this tribunal. Not at this time when the screams of burning women from all the towns and villages rang out to the heavens. In such times, one could trust neither neighbours nor friends. Regardless of what a female did – especially one as beautiful as Hanna – it could be considered witchcraft and charges could be pressed. This is how villages ridded themselves of unwanted fellow citizens or ruthlessly retaliated against one person or another. With Hanna, it was a simple question of her beauty. After the death of her mother, her stepfather Josef – a well-known philanderer – had tried to make awkward sexual advances but she abruptly refused him. Subsequently, he then provided the town clergyman with a small hint.
Soon thereafter, the henchmen of the Inquisition collected the girl from the farm as she was getting ready to drive the geese to pasture. She screamed for help and begged her stepfather, but he remained motionless watching her being deported in the iron-barred cage
on the flat-bed carriage pulled by two strong horses – directly to the dungeon of Castle Felsenthal.
Currently, the town clergyman was consulting with the judge and both jury members. He then turned and spoke directly to the girl, “The pastor has put in a good word for you. You will be tortured for three days until the next full moon. If at that time, you are still convinced of your innocence, then divine judgment shall succeed.” The judge then confirmed the sentence by pounded his mallet on the lectern three times.
Two henchmen led the girl back to the dungeon where they roughly threw her onto the foul-smelling straw like an animal to be slaughtered and then closed and locked the heavy iron doors behind her. The scant sunlight in the dim cell left Hanna feeling lost in time. However, it did seem to be night time when the doors reopened. Torchlight from the corridor flooded the cell in an ominous-looking form. A man wearing a torturer’s mask entered the tiny room. Frightened, Hanna held her hand tightly against her mouth.
Not being fastened with chains, she could have moved around freely within the few square meters of stone and straw but instead had cowered into a corner under the tiny window blocked by iron bars.
“Do you want to live?” the man asked in an eloquent voice. Hanna stared at the stranger.
