Jon Smithie
Tribune
An early, if not the earliest story I wrote, recently recovered from an archaeological dig and transcribed by me into English from the original Akkadian cuneiform. Thanks to Tox for the reminder.
"You are Catherine Channing."
"Yes Milord"
"Speak up girl!"
"Yes Milord, an it please the Court."
"Well, it doesn't please the Court, young missy. Here. . ." The judge waved the document in his hand, "It says that you were caught with items you had not paid for in your purse. Is this statement true or not?"
"It is Milord, but. . ."
"A piece of jewelry and a small brass cup. True or not?"
"I don't deny these things were found in my . . ."
"True or not?"
"True, milord."
"How did you advise her to plead, Counselor?"
Catherine's attorney was a large, paunchy man, a man long experienced in the ways of the Court. He had been hired by her uncle. He was dressed in his finest long coat and wig.
"I advised her of the evidence, your grace, and it was my advice that she appeal to the mercy of the Court. She is of good family, my Lord, visiting our fair city from her home in the country. She is by all accounts a modest and sober young lady and this is her first offense, if indeed she has committed this offense. She is so insistent upon her innocence, my Lord, that despite my years of experience, I am inclined to believe her. Her Uncle, Mr. Herbert Channing, a successful and well thought of man of business and his daughter, Amalie, are here to vouch for young Catherine."
Uncle Herbert and Amalie both stood.
The judge waved his hand in front of his face. "Very well, Counselor, I shall weigh your opinion with appropriate gravity. As for you, sir, and you, young lady, I am confident you are of upright and moral character. You are all dismissed."
The attorney made a deep bow and stepped into the aisle, shaking his head at Herbert Channing's and Amalie's questioning looks. He gestured to them to precede him to the door.
"Now, are you ready to admit your guilt, young woman?"
"Sir, I swear to you, as God is my witness. . ."
"Do not speak of God, you lying slut! I shall have you gagged!"
Catherine recoiled as though slapped.
"But Sir, I swear to you, God knows the truth I speak. . ."
"Bailiff,' roared the Judge, "Gag this shameless hussy!"
Catherine was pulled from the dock by one bailiff, who twisted her wrist up behind her back and got her in a choke hold from behind, while another ran to a side room where the gags were kept. It was not unusual in this court that prisoners, even occasionally witnesses or observers were silenced for speaking out of turn.
While the one bailiff held her, the other forced the wooden pear- shaped gag into her mouth. There was a handle protruding from the end, which the bailiff turned, spreading open the wooden sections of the pear, filling Catherine's mouth and spreading her jaws wide apart.. They shackled her wrists behind her and placed her back in the dock.
"I find you guilty of thievery and of falsely swearing before the court," the judge said. "Your counselor pleaded your good family and that this is your first offence. I find no mitigation in this, quite the reverse. Being of good family presumably you have been taught right from wrong. Being of good family, it is an obligation upon you to be an example to the lower classes, who have not your upbringing or opportunities. How can I sentence a woman to be flogged for stealing bread for her children, and let you off for your good name?"
Catherine tried to cry out through her pear, but the sound was effectively muffled by the awful device.
There was a murmur of approval from the crowd, most of whom had no business before the court, but were idlers with nothing more interesting to do.
The judge had become quite heated, and wiped his brow. "As to the fact that you have not appeared before me or my brother judges before, perhaps you simply have not been caught. Be that as it may, it is my determination to make of you an example, to so sternly chastise you that you shall repent of this behavior, and that you shall be an example to those young ladies who may entertain the notion of putting their good names at risk and shaming their families for trinkets, and to anyone who might swear their lies before God and this court."
There were a few murmurs of "Hear, hear," from the crowd, quickly silenced by the fierce glance of the judge.
"Therefore, it is the sentence of this court that you shall be taken from this place to the public square, there to be stripped to the skin, shaved and pilloried. The two shopkeepers from whom you stole will be allowed each ten strokes upon your bare buttocks in the name of the people. At the convenience of the bailiff you shall be taken from the pillory and stretched by your wrists at the whipping frame, there to receive one hundred lashes in the name of the king."
Catherine fell to her knees. The judges words roared in her ears. She gasped and cried in agony. The crowd gasped. This was indeed a very heavy sentence for so light a crime. Those in the last rows of the court began eagerly filing out to get a good spot around the platform at the public square.
"I am not finished with you, hussy," the judge said. "Stand her up."
The bailiffs pulled Catherine to her feet.
"You shall further be branded a thief and false swearer upon your breast. You shall then be remanded to the cells until your parents appear before this court to petition for your release. Bailiff, remove the prisoner."
Catherine stumbled in shock, but was half lifted, half dragged from the courthouse. It was not a long walk to the public square, where, even now, the sentences doled out earlier were being administered. These were the punishments for minor infractions, whippings for whoring, thieving, swearing, brawling. Already some of the stocks and pillories were occupied. Punishments for major infractions, the mutilations and hangings, took place later in the day. For the most part men and women were allowed no modesty, Their clothes were either sold or given to the poor.
The bailiff escorted Catherine up the stairs to the raised platform in the middle of the square. Against the slaps of whips and the cries and moans of those being punished, the bailiff shouted,
"This young lightfinger is to be stripped bare, shaved, pilloried, branded and whipped. Quite a price to pay for the trinkets she stole. She tried to sweet talk my Lord the Judge, but he doesn't have the ear for it. . ." Many in the crowd laughed, for they all knew the reputation of the judge, and not a few in the crowd had experienced his wrath.. "And now she doesn't have the words for it!"
That was the joke, and crowd laughed again. The bailiff considered himself a man of rough humor, and loved playing to the crowd.
"Right then," the bailiff turned to Catherine, and unshackled her wrists. "Take your clothes off. Every stitch. This can go hard or easy. Once you're naked I'll take out the pear. Now do as I say, girl."
Catherine didn't know if she could control her hands or fingers. She dropped to her knees, mutely pleading with the bailiff and the crowd. The bailiff reached down to her and unlaced her bodice, slapping her hands away as she tried to resist. Her body felt like so much dead weight. The crowd cheered as the bailiff wrenched down on the shoulders and collar of her dress, baring her to the waist. Catherine struggled as the bailiff pushed her down and jerked her skirts as though he were taking sheets off a bed. The skirts came off and now Catherine, panicked and clad only in pantaloons clutched her arms over her breasts and tried to get up to run. The bailiff grabbed the waist band of the pantaloons and jerked, pulling Catherine down and stripping her of her last clothes. The sounds she made were the indistinct grunts of pain and terror and exertion. Desperately she tried to cover herself with her hands.
She was not the only one winded. The bailiff was sweating and breathing hard as well as he secured her wrists behind her and then stood her up. He threw her clothes to the crowd. People eagerly scrabbled for them. They were of good quality, and had not been torn badly. They would fetch a fair price.
The crowd loved the brief struggle, shouting ironic encouragement to the girl and offers of help to the bailiff.
"Well, you've made it hard on me, and now I shall return the favor."
The bailiff grabbed a handful of Catherine's long blond hair and pulled her to the large wooden chair for her shaving. With the help of another he bound Catherine's ankles to the back legs of the chair, and drew her hands over her head and secured her wrists behind her neck to the back of the chair. Catherine's legs were splayed wide open and men in the crowd hooted with glee. The bailiff took sheep shears from a large wooden chest and began shearing her hair. He was careful about it, trying to cut as close as he could, for the hair was saved and sold to wig makers. Catherine wept and struggled as he sheared her, but began grunting with humiliation as he cut her pubic hair. He trimmed it with the shears, then produced a finer blade from his belt and proceeded to shave the mound of her sex with it. When he stood away, and revealed the bald femininity of the helpless girl, the crowd roared and whistled. Stropping the blade at intervals he shaved her armpits and arms and legs. Her hair was light and fine, but he scraped her thoroughly anyway. When he was finished her skin was red and nicked in places. He untied her wrists and ankles from the chair and led her to the pillory.
THE THEFT
Catherine could barely walk for fear, so she was almost grateful for the bailiff's grip on her arm. He led her to the dock where she would stand alone before the court. She glanced back at her uncle and cousin and tried to smile. The Judge looked down on her from his bench. He picked up a paper, and glanced from her to the document and back again, as though reconciling the writing with the appearance."You are Catherine Channing."
"Yes Milord"
"Speak up girl!"
"Yes Milord, an it please the Court."
"Well, it doesn't please the Court, young missy. Here. . ." The judge waved the document in his hand, "It says that you were caught with items you had not paid for in your purse. Is this statement true or not?"
"It is Milord, but. . ."
"A piece of jewelry and a small brass cup. True or not?"
"I don't deny these things were found in my . . ."
"True or not?"
"True, milord."
"How did you advise her to plead, Counselor?"
Catherine's attorney was a large, paunchy man, a man long experienced in the ways of the Court. He had been hired by her uncle. He was dressed in his finest long coat and wig.
"I advised her of the evidence, your grace, and it was my advice that she appeal to the mercy of the Court. She is of good family, my Lord, visiting our fair city from her home in the country. She is by all accounts a modest and sober young lady and this is her first offense, if indeed she has committed this offense. She is so insistent upon her innocence, my Lord, that despite my years of experience, I am inclined to believe her. Her Uncle, Mr. Herbert Channing, a successful and well thought of man of business and his daughter, Amalie, are here to vouch for young Catherine."
Uncle Herbert and Amalie both stood.
The judge waved his hand in front of his face. "Very well, Counselor, I shall weigh your opinion with appropriate gravity. As for you, sir, and you, young lady, I am confident you are of upright and moral character. You are all dismissed."
The attorney made a deep bow and stepped into the aisle, shaking his head at Herbert Channing's and Amalie's questioning looks. He gestured to them to precede him to the door.
"Now, are you ready to admit your guilt, young woman?"
"Sir, I swear to you, as God is my witness. . ."
"Do not speak of God, you lying slut! I shall have you gagged!"
Catherine recoiled as though slapped.
"But Sir, I swear to you, God knows the truth I speak. . ."
"Bailiff,' roared the Judge, "Gag this shameless hussy!"
Catherine was pulled from the dock by one bailiff, who twisted her wrist up behind her back and got her in a choke hold from behind, while another ran to a side room where the gags were kept. It was not unusual in this court that prisoners, even occasionally witnesses or observers were silenced for speaking out of turn.
While the one bailiff held her, the other forced the wooden pear- shaped gag into her mouth. There was a handle protruding from the end, which the bailiff turned, spreading open the wooden sections of the pear, filling Catherine's mouth and spreading her jaws wide apart.. They shackled her wrists behind her and placed her back in the dock.
"I find you guilty of thievery and of falsely swearing before the court," the judge said. "Your counselor pleaded your good family and that this is your first offence. I find no mitigation in this, quite the reverse. Being of good family presumably you have been taught right from wrong. Being of good family, it is an obligation upon you to be an example to the lower classes, who have not your upbringing or opportunities. How can I sentence a woman to be flogged for stealing bread for her children, and let you off for your good name?"
Catherine tried to cry out through her pear, but the sound was effectively muffled by the awful device.
There was a murmur of approval from the crowd, most of whom had no business before the court, but were idlers with nothing more interesting to do.
The judge had become quite heated, and wiped his brow. "As to the fact that you have not appeared before me or my brother judges before, perhaps you simply have not been caught. Be that as it may, it is my determination to make of you an example, to so sternly chastise you that you shall repent of this behavior, and that you shall be an example to those young ladies who may entertain the notion of putting their good names at risk and shaming their families for trinkets, and to anyone who might swear their lies before God and this court."
There were a few murmurs of "Hear, hear," from the crowd, quickly silenced by the fierce glance of the judge.
"Therefore, it is the sentence of this court that you shall be taken from this place to the public square, there to be stripped to the skin, shaved and pilloried. The two shopkeepers from whom you stole will be allowed each ten strokes upon your bare buttocks in the name of the people. At the convenience of the bailiff you shall be taken from the pillory and stretched by your wrists at the whipping frame, there to receive one hundred lashes in the name of the king."
Catherine fell to her knees. The judges words roared in her ears. She gasped and cried in agony. The crowd gasped. This was indeed a very heavy sentence for so light a crime. Those in the last rows of the court began eagerly filing out to get a good spot around the platform at the public square.
"I am not finished with you, hussy," the judge said. "Stand her up."
The bailiffs pulled Catherine to her feet.
"You shall further be branded a thief and false swearer upon your breast. You shall then be remanded to the cells until your parents appear before this court to petition for your release. Bailiff, remove the prisoner."
Catherine stumbled in shock, but was half lifted, half dragged from the courthouse. It was not a long walk to the public square, where, even now, the sentences doled out earlier were being administered. These were the punishments for minor infractions, whippings for whoring, thieving, swearing, brawling. Already some of the stocks and pillories were occupied. Punishments for major infractions, the mutilations and hangings, took place later in the day. For the most part men and women were allowed no modesty, Their clothes were either sold or given to the poor.
The bailiff escorted Catherine up the stairs to the raised platform in the middle of the square. Against the slaps of whips and the cries and moans of those being punished, the bailiff shouted,
"This young lightfinger is to be stripped bare, shaved, pilloried, branded and whipped. Quite a price to pay for the trinkets she stole. She tried to sweet talk my Lord the Judge, but he doesn't have the ear for it. . ." Many in the crowd laughed, for they all knew the reputation of the judge, and not a few in the crowd had experienced his wrath.. "And now she doesn't have the words for it!"
That was the joke, and crowd laughed again. The bailiff considered himself a man of rough humor, and loved playing to the crowd.
"Right then," the bailiff turned to Catherine, and unshackled her wrists. "Take your clothes off. Every stitch. This can go hard or easy. Once you're naked I'll take out the pear. Now do as I say, girl."
Catherine didn't know if she could control her hands or fingers. She dropped to her knees, mutely pleading with the bailiff and the crowd. The bailiff reached down to her and unlaced her bodice, slapping her hands away as she tried to resist. Her body felt like so much dead weight. The crowd cheered as the bailiff wrenched down on the shoulders and collar of her dress, baring her to the waist. Catherine struggled as the bailiff pushed her down and jerked her skirts as though he were taking sheets off a bed. The skirts came off and now Catherine, panicked and clad only in pantaloons clutched her arms over her breasts and tried to get up to run. The bailiff grabbed the waist band of the pantaloons and jerked, pulling Catherine down and stripping her of her last clothes. The sounds she made were the indistinct grunts of pain and terror and exertion. Desperately she tried to cover herself with her hands.
She was not the only one winded. The bailiff was sweating and breathing hard as well as he secured her wrists behind her and then stood her up. He threw her clothes to the crowd. People eagerly scrabbled for them. They were of good quality, and had not been torn badly. They would fetch a fair price.
The crowd loved the brief struggle, shouting ironic encouragement to the girl and offers of help to the bailiff.
"Well, you've made it hard on me, and now I shall return the favor."
The bailiff grabbed a handful of Catherine's long blond hair and pulled her to the large wooden chair for her shaving. With the help of another he bound Catherine's ankles to the back legs of the chair, and drew her hands over her head and secured her wrists behind her neck to the back of the chair. Catherine's legs were splayed wide open and men in the crowd hooted with glee. The bailiff took sheep shears from a large wooden chest and began shearing her hair. He was careful about it, trying to cut as close as he could, for the hair was saved and sold to wig makers. Catherine wept and struggled as he sheared her, but began grunting with humiliation as he cut her pubic hair. He trimmed it with the shears, then produced a finer blade from his belt and proceeded to shave the mound of her sex with it. When he stood away, and revealed the bald femininity of the helpless girl, the crowd roared and whistled. Stropping the blade at intervals he shaved her armpits and arms and legs. Her hair was light and fine, but he scraped her thoroughly anyway. When he was finished her skin was red and nicked in places. He untied her wrists and ankles from the chair and led her to the pillory.