Ferdinand has served his fellow-travellers faithfully. he has cared for their horses, waited upon them at table, filling their glasses with wine, and he has done it in a courtly way. The landlords, quite likely, have noticed that he is the prince of servants; but not one of them, probably, has mistrusted that he is indeed a prince — son of the King of Aragon; nor do they mistrust that he is travelling in disguise to be married to Isabella, Princess of Castile; that he has taken this way to escape those who are opposed to the match, and who would lay hands upon him if possible.
Isabella never has seen Ferdinand, who is a year younger than herself; but of all the suitors for her hand she has selected him, and is greatly pleased to find him all that her fancy has pictured. She is very religions, says her prayers, and goes regularly to confession.
On the 19th of October, 1469, the marriage is consummated, for,
though J^etdinand lias left his purse behind, Ills credit is good. There is a great gathering of grandees, noblea, and ladies — two thousand or piore — wearing rich dresses; and by the marriage the kingdoms of Aragon and Castile are united, making the Spain of these later years.
After her marriage she has another confessor, Thomas de Torquemada, a Dominican monk, who wears a black cowl.
"I want you to make a promise," he says to Isabella.
"What is it?"
"That when you come to the throne, you will exterminate heresy."
Isabella promises to do as he desires.
The years go by, and after the death of her brother Henry, in 1476, Isabella is queen. There are heretics in Spain, men who dare to think for themselves. That is a terrible crime in the eyes of Thomas de Torquemada, and it must be stopped. The Pope has an institution already organized by which heretics can be rooted out — the Holy Office, as it is called. The men connected with it are Inquisitors, or men who ask questions. Thomas de Torquemada is chief questioner. the men who ask questions do it in private. If they have a suspicion that a man is an unbeliever, they may arrest him, and bring him to their secret chamber and question him. These are their rules: Any one may witness against an accused person. The Holy Office may take the evidence of one heretic against another; but a heretic's evidence in favor of a person is good for nothing. If two witnesses testify one in favor and the other against a person, the testimony of the first is to be rejected, while the last shall be accepted, A wife may testify against a husband, and it shall be received; but if she testifies in his favor, it shall be rejected; and so with the husband against the wife, or children against parents, or parents against children. If a witness does not testify all that the questioner desires, they may put him to the torture.
The questioning takes place in an out-of-the-way chamber, in a building that has thick stone-walls — so thick that no moan or wail will reach the ears of the passer-by. There is the thumb-screw — a little vise in which the accused must put his thumb, and then the screw is turned a little. It begins to bite. Another turn; it bites harder. More turning, a little at a time, till the end of the thumb is as thin almost as a wafer — mashed to a jelly, and the blood oozes from every pore.
There is a ring-bolt in the floor, a pulley overhead. The questioners tie the feet of the prisoners to the ring, their hands to the pulley; then tug at the rope till the arms of the accused are almost pulled from the shoulders, and their legs from the body.
Another instrument is the rack. The prisoner is thrown upon a ladder and his feet tied to iron bolts in the wall, and hid arms to a windlass, and men with levers work it till the knees and arms are pulled from their sockets. Another instrument is the rolling bench — a table studded with projecting knobs of oak. The accused are stripped to the skin, thrown upon the table, tied hands and feet, and a heavy roller filled with knobs rolled over them, grinding the flesh to jelly.
There are punches for punching holes in the ears and tongues of the heretics, and skewers to run through them, and pincers for pulling their tongues out by the roots, knotted whips, iron collars set with sharp teeth, chains, ball?, manacles.
They fasten the beads of the accused in a frame, put a gag in their month, propping the jaws apart Above them is a dish filled with water, which drips into their throat. Drip, drip, drip, it falls hour after hour. Swallow they must till they are filled to suffocation.
Men and women, maidens in their youth and beauty, have the clothes torn from their backs, and they must stand exposed before these questioners. The Holy Office is amenable to no law. From the decision of Thomas de Torquemada there is no appeal. No one is exempt from his jurisdiction. Rich as well as poor are arrested. It is easy to accuse men, and those who never have dreamed of being heretics find themselves in the clutches of Torquemada. Men who are their enemies swear that they are heretics, to cause their arrest, torture, confiscation of property, and death by burning — so taking revenge.
Isabella and Ferdinand urge the men who ask questions to do their work thoroughly — to let no heretic escape, especially if they have money, for by confiscating their property the king and queen and the Pope will replenish their purses. Thomas de Torquemada is not the man to let the grass grow under his feet, especially when his share of the plunder will be a goodly portion.
The Holy Office is not a new institution. Pope Innocent VIII., who has appointed Thomas de Torquemada to superintend it in Spain, did not inaugurate it, for other popes have used it to exterminate heresy. Innocent has set it in operation in Spain to bring money into his pocket. All the world regards the Pope as being God's agent on earth, with power to pass them into heaven, consign them to purgatory, or send them to everlasting torments. All power is given him; he has the keys of heaven and hell. No one disputes his authority, none dare to protest against it. His agents — the men whom he appoints — are to be obeyed. When men have absolute power, they do as they please. If they are greedy for money they will seize whatever they can lay their hands on. If they are hard-hearted, they will find pleasure in witnessing the sufferings of those on whom they exercise their power. It is an age in which pity and tenderness are unknown. To be tender-hearted is to be weak. It is an age of brute force. Might makes right. Men have no individual rights. There are no courts of law to protect them.
Thomas de Torquemada is cruel. It is a pleasure to him to see men put to the torture — to hear their bones crack, to see them writhe in pain, while being roasted to death over slow fires. He sends men through Spain to discover who there may be that he can accuse of heresy. If a man has a spite against his neighbor, and wishes to ruin him, he has but to whisper to the Inquisitors that his neighbor is a heretic. The Inquisitors are quick to hurry him to prison, put him to torture, sentence him to death; and then, when the fire has done its work, they seize his property, keeping a portion for themselves, and sending the rest to Pope Innocent. He is greedy for wealth. He puts it in operation in Rome. If a man in Rome commits murder, or any other crime, he can go clear of punishment by paying a good sum to the Pope. He puts money into his pockets by licensing priests to keep taverns, play-houses, and other establishments