by Stefania Gil
Everything was thought out. He had planned well and things were going according to plan. He had to be patient, stay calm, and more importantly, win the trust of the damn disgusting Inquisitor General.
This time, it seemed death was on its own side, and as expected, it would not bring him to it.
***
Francisco was taken to a clean parlor; in the center was a rather large rectangular dining table. The solid wood was covered by an immaculate white tablecloth with fine elegant gold embroideries.
There was enough food on this table to feed all the prisoners in the cells like he was in.
His stomach rumbled at the sight of the delicious freshly made food. The room was flooded with the aromas of those delicacies. He inhaled deep and his stomach roared once again.
He wanted to jump on the table and eat like a savage. He inhaled profoundly once again concentrating on all the self-control he possessed. He didn’t know exactly why he was there but knew very well those bastards didn’t give anything for free.
The guards pushed him onward toward the table. With each step Francisco sensed himself losing his willpower. He began to salivate as he approached the delicacies.
“Francisco! Boy!” Exclaimed the Inquisitor General as he approached him upon entering the room. He held out the hand in which he wore the ring making him a representative of the Holy Church and looked at Francisco with irony.
Francisco gave the same lop-sided ironic smile as he bent down to kiss his damn hand. When his lips came into contact with the ring’s cold metal worn on his fat finger, he felt an uncontainable urge to bite his finger off. Once more he concentrated on restraining himself so he would appear reasonable and civilized. His goal went beyond ripping off filthy fingers.
He peered at the Inquisitor again, and smiled mockingly.
“I see you want the mercy of the lord, my son.”
Francisco thought about how much the swine would scream when he began to torture him because he would.
“The Lord blessed me with...” Francisco stopped, noticing the guards and then the Inquisitor’s eyes.
“Go on boy, these are my most trusted men.”
“This is something serious, sir.”
“We know,” the Inquisitor raised a suspicious eyebrow at Francisco, “they will always remain at my side.”
Francisco nodded. He had no choice but to speak in front of these men as well. He would have preferred to be alone with the pig in front of him to earn his trust quickly.
The inquisitor beckoned him to sit next to him at the table. A couple of women appeared to serve the food. Francisco was released from his chains to eat more comfortably.
As soon as the Inquisitor finished blessing the food, Francisco couldn’t wait any longer. He began to eat.
What a treat!
The food was hot, clean, and succulent.
A lump rose in his throat but he swallowed it with the next bite. He couldn’t flinch at this moment. From now on, he had to behave as one of them to gain their trust and to get out of here according to his plan which he replayed in his head a thousand times.
“Son,” said the Inquisitor as the women began to serve the second round of food, “please tell me what you wanted to tell me when I arrived, and why you did not trust my men?”
“The Lord blessed me with everlasting life,” Francisco finished with the sign of the cross.
The Inquisitor sipped his wine.
“I thought you said it was your mother who prepared the potion.”
“That's right, but I would like to think it was the Lord who blessed me, not my mother, the damn witch who did this to me. She forced us” Francisco suddenly felt an extreme ache in his soul for blaming his late mother for something he knew she was not. However, he couldn’t withstand the gravity of his confession and erupted into tears. Inside, he cried for his mother's condemnation and for forgiveness of his cruel behavior and the disrespectful manner he spoke of her.
The Inquisitor laid a hand on his shoulder while Francisco wept in dismay.
“Don’t worry, my son, you will be acquitted of all your sins and those of your mother for becoming the devil's whore, could have bound you with. The women are nothing more than that.” He glared with disgust at those present at the moment, “devil’s whores.”
Both women lowered their heads low as they could and closed their eyes. Francisco could see the younger one began to tremble.
“I'm going to be left alone in the world and I don’t want to be.” He knelt beside the inquisitor who told his guards to stay where they were, when they came to his aid upon seeing Francisco's sudden movement.
He feigned fear of the guard’s approach.
“I do not want to be alone, sir.” He kissed the inquisitor's hands. “I have no one left; my brother was also my mother’s victim. I have not seen him since, so I suppose my mother's magical tortures had no effect on him.”
The inquisitor remained expressionless. Francisco expected some revelation of Juan Carlos’ whereabouts but didn’t get any.
He kissed his hands in despair, and the inquisitor clutched his.
“Show me the way to righteousness, sir, and please, release me from this curse.”
The Inquisitor came close to him and whispered in his ear:
“There is no curse, my son, I absolve you of all your sins until this moment and purify your soul but, you must give me your mother's magic recipe. You said you knew it.”
Francisco nodded as he returned to his seat.
“I know it, by heart.”
“You'll let these two know what you need, and when you have it, prepare it for me.”
“Sir, why would you want to possess such a terrible curse?”
The Inquisitor smirked.
“It's a curse for an ordinary person, son. For you it has been a blessing because it will allow you to join us, thus releasing you from the loneliness that terrifies you so. For us, it will be a blessing because we can fight against Satan’s temptations on earth for eternity. Do you know how many lives we will save?”
