20 Insane Medieval Torture Methods (So Cruel They Banned them)

PART 2:

  Your legs feel it before your skin does. Tar gets added. Pitch. The air turns thick. Your lungs panic before your body does. You choke. Coughing pulls smoke deeper. People watch. Some pray. Some eat. Kids sit on shoulders for a better view. Your hair catches. Skin blisters, then splits. Sometimes they strangle you first, sometimes they don’t.

 In England, Germany, France, plenty of places, they let you burn awake over 30 minutes. Sometimes death is slower when it needs witnesses. Burning at the stake wasn’t just killing you. It was teaching everyone else. Next is number 16. Pressing peenforte at jaw in medieval England and France. Peen fought at your crushed not only bodies but wills used mainly on accused criminals who refuse to plead. Now you’re flat on your back.

England, France, medieval courts. They call this peen forte at dure. You refuse to plead. That’s your mistake. No plea meant no conviction and property stayed with the family. You lay naked on the ground. They lay a board on your chest. Then they start stacking weight. Stone first, then iron.

 Your ribs bend, then snap. Breathing turns shallow. Each breath is a fight you’re losing. They don’t rush. They add weight slowly. Hours, days, was his only control left. Let me explain why. If you don’t plead, they can’t convict you. Your family keeps your property, so they crush you until you talk or until your chest gives up.

 In 1586, Margaret Clero, a Catholic martyr, took £700 before she died for sheltering priests. In colonial Salem, 1692, Giles Cory was pressed for 2 days, refusing to plead to witchcraft.  Giles Cory lasted 2 days. His last words were, “More weight. Irony again. Silence.” Now at number 15, crocodile shears.

 If you were guilty of treason in late medieval Europe, execution wasn’t just  about death. It was about making a public example. This was practiced in France 16th century for treason cases. Public executions, big crowds. The crocodile shears were forged iron tongs with four or more serrated jaws shaped like a crocodile’s mouth. They heat the iron over 600° C.

 The pincers glow  red. You smell them before they touch you. They clamp down on fingers first, then toes, then places you don’t want to think about. The metal bites, flesh, tea, own splinters. You hear a hiss, that’s your skin. Frantois Robvelac felt this before being torn apart for killing a  king.

 They wanted him broken before they ended him. Pain escalates when dignity needs destroying.  The crowd hears everything. The executioner takes his time. This isn’t about information. It’s about spectacle. Next is number 14. Strapto. If medieval torture had a  sound, the strap would be the sickening crack of tearing ligaments.

 First recorded in Spain, late 1400s. Inquisition  rooms. Your hands are tied behind your back. A rope runs from your wrists up to a beam. They lift you, then drop you. Your shoulders rip out of place on the first floor. Clean, violent. That’s sound. That’s ligaments tearing. Sometimes they stop there. Sometimes they add weights to your feet.

 They hoist you again. Drop. Jerk. Lift. You pass out.  They wake you up and do it again. In Florence, they did this in public. People watched bodies jerk like broken puppets. Survive this and your arms may never work again. Paralysis was common. Death, too. And here’s the part nobody warns you about. You’re still alive and we’re not done.

Next time they take your voice. Don’t get hopeful. Still breathing just means they found another use for you. Next is number 13. The Branks, Scold’s Bridal. If you thought medieval punishment was all blood and broken bones, think again. The branks or scolds bridal proved that psychological torture could be just as devastating.

 Emerging in Scotland, 16th century market day. It targeted women accused of gossip, slander, or nagging their husbands. The device was an iron cage fitted over the head with a long flat plate. The bit forced into the mouth. This plate sometimes had spikes or sharp edges designed to tear the tongue and cheeks if the victim tried to speak.

 They fit the iron cage over your head. They call it the branks. It locks behind your skull with a dull click. Inside, a flat iron plate slides into your mouth, presses down on  your tongue. Some have spikes. Yours does. Pain doesn’t always need blood. Shame  works too. You try to speak. The iron bites, tongue tears, teeth chip.

They chain you to a post in the square. Hours pass. Wind, rain, cold. People gather, they laugh, they throw things, rotten food, stones. Let me explain why this mattered. This wasn’t about injury. It was about erasing you. You were accused of talking too much. Now you can’t talk at all. When they finally remove it, your mouth doesn’t work right anymore.

 Some women never spoke clearly again. Survival means silence. Now at number 12, the Grot. The Grot was execution by slow strangulation but with a brutal twist. Originating in Spain, medieval prison yard,  it consisted of a sturdy chair and an iron collar mounted on a post. You sit down, a chair bolted to the ground. They wrap an iron collar around your neck.

 Cold, tight. Behind  you, a screw waits. pointed patient. The screw or lever at the back would be turned slowly, pressing a metal bolt  into the spine or throat. In early versions, the goal was pure esphyxiation. The condemned would convulse for several minutes before death. This is the gar.

 Early versions choke you. Slow minutes of panic. Later versions do  something else. The screw pushes in hard. Your spine feels it before your brain does. One sharp pressure and everything goes white. Sometimes they don’t turn it all the way. They want you conscious longer. It was used for crimes ranging from murder to treason.

 Public executions draw crowds. Quiet ones. No screaming like hangings. Just watching someone sit still while death arrives from behind. Calm executions scare people more. You stare forward. You know the next turn ends you. Next at number 11, the Pillery and Stalks. The Pillery and Stocks weren’t just public shaming devices. They were slow motion torture machines that could leave victims maimed or dead.

They lock your head and hands into wood. Used across England, France, colonial towns, too. Pillery stocks. They say it’s not torture.  They’re lying. These wooden frames lock the head, hands, or feet in place. You’re stuck in the open. Hours, days. The crowd decides what happens next.

 Rotten fruit turns to  stones. Stones turn to bricks. Someone throws boiling liquid. Someone else kicks your legs. Dogs circle. One bites. In London, a man died when a rock crushed his skull. Officials called it unfortunate. In winter, fingers freeze.  In summer, skin blisters. You can’t eat. You can’t defend yourself.

Irony again. Your sentence isn’t the device, it’s the people. Next at number  10, the coffin torture. The coffin torture was exactly what it sounded like. An iron cage shaped to fit a human body. Sometimes barely larger than the victim themselves. Used in Germany, France, 14th century. They strip you naked.

 They lock you  inside. There’s barely room to move. Then they hang it. Public square, city gate, roadside, somewhere everyone can see. If they want you dead, they wait. Leave you to dehydrate or freeze. No food, no water. If they want it worse, they coat you in honey to attract insects to your body. Flies arrive first. Wasps, ants, rats later.

 Days pass. Skin breaks down. So does your mind. When you die, they leave you there. Weeks sometimes. Chronicers from the 14th and 15th centuries describe corpses swinging  in these cages for weeks, serving as both punishment and warning. Your body becomes a warning sign in the minds of anyone considering the same crime.

 The coffin wasn’t about a quick  death. It was about turning the human body into a slow, grotesque public billboard of suffering.  Ribs showing, flesh rotting. The dead can still be useful.  You’re not a person anymore. You’re a message. And now comes the part that takes your legs.

 Next time they make sure you never run again. If this is where you stop listening, the pattern vanishes. Subscribe to candleit history because this is how systems hide in plain sight. All right. They were right to worry about your legs because now they aim lower. Let’s move on to number nine. Knee spplitter. The knee spplitter wasn’t a subtle device.

 Picture two opposing metal plates, each lined with three to 20 spikes clamped around the knee and screwed tighter  until the joint shattered. This originated from Spain, Italy, German states, 16th century. They bring out the clamp. They call it the knee spplitter. Two iron plates, spikes inside. They fit it around your knee like a brace.

 Then they turn the screw. The first turn punches holes through skin. The second finds bone. Your kneecap cracks, not snaps. Cracks slow wet. Mobility is mercy. They remove it first. They keep turning. Cartilage grinds into paste. You scream. They haven’t even started questioning yet. Sometimes they do both knees. Sometimes elbows, sometimes shins.

 A French record says after  three turns, the joint looked like a sack of stones. It wasn’t meant to kill outright. It was designed to [ __ ] As the spikes drove in, they fractured the patella, tore tendons, and ground cartilage into pulp. Walking  is over forever. You are left permanently lame.

 Even if you live, you crawl now rather than walking. That’s the point. Next is number eight. Taring and burning. If burning at the stake was hellfire, taring and burning was hellfire with glue. This punishment began at sea. Pirates, mutineers, and desertters  faced it as a warning to others. They strip you naked again. At sea first, later on land.

 Pirates, mutineers, desertters. They heat the tar, boiling heated to over 200° centigrade. Thick, black.  You smell it before you feel it. They poured or brushed directly onto skin. Not just pour brush. It sticks, seals heat in. Your skin bubbles under it, then splits. The tar didn’t just burn. It bonded to flesh, sealing in heat and causing deep blackened blisters. Then they light you.

Tar burns longer  than wood. And it doesn’t fall off. Glue makes fire personal. The crew watches. They have to. Sometimes your body is left burning as a marker. A lesson nailed to  the deck. This wasn’t fast. It was meant to linger. Now at number seven, thumb screws. Forget grand executions.

  Thumbs screws were torture condensed into the size of a book clasp. Originating in the 16th century Europe, they were used by inquisitors, jailers, and even pirates during interrogations. They bring something small. Thumb screws. Looks harmless like a tool. They fit it over your thumb or finger or toe. Then they twist. Bone crushes inward.

Nails burst up through skin. You feel pressure before pain. Then pain takes over everything.  In which trials hands were destroyed until you couldn’t sign your name. A shaking X would do. Confessions don’t need words. They need hands. They stop just before you pass out. Then start again.

 Hours if they want. precision torture. Some prisoners begged for hanging  instead. That was denied. Next is number six, the chair of nails. The earliest known versions date back to medieval Germany, 15th century. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary wooden chair until you saw the hundreds of iron spikes covering every surface, seat, back, armrests, even footrest. All iron, all sharp.

 They strip you. You sit. They strap  you down. Your own weight does the work. Spikes sink into thighs, back, arms, feet. The spikes were often heated red hot before the you sat, turning the torture into a combination of impalement and burning. Every  twitch your body makes drives them deeper.

 You learn not to move. Bleeding is slow. That’s intentional. Stillness becomes  survival. Some last minutes, some last hours. Records say confessions came fast. Others fainted over and  over until blood loss finished it. This wasn’t furniture. It was patients  with teeth. Now at number five, iron gag.

 The iron gag was a punishment designed to make breathing itself unbearable. Used across 16th to 18th century. They force your mouth open. A metal plate is forced deep into your mouth, pressing the tongue down while a sharpened edge  dug into the roof of the mouth or throat. They strap your head tight. You can’t pull away. Breathing turns wrong.

 Air fights swollen flesh. Blood fills your mouth. You drool it out. Can’t swallow. In Saxony, thieves were marched through town  like this. People jered. Children followed. Silence is easier to control than screams. Some suffocated slowly, tongues swelling until air stopped. Others survived, but never spoke right again.

 And now there are only four left. You’ve lost your legs, your hands, your voice. Next, they take time itself, and they don’t hurry. All right, there’s nothing left to take from you now. So, they take time. Next is number four, the drunkard’s cloak