Spain, 1492
She begged for a cross to hold.
They would not give her one.
Her body was bound fast with thick ropes to the central pole of the stake. Her arms and hands were free. She brought them together. She laid the thumb of her right hand across the forefinger of her left. She pressed her lips to the intersection of this cross and cried out in a loud voice,
‘In the name of the Blessed Lord Jesus who died for our sins!’
The flames began to rise around her.
Was it true that in some cases they dampened the firewood so that the condemned would roast more slowly? Her figure became obscured by the smoke, her form a writhing shadow within the fire.
She could not be seen, but she could be heard now, screaming; and the crowd called to her: ‘Recant! Recant!’
A young man shouted out, ‘For the love of God, let her die! Let her die!’
It sometimes happened that the executioner would go in and swiftly garrotte a heretic before the flames reached them. But she was shown no such mercy.
Her screams lessened, to be replaced with worse – a croaking agonized babbling.
The man bent his head, sobbing, his hands covering his ears.
The stink of burning flesh lingered in the square for hours afterwards.