Surely not yours, bastard, Francisco thought as he observed the unscrupulous man’s greedy expression before him.
He fell to his knees again and kissed the inquisitor's hands once more. At this rate, he would have to tear off his mouth in disgust for every time he made the gesture.
He stared into his eyes, feigning concern.
“What I need is to sow it and harvest it myself, in an atmosphere of peace, free from so much filth.” He glanced to where the women were. “We cannot trust anyone for this, sir.”
He glimpsed a moment of doubt in the accursed man’s gaze, but his greed surpassed it.
“We will arrange everything, my son. You will be taken to a place where, for the good of humanity, you will purge your sins by granting us the secret weapon to overcome the evil one.”
Francisco kissed his hands again.
Yes, he would need to tear off his mouth because he was already beginning to feel rotten.
***
Francisco didn’t know exactly where they took him. Geographically, he didn’t recognize the place although he realized he was in the country in a cabin that seemed to be isolated.
Two and a half years had passed since the Inquisitor had taken him to the desolate site. He had no way to escape. The house was guarded by three guards and in addition, his feet were still tired.
Yes, they kept him shackled so he could not escape in any fashion. It took time to get used to walking long distances without the guard’s help due to the chains connecting his ankles. It did not allow him to separate his legs to walk easier.
He got used to it.
Just as he became accustomed to behaving like a bastard.
He was very sorry for all of his actions, especially what he did to women who passed through his hands. He only did it to survive. With each act, he did nothing more than apologize to his mother for what he did to the girl crying disconsolately beneath him while sexual obscenities f
lowed from his mouth.
He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do to overcome all those terrible memories, but he hoped to find some peace as soon as he got rid of those bastards.
He wanted to kill them all, and he would do it this day.
When he was transferred there, he told the Inquisitor in order for the immortality potion to work; he should plant and harvest the herbs. Also the herbs should be outdoors for at least 24 lunar cycles.
It was time to collect the seed and start the preparations.
He was waiting for the Inquisitor's visit at any moment. He had already prepared the dried herbs in a bowl. Just add boiling water and voilà.
The last time the Inquisitor visited him, he demanded Francisco make the potion because he felt he was aging more and more. Aging took away his strength to fight against evil.
Francisco looked around, remembering that day.
The bastard arrived with two girls and lots of food for everyone present. Yes, the feast of food and sex was also enjoyed by the guards who later, ended up drunk, naked and exposed on their cots. The poor girls glared at him with hatred while he tried to feed and clean them the next morning of the sadistic act.
Many spat on him and cursed him.
He observed them with compassion and with every glimpse at them, he asked for their mercy and forgiveness.
He was not clear whom he was asking, he believed in anyone. The God for whom he swore to a thousand times before the Inquisitor and thanked for the salvation of his sins, didn’t exist.
There couldn’t be a deity who did not lend a hand to those who needed him most, as was the case with those women who would end up at the stake sooner or later.
What a disgrace in the world!
Many nights, Francisco, drowned his pillow with tears. He became more and more miserable and guilt was eating him alive.
He still couldn’t understand what real sins were to those bastards. Did stealing a woman's integrity and hurting her in a thousand ways possible not a sin? They said sex for pleasure was a sin but they were absolved from all guilt because they were Satan’s whores. Witches.
His stomach churned with every disgusting memory filtering through his mind.
He heard the chariot approaching the cabin just as he finished setting the table to welcome the Inquisitor General. He prayed with his entire soul to whoever was listening, the accursed one would be completely alone.
A supreme relief washed over him when he saw the inquisitor exit the chariot alone. He didn’t even bring the two men who usually accompanied him on this trip. Francisco only saw them when they picked him up a couple of days later.
This meant they were not entirely isolated from the nearest city, in which the torture zone had been removed a few years earlier.
Which was a plus for his plan he had reviewed very well in the last days.
“My son,” said the Inquisitor entering the cabin and extending his hand.
Francisco ran to kiss the ring. He could not fail in any of the steps so no one would suspect him at the last moment.
He helped him sit on his chair in the space. The Inquisitor General, who seemed to have gained a lot of weight in recent months, scrambled into his seat, smiling at him with satisfaction and lacing his fingers over his huge belly.
“Do you have it?”
Francisco smiled and nodded.
“Let's not wait any longer,” the inquisitor extended his hands to Francisco.
“Don’t be impatient, my lord,” Francisco replied, placing the dried plant leaves in a cauldron of boiling water. “We'll wait for them to distill. In the meantime, please allow me to serve you something to eat.”
The inquisitor nodded.
Francisco, with a lively song that reminded him of his sweet mother, served the food to the unfortunate man he wanted to get rid of.
Don’t make any mistakes today, he repeated over and over again to calm his nerves. The time was near to see if the magic potion would end the Inquisitor’s life the first damn time.
He smiled maliciously at his jailer’s back as he watched the steaming cauldron expelling the herbal scents the Inquisitor believed would grant him eternal life. Actually it would lead to his death.
The cauldron only distilled the potion, if at all, would relieve a stomachache while providing a good rest to those whom drank it. However, at the bottom of the Inquisitor’s glass, lay a soft paste of Belladonna berries.
It was a real miracle to find Belladonna on the grounds of the hut. In his initial plan, this phase was always incomplete because he had not yet figured out how in the heck to ask for belladonna or any other plant to poison him. After much thought, he considered closing the matter by assuring the brew needed a little Belladonna so it could produce the desired effect. It would be like resurrecting from death as the Christ they worshiped and in the name they were doing all this filth, did.
What luck he had while searching through the plants already planted! He did so with absolute discretion. The inquisitor nor the guards ever told him who the house belonged to. They only said he could find what he needed to start the process. Francisco knew the herbs well because his mother taught him about the properties of each and above all to differentiate the poisonous from the good ones. Among those Francisco discovered many good herbs, but they served only as a cover for the other. He recognized them immediately and took care of them the whole time.
It seemed reasonable to him the cabin belonged to what was considered a witch.
They used those types of plants in a lot of their spells.
In any case, whoever planted them there allowing them to be used, he was eternally grateful. That was the key to his freedom.
First, he would take care of the Inquisitor and then the guards.
“As I have already explained, this brew will leave you unconscious for a couple of days.”
“My men know. I told them we would be doing an experiment and they should not disturb us until they saw me come out the door again.”
Francisco nodded.
He stood up and poured some of the concoction. He picked up bread and cheese and took it to the guards outside. They would stay there per the Inquisitor’s orders.
On the way back, he picked up another glass and poured the same brew his jailer would be drinking.
“Do you want to become more immortal, boy?”
Francisco smiled amusingly, opening a jar and taking out a small cloth bag.
He put everything in place, then took the two glasses and sat down in front of the Inquisitor.
He placed the cup he had prepared with the belladonna.
“Sir, the drink is made of medicinal plants. This is what makes it special and you can only consume it,” he said, showing him the bag.
He got up and reached for a wooden spoon to stir the drink.
The Inquisitor was sweating. Nervous. Anxious. Anyone could look at his face and see how much he longed to become immortal. To have all the power a human being could obtain.
He didn’t know what he would do next. The man only said he would fight against evil with more force. Francisco doubted this would happen. Rather he believed the man would be the very embodiment of evil for all eternity.
A chill crept through his body just thinking of the perpetual and caliber of evil.
It was abominable.
“My mother always explained this ingredient very carefully due to it being the secret ingredient. It is what makes the formula effective. She checked with us. She did not know if it would work when she gave the potion to my brother and me. It was just an experiment that ended with a positive result for her.”
“It was for you, too,” replied the Inquisitor.
“After you pardoned me, sir. It used to be impure.”
“Do not think about it anymore, boy, tell me this ingredient’s importance. I have great plans for us once I awaken from this life. If this is the secret ingredient I think we'll need more of it.”
He planned to make an army of im
mortals.
Francisco’s soul plummeted to his feet at such a monstrous idea.
He took one of the Inquisitor's hands, turning it around to leave his palm exposed.
He took a pinch of what he kept so zealously inside the bag and poured it over the man's hands.
“Holly Powder.”
The inquisitor observed his hand as if it had been dusted with gold.
Damn.
Francisco put the wooden spoon in the bag. He filled it almost completely and emptied it into the Inquisitor’s drink. He stirred, then nodded, meeting his eyes.
He caught a glimpse of the man's gaze in front of him.
Without saying a word, he took the glass to his lips and took the first sip.
He wrinkled his face at the drink.
“Gross.”
Francisco smirked at him.
“Nothing that does the body good tastes good, sir.”
He was pleased to see the Inquisitor drank the rest of the contents at once.
Nothing could save this man from imminent death. He combined two of the most potent poisons he knew, and within a short span of time the results would begin to appear.
The holly was not poisonous but he couldn’t tell the Inquisitor it was Devil's Gingerbread Dust. Due to his misfortune, most of the names contained 'devil' or 'witches' were poisonous and recognized by their names in the Holy Inquisition.
The guards knocked on the door twice to indicate to Francisco the utensils they used were left there. He had to pick them up and clean them.
“Get that, boy, it's your job.”
The inquisitor said. He was sweating more than usual now. Francisco blinked a couple of times and did as he was told. He left the dirty wood that served as a kitchen counter and poured three cups of the potion for the guards.
“I’ll give them this every night; it’s good for sleep, sir.”
The inquisitor, who looked worse and worse, nodded.
Francisco opened the door and gave the guards the drinks as he did every night. Gaining the bastard’s confidence was his mission and at last he had. The men did not think twice before swallowing the concoction in one gulp without knowing, that today, they were drinking their own death. All those glasses were filled with belladonna and devil's gingerbread dust. He left them previously prepared just as he had the Inquisitor's.
