Brazen Bull
A medieval servant is thrown in a unusual torture device.
Morwin's paws clambered across the cold stones of one of the castle's many hallways. The mouse had been called away from her cleaning duties to perform a special task for Lord Greenemane himself. Her mind danced with the possibilities of what he could want from her. Greenmane was of course noble, but she knew the lion could bring great rewards or great cruelty. She remembered the poor serving girl Eveline, who made a mistake at a royal fete and found herself devoured whole by Lord Greenmane. She shuddered.
She arrived at the doors to one of the Lord's private chambers. The guards opened them, and Morwin entered cautiously.
The room was surprisingly bare, just a storage room, really. In the center of the room sat a life-size statue of a bull, crafted from bronze. And next to it stood the noble lion himself. Morwin kneeled before Greenemane, who wore a majestic purple robe.
"My Lord, I'm here to perform your special task."
"Oh, you must be the cleaning girl they sent. Hmm. Do you know what this is?"
"It's a statue of a bull, my lord."
"Hah. Not quite," he smiled, "have you ever been to one of my galas, in the Great Hall?"
"I have served at them, sir."
"Do you remember hearing a sound akin to a bellowing bull?"
"Yes, sir," she did recall a noise like an angry bull in the background of the last gala she worked at.
"When heated, this lovely device produces those noises," he gestured towards the bull.
"Oh, that's wonderful. And you want me to clean it, sir?"
"Oh, no," he laughed, "I must explain. I always like to have those wondrous bellows at my galas. Normally, I have a prisoner thrown in there. But the dungeons are empty."
"I...don't understand, I'm afraid."
"See, it does not just make those noises when heated. It requires someone to be inside when my men light a fire beneath it. The person in there is roasted alive, but I guess that's the cost of a nice party. And since I don't have any prisoners on hand, I asked them send one of the cleaning girls to serve the role of the bellowing bull for tonight's gala dinner."
"You're...you're going to kill me, roast me alive, to...to make some noise at a party?"
"Remember, girl, that you are a peasant and I am your Lord. You are to do as I command."
"...yes, my Lord," she said meekly.
The guards wheeled the bull towards the grand hall. Morwin followed, imagining the agonizing death she was about to suffer. At least she would die in the service of her Lord. She recalled how frequent this was on his part. Greenemane frequently requested a peasant to hunt when bored, and she knew Eveline was hardly the only servant to meet their end in his stomach. While she recognized his rights as a noble and as a predator, she resolved to not make any noise if she could help it - to offer up some minor resistance as she went.
The bull in place, the guards opened a trap door on the top of the statue. She gingerly stepped into the hollow copper chamber. She awkwardly positioned herself on her knees. The guards slammed the trapdoor above her, stranding her in darkness.
Morwin studied tubes at the front of the chamber. She figured that this was what turned desperate cries into bellows. She waited in the darkness, unmoving, listening intently to every creak, every footstep, wondering if that was the sound of the guards on their way to stoke the fire underneath her copper tomb.
She heard one of the guards come closer. As she listened to him shuffle around in his bag, she realized that this was it. Anxiously, she waited for the beginning of the end. She soon heard the unmistakable sound of a fire being lit underneath her.
The heat rose gradually. Sweat began to run down her face, first in a trickle and then in torrents. The darkness was disrupted by the spot directly underneath the fire turning red-hot. Morwin, who still nursed ideas of finding a way out, searched around for the edges of the trap door. Her search was short lived. The rapidly-heating bull scalded her fingers. Crying out in pain, she fell backwards...only to be burnt by the floor of the bull as well.
She shifted around the bull awkwardly, trying to find any safe spots, anywhere cool, but everywhere she went she felt burning. The smell of smoke alerted her to the fire raging across her fur. Smoke rose as the fire spread across her, burning red-hot and leaving stinging burns across her flesh.
The heady black smoke invaded her throat. She needed air. She felt a overpowering urge to breathe. She knew that her two options were burning to death or suffocation, and she had no idea which was worse. But her body wouldn't let her give up. Morwin reached for the tubes on the wall, gripping them hard and latching onto them for air. All that came out was a scream of pain.
Smoke billowed from the bull's nostrils as the bellowing reached a fever pitch.
"What is this piece?" Lady Emeraldtooth asked Lord Greenemane.
"Oh, it's a lovely piece of sculpture, isn't it? It makes those noises when it, uh, heats up."
He listened as the bull's bellows grew louder and louder, his excitement growing. He knew what would happen next. As other party guests, all equally oblivious to what was going on inside the bull, crowded to listen to its sound, he waited for the moment the sounds stopped. The bellows slowed and became more distant, as he imagined the cleaning girl's last moments. When the bull let out a final, low cry, as the others clapped obliviously, his body peaked. He joined the unthinking applause.