The Smithy's Revenge

During the Inquisition, there was no one more feared in the rural areas of Spain as Sanchez. Sanchez was brutal in his tactics to cleanse the region of ‘evil and sorcery’, as put forth by his benefactors in the Church.

No man, woman, or child was safe from his touch. In one small village, he declared that everyone was infected with evil. His men forced the people into their small homes, barred the doors & windows, and burned the entire village to the ground. The screams of those being burned alive were horrendous and the stench of burnt flesh covered the area for miles.

Sanchez was also becoming wealthy in the process; he claimed all goods seized in his ‘trials’. Granted, he sent some tribute back to his superiors, but the bulk was sent back to his villa for his own greed. If someone dared to complain, they would find themselves arrested, tried, and executed. If Sanchez was in a foul mood, torture would take place for days until the sweet release of the executioner’s blade.

It was in the winter when Sanchez brought his campaign of terror to the small village of Agozia. It was in Agozia that Sanchez had a special interest, for there was rumored to be a blacksmith that was skilled at inventing wondrous items. Sanchez wanted his skill and his prizes. The plan would go as it had before-the blacksmith would be arrested, tortured, and then executed. Sanchez would then acquire the property of the blacksmith and that would be that.

The people watched in apprehension as his entourage strode into town. Sanchez dismounted and swaggered to the town square. Surrounded by his aides, he looked over the assembly and bellowed, “People of Agozia, I have come to rid your land of evil and sorcery!!! Those who help will be blessed by the Church; those who oppose will pray for forgiveness and quick death! The investigations will begin at dawn.” Dropping down to the ground, he strode to the modest inn to set up for his work.

As he walked into the inn, Sanchez was surprised to find the blacksmith waiting. The smithy, whose name was Leonardo, smiled slightly as Sanchez sat down at the table. “I understand you have come for me, Senor Sanchez. I was hoping that we could avoid unpleasantries.”

Sanchez sneered, “So, the mouse has come to the cat to beg for mercy. How amusing. And what could you offer that would change the mind of the Church?”

Leonardo smile faded, “Senor, we know that you don’t operate within any confines.” He waved off Sanchez’s protest. “Senor, I offer you this. Send your men away, do nothing to this town, and I will let you have whatever you wish from my meager shop.”

Sanchez thought quickly, for he was no fool. He nodded in agreement, all the while thinking he would take what he wanted and still kill the smithy and have his pleasure with the village. He ordered his men to mount up and leave the village until he sent for them

As they entered Leonardo’s house, Sanchez was amazed by all of the wondrous items hanging from the ceiling, stacked on the floor, and bulging out of the shelves lining the walls. He turned to look at Leonardo with awe. Leonardo shrugged, “I do what I can to help people with their daily struggles. This device, for instance, will thresh wheat in half a day. My purpose is to help, not harm.” Sanchez snorted, “Smithy, you waste your time on these cattle. People are to be used by those that are stronger, nothing more.” As he looked around the room, he spied a door half hidden by the shelves. Leonardo held out his hands in a gesture of submission, “It is a storage room, Senor, nothing more.
”
Sanchez’s eyes narrowed. He stomped over and pushed the door open. A small flight of stairs led to a small cellar. Motioning for the smithy to bring a torch, Sanchez followed as Leonardo walked down into the room. A large crate filled the room. It was covered in gears, pulleys, and wheels. There was a small opening on one side, with a seat for one person. A simple lever was beside the seat; nothing more. Sanchez turned with questioning eyes. Leonardo’s shoulders slumped, “It is my greatest invention. I have created a time machine or so I hope.”

Sanchez’s mind raced. Could it be possible that the smithy had indeed created a machine that could travel through time? He knew what he must do; kill the smithy and take this creation as his own. The idea of traveling through time blinded Sanchez to any other thought. “I must try this”, he whispered.

“Senor”, Leonardo said softly, “I implore not to do this. I don’t even know if it will work.”

Pushing the smithy aside, Sanchez took his place in the seat. He pulled the lever and closed his eyes, waiting to see what period of time he would witness first.

His eyes snapped open as iron manacles snapped around his ankles and wrists. He started to protest, but a wooden bit was forced into his mouth. In the dim light of the machinery, he could make out instruments designed to pierce, cut, and tear through flesh. As the first blades cut through his clothes and then flayed his skin, another set of spikes were slowly pushing into his eyes and ears. His limbs were bent until they started to snap.

As the great Sanchez muffled screams filled the cellar, Leonardo leaned forward, “Forgive me, Senor, but I was not truthful in describing my invention. It is not a time machine, but a machine that, collectively, submits the occupant to every torture known to man. While you may think this is agony, it pales in comparison to the horror you have served upon man. For it was my village you burned, my family and friends you killed.”

“Requiescat in pace, Senor Sanchez.”