Deep cells, thick walls…

My weekend in Stuttgart included a trip to the regional museum, a rather dull little establishment notable less for the exhibits than for the imposing old castle in which it’s located – formerly home to the Counts of Württemberg.  The tour route takes one into the cellars, two floors below street level; forgetting the displays of local glassware, my mind began to wander to other possible uses for such dungeons…

—

There’d been an argument, you see. The girl had refused to accept the guard’s instructions; he’d tried to handcuff her to take her back to her cell; she’d lashed out and hit him in the face.

The hearing before the Governor had been short, to the point. He’d brushed aside her protests: “The conduct of my officer is not the issue at stake here. Your conduct is. Refusal to obey a legitimate order: guilty; four strokes. Striking an officer: guilty; twelve strokes.” He recorded the details of her sentence in a ledger, then looked up: “Take her to the punishment cell; I shall be with you shortly.”

By the time he descended the stone stairs to the basement, his deputies had her tied, naked, in place over the whipping frame. He selected a cane from the rack, flexed it, and then administered justice. She took the first three strokes in silence; howled from the fourth; was broken and begging for mercy by the time the eighth stripe cut across her. And that was only half-way through.

Minutes later, the flogging complete, the Governor beckoned his deputies to accompany him from the cell – and handed the cane to the officer involved in the original incident. “You can untie her when you’re ready: we’re finished with the formal punishment. In the meantime, I’m sure you have your own views to share about her conduct. Deep cells, thick walls… We shall leave you to it…”