by Hadena James
My room was quiet. There was the whooshing of a heating vent. Somewhere down the hall I could faintly hear a TV. Xavier, Gabriel and Lucas were all very quietly staring at me. Michael was busy comparing maker’s marks. No one could find Alejandro.
We were staying at a Hilton. I found this irritating, but at least I had a balcony. The rooms were old fashioned in build. Large ceilings, lots of lights, and big furniture were the dominating features.
The men were unwilling to speak; afraid I’d pounce on them or something. They just stared, quietly, burning holes into me. I didn’t know exactly how to say what I wanted to say without sounding like an idiot, so I hadn’t started yet.
“If this is going to take a while, I’m ordering room service,” Xavier finally said.
He stood up when I made no comment, went to the phone and ordered up food for the four of us. At least, I thought it was for the four of us. It might have been for eight or nine people. I had seen Lucas and Xavier eat before. They could put it away. I was guessing that was why Lucas worked out like he did.
“Lucas, I’d like you to go to the museum tomorrow and interview Doctors Samuels, Leon, Baker and Pickerd. There was something off about one of them, but I want to see what you think.”
“Ok,” Lucas said blandly.
“I think I’m looking at it wrong. I know that the devices are the key to finding the clues, but I haven’t thought much about the person doing the torture.”
“And that’s important?” Lucas asked.
“Yes,” I blinked at him. “What does it take to torture someone?”
“It used to be a sense of righteousness.” Lucas said.
“Exactly. Torturers might be the first documented serial killers when you really think about it. The difference being they were supposed to do it, it was their job. Saying that though, your average person couldn’t have done it, even back then. They could watch as long as they weren’t directly involved. The average person could sit and watch an execution, but they couldn’t partake in them. If they had been the hangman, it just wouldn’t have happened.”
“So you think we need to figure out more about the torturer.” Xavier said.
“Sort of. It dawned on me while I was talking to the others that the Iron Maidens would have had to be ordered way in advance. Probably more than a year ago. This means that the maidens were ordered long before he actually started killing. Each kill is a progression. The first was drawing and quartering. It is violent and painful, but aside from tying the victim up, you don’t really do anything except get the animals moving. Impaling is much more personal, but you don’t sit there and watch them die, it is too slow. That’s why the maidens are so wrong. Like impaling, it can take days. However, these maidens wouldn’t take more than a few minutes…”
“But he dined while they were impaled.” Xavier commented.
“That’s the thing, he did, but either he impaled them and then ate or he came back for the meal or it was completely staged. I don’t know. I just know that he didn’t sit there for two days and watch them die. That would require a special kind of crazy.”
“That would explain the tongues.” Lucas said.
“What?” I asked.
“The impaling victims and the drawing and quartering victims were missing their tongues,” Lucas said.
“That’s kind of standard practice.” I dismissed it.
“Removing the tongue is standard practice?” Gabriel frowned at me.
“Yes. If you plan on torturing someone to death, you remove the tongue. Torture victims are loud and rightly so. That was part of the beauty and horror of the Brazen Bull.”
“What the hell is that? We keep hearing it, but you haven’t explained it.” Xavier scolded.
“Possibly the worst thing to ever happen to a human being. A large bronze bull is created with a hatch in the back. The body is hollow, but not the legs. The victim was stripped naked, their tongue was cut out and they were put inside the body of the bull. Then a fire was lit under the belly. The victim couldn’t scream, but they could move. The movement of the victim would make the bull appear to be alive. But essentially, it was a way to cook a human without the spectators ever seeing the human. Again, the torturer knows. The public knows there is a human inside, but they have the distance because the bull and lack of screaming makes it surreal.”
“I am so sorry that I asked,” Xavier frowned.
“It was invented in Ancient Greece. Not used much during the later Middle Ages, but it was used a few times in the early Middle Ages.” I told him.
“How awful,” Gabriel said.
“I don’t think that even comes close to describing it. Anyway, if you knew you were going to torture someone to death and you weren’t trying to get a confession or other information out of them, you cut out the tongues so they can’t scream.”
“Barbaric.” Xavier commented.
“An art form in itself,” I corrected. “That’s what the marks are about. I don’t know why I didn’t see it earlier. We thought they were random, jumbled messages. We are wrong. They are messages, but not the sort we think. It was very popular to brand people that were sentenced to death or meant to be tortured. The branding reflected the crime and how they were supposed to die. However in some cases, the torturer would also brand them. It was to show who had done it. Torture really was an art form. That’s the part we’ve been missing. We look at it in horror, but in context, it is art. Cutting out the tongue is a good way to kill someone, they bleed to death. Our torturer knows that the knife needs to be hot, needs to sear the vessels closed with the slicing. He didn’t take the tongues of the maiden or scavengers’ victims. He knew they wouldn’t be able to scream. The maiden was too quick. The scavenger victims didn’t have the air. Their knees were in their chest and the screw tightened too fast. They couldn’t scream.”
“The marks on them aren’t random? You think they tell a message or series of messages?” Lucas asked.
“No, I think they tell why they were chosen. I think one of the marks is particular to our killer. He will repeat it, possibly only on one body out of each group. It will be his mark, his signature.”
“Why doesn’t he take trophies?” Gabriel asked.
“We think he does. Until the maidens, we thought the tongues were the trophies. After the maidens, we had to come up with something else. However, what that something else is, is beyond us. He could be taking pictures or a lock of hair or a fingernail clipping. Something from the body that is so minute, it escapes notice.”
“Blood,” I suggested. “It was not unheard of for torturers to keep a vial of blood from each person that they tortured.”
“Why would a torturer keep blood from each of the people he tortures?” Xavier asked.
“Why would anyone keep a souvenir from someone they tortured or kill?” I returned the question.
“You think torturers are the same as serial killers?” Lucas frowned at me.
“Just because you get to legally kill doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy it or it doesn’t give you a sexual thrill. It just means it’s legal and you won’t be tortured for it.”
“By that reasoning…” Xavier started.
“Yes, all torturers from the Middle Ages, probably further back, were already deviants and the ability to kill as well as the ability to torture is not common.” I answered. “Torturers were picked for their inhumanity. Whether they belonged to the Church or to the government didn’t make much of a difference, they were still dedicated to their jobs. And yes, most enjoyed it.”
“Torturers are our first serial killers then?” Gabriel asked.
“Or mass murderers,” I answered, “there is a difference, but not one that is distinguishable for the time period.”
“If our torturer is really leaving his mark on them, what mark?” Lucas asked.
“I have to wonder if it is the death symbol.” I took my laptop out. “Despi
te being put on the bodies in different languages, it gets repeated on almost all the bodies. I think it is his mark.”
“Why the different languages then?” Xavier asked.
“To show how smart he is? Because it was rare for the peasantry to speak the same language as the government? Because different areas spoke different languages? Because he can?” I offered.
“You don’t know.” Xavier grinned.
“If I did, then we might have another piece of the case solved.” I grinned back.
“Different languages, different victims.” Lucas offered.
“That could be or it could be whatever crime, real or imaginary he placed upon them. Or it could just be.”
“What do you think exactly?” Gabriel asked.
“Honestly?” I frowned at him.
“Honestly.”
“I think the languages are just him showing off and keeping us from realizing what is really there. Much like the verse from Revelations that doesn’t exist. Most people have never read Revelations…” I stopped, remembering it.
“What?” Xavier asked.
“Oh it’s just that the verse kind of makes me think of me.” I told him.
“We know,” Xavier cleared his throat.
“You know?
“That was another reason for you being singled out for the consult. Not only do you have experience and the necessary background and expertise, but we think he knows you.” Lucas raised an eyebrow at me.
“And you just now decided to tell me this?”
“We were waiting for you to figure it out.”
“One more reason for you to go to the museum tomorrow,” I stopped because there was a knock on the door.
The food was carried in and set on the small table. It filled it up. The overflow was set out on the long, low to the ground, dresser.
Everyone filled plates. Xavier took a spot on the bed I was sleeping in. I glared at him, he switched beds.
“What’s in the museum exactly?” Lucas had already polished off most of his first plate of food.
“People. I’m good with torture. You’re the one good with people.”
“What exactly bothered you?” Lucas prodded some more.
“Let’s see. What bothered me? Dr. Samuels I think is fine. Dr. Pickerd would know just about everything I know. She didn’t write a thesis on torture, but she is a medievalist and no matter what you think, torture was a part of it. Dr. Leon didn’t really ring any bells. She’s a historian, but she’s a Renaissance historian which means her area of expertise is right at the cusp of the era. She specializes in restoring documents from the Enlightenment.”
“And Dr. Baker?” Xavier asked.
“In theory, his specialty is military history of the last two centuries. He gets kept on staff because he knows more about weapons than most people. But he said he didn’t know much about torture. That seems to contradict his expertise. He also mentioned the Brazen Bull. It wasn’t popular in the Middle Ages, it was popular before that time period, but there are a couple of infamous incidents with the Brazen Bull in the Middle Ages that instantly pop into mind when talking about torture. For someone who doesn’t know much about it, why pick that? Why not pick burning at the stake? That is the illusion. Burning at the stake was supposed to be popular.”
“Ah, you got a creepy vibe because he picked an actual torture device?” Xavier sighed.
“No, I got the vibe because he picked an obscure torture device all the while protesting that he didn’t know much about torture and instead of picking the obvious answer. I can see why Pickerd and Samuels said other things. I can even see Leon picking something else. But why Baker? Why did he pick an obscure piece that no American museum has?”
“Really, there isn’t one in all of the US?” Lucas made a face.
“If there is, I haven’t heard of it.” I answered, “I’ll rephrase that. If there is one, I have never heard of it being displayed. I’m sure there are some, replicas and relics alike. I’m sure there are some in private collections. But I’ve never actually seen one displayed in the US.”
“Well, your hunches aside, is there anything else about the guy?”
“He’s met me before.” I pointed out.
“When?” Lucas asked.
“A couple of years ago, when I was at the Field for their exhibit. I met Dr. Samuels, Dr. Leon and Dr. Baker. Dr. Pickerd is the one they hired when I turned down the position of medievalist on their staff.”
“Why did you turn it down?”
“Grants. I would have to do public speaking to get grants and that just isn’t happening. My department would flounder and I, as well as my staff, would have been out of work pretty quickly.”
“You give presentations on torture but you can’t present to get a grant?” Lucas narrowed his eyes at me.
“I can talk about torture and the Middle Ages all day long. Asking people to give me money so I can talk about torture and the Middle Ages all day long is a completely different beast. It requires me to not only know my area of expertise but pretend I like people and kiss their asses.”
“Interesting.” Gabriel was refilling his plate with chicken and rice.
“Well, at least I’m honest.” I told him.
“Ok, I’ll go tomorrow to see if I can get any information from their body language.”
“Great,” I finally filled a plate. I grabbed a piece of eggplant parmesan and some green beans.
“I’ll tell them I want to get into the psychology of the time.”
“Historians can’t help but listen to themselves talk about their periods of expertise. You’ll have lots to work with.” I grinned again. “Look at me.”
“Yes indeed,” Lucas made the face again.
“No more talk about death, let’s just eat.” Gabriel offered as he forked a bit of lamb into his mouth.
“If we aren’t going to talk about death, what are we going to talk about?” Xavier asked.
“Football?” I suggested with a giggle. We finished eating in silence.
Chapter 21
