XXVI
The great bell, the Borgstorm, rang out on the morrow to summon to the Vierschare the aldermen and the clerks of the court. There they sat on four banks of turf under the noble lime-tree which was called the Tree of Justice. And round about stood the common people. When he was examined the fishmonger would confess nothing. All he did was to repeat continually:
“I am poor and old, have mercy upon me.”
But the people howled at him, saying:
“You are an old wolf, destroyer of children; have no pity, sir judges.”
“Let him pay! Let him pay!” cried Toria.
But the fishmonger entreated again most piteously:
“I am poor. Leave me alone.”
Then, since he would not say anything of his own free will, he was condemned to be tortured until he should confess how he had committed the murders, whence he came, and where he had hidden the remains of the victims and their money.
So now he was brought to the torture chamber, and on his feet were put the iron shoes of torture, and the bailiff asked him how it was that Satan had inspired him with designs so black and crimes so abominable. Then at last he made answer: