Chapter 2: The Dishonored Outcast

In the Grand Duchy of Upper Danubia, all accused criminals had the right to a trial. Serious offenders, people facing either the collar or the death penalty, automatically were assigned a Spokesman. Spokesmen were court employees whose duties included trying to find mitigating circumstances and exculpatory evidence for trial, and then to manage a convicted criminal’s life following the trial. Officially, the Spokesman assumed custody of the criminal after conviction, and worked as their client’s legal protector and mentor.

Petty criminals such as Danka always had a hearing to determine guilt and the circumstances of the crime, but did not have the right to a Spokesman. Their punishment only lasted a single day, thus in theory there wasn’t much at stake, even if a person was wrongly convicted. A day of public humiliation and then release back into the custody of the family - no big deal. The reality was much more complicated, because a person’s life, especially a woman’s life, often was ruined as the result of punishment for a “petty” crime. Danka knew that, with her unsympathetic family, she’d face a hostile reception after her release. She knew that her life would never be the same.

Her trial lasted five minutes. The guard dragged her before a bored local magistrate and explained her crime. Farmer Orsktackt, the trial’s main witness, answered a single question; were the charges against the peasant Danka Siluckt true. He sullenly responded that they were. He was under oath, so he couldn’t say anything else. As much as he wanted to complain about Danka’s treatment and argue that maybe she had been punished enough and should be let go, he never got the chance. He was dismissed and that was the end of his participation in the trial. The sentence was what everyone expected: the peasant Danka Siluckt would spend the night in a holding cell and the next day would spend about eight hours on the pillory. At the end of the day she’d be released into the custody of her family.

A court scribe copied the sentence and Danka’s name onto several sheets of cheap parchment. One copy would be attached to the courthouse door, one attached to the pillory in the city’s plaza, and one delivered to the Siluckt household.

Guard Annikki led Danka to the holding cell. She untied the prisoner’s hands, but then chained her wrists to the wall. She smiled coldly.

“You may think you were dishonored today, but you weren’t. You haven’t experienced true dishonor. Tomorrow you will. I will humiliate you in a way you never imagined. I will destroy your dignity, and destroy it so thoroughly you’ll never recover. So, sleep well, Danka Siluckt. Tomorrow will be the most horrid day of your life.”

Farmer Orsktackt went home feeling very disgusted with himself. He couldn’t believe something as simple as dealing with the theft of some apples could turn into such a mess for both his conscience and his reputation. He now felt responsible for the peasant Danka Siluckt, since it was his complaint that got her into so much trouble. He now wished with every bit of his soul that he had never talked to his friend the councilman; that he had just dealt with Danka himself.

Protocol limited Farmer Orsktackt’s options for getting the peasant Danka Siluckt out of the mess he got her into. Since he filed the charge, he could not appeal for clemency, nor in any way be perceived as trying to protect her. But he did have to help Danka if he possibly could. His perception of morality and justice had been violated by his own actions. Somehow he needed to set things straight. He went to bed with his wife, but as soon as she was asleep, he got up, went outside, and spent the night praying to the Lord-Creator for some guidance about how he should handle the following day. The only response he received was a very strong feeling that he needed to be present for the peasant Danka Siluckt’s punishment and bear witness to what was about to happen to her. He received no other insight. So, the next day he rode his horse to the city gate and stabled him at the inn where Danka had sold his apples. He bought a bottle of apple cider and walked into the city. He took a look at the pillory and noted the peasant Danka Siluckt’s punishment declaration. The chains swayed in the wind and two ladders leaned against the frame, in anticipation of the day’s sentence.

Lord-Creator ... what have I done?

Danka spent a totally sleepless night. She was terrified of what would happen to her the next day, but she also was extremely uncomfortable. The welts and bruises covering her backside throbbed and made it impossible to sit. However, she couldn’t stand up because the chains restraining her hands were too short. If she lay down, she couldn’t bring her arms down to her sides. She was hungry, and as the night wore on, increasingly thirsty. When the next morning finally came, she was totally exhausted. She waited in terror as it got lighter and lighter outside.

Finally the cell door opened and Guard Annikki, accompanied by two male assistants came into the room. One of the men unlocked her chains. He pulled her to her feet and held her roughly while the other tied her hands behind her back. Guard Annikki said nothing, but her cruel smirk made it obvious that she had not forgotten her threat from last night.

“ ... the most horrid day of your life.”

Guard Annikki took charge of the prisoner, firmly grabbing her arm and digging her fingers into Danka’s skin. Danka did not resist. Her terror had subsided into a numb depression and she was physically exhausted from the ordeal of the last 24 hours. The group exited the courthouse and emerged into Rika Heckt-nemat’s main plaza. Already a crowd of curious residents had gathered near the pillory, anticipating the day’s entertainment.

The guard forced Danka to get on her knees while she gave a speech that she had prepared specifically to humiliate her prisoner as much as possible. She mentioned Danka Siluckt’s full name over and over. She talked about Danka’s ridiculous desire to have a dress and to pretend she was something other than what she was: a dishonored menial worker.

One of the male guards pointed a crossbow to her stomach, letting her know that if she resisted, he’d shoot her and she would die an agonizing death. Danka obediently climbed up the ladder when the moment came. The guards secured her wrists and stretched her arms over her shoulders. Tears flowed down the dishonored girl’s cheeks as she felt the ankle irons wrap around her legs and heard the locks click shut. She was completely exposed, with her arms spread over her head and her feet resting on small platforms a half a fathom apart. She felt the chilly morning air blowing between her spread thighs against her exposed vulva. She could feel hundreds of eyes studying her body. Against her will she listened to various comments about her appearance and had to endure a multitude of sexual jokes.

Danka said nothing as the sun rose higher and the air became much warmer. Her arms and legs started cramping from being forced to hold an uncomfortable pose for hours on end, without being able to move. She could move and flex her arms a little, but she couldn’t move her feet. Increasingly her body was protesting against what she was enduring. Her back and shoulders started hurting along with her legs and arms. She thrust her head back and forth and heard the laughter of some of her spectators. She didn’t care. By mid-day the cramping was so unbearable throughout her entire body that she no longer cared about the crowd watching her.

The cathedral bell announced noon and Guard Annikki called up to her in a tone of feigned sympathy.

“Do you need a break, Danka Siluckt? Would you like something to eat? To drink? You are due a short break, you know...”

“Please Guard Annikki...”

“Yes, poor girl. We will accommodate you.”

To Danka’s surprise, the male guards actually climbed the ladders and unlocked the pillory’s cuffs. They actually were going to let her down for a while. The men rubbed her shoulders for a few seconds to get the circulation going in her arms. The prisoner was hugely relieved. She knew that the afternoon would be much worse, but for the moment she was on the ground and had the use of her arms and legs. She was horribly thirsty and drank a large cup of cold well-water.

Guard Annikki waited, ready to play a horrible trick on the culprit. In her hand she held a freshly-baked bread roll. It looked like an innocuous snack, but the bread was full of strong spices that would burn Danka’s mouth as soon as she bit into it. The bread was important for the guard’s plan to totally humiliate the peasant Danka Siluckt and make it impossible for her to ever have a normal life in Rika Heckt-nemat, even as a dishonored day-laborer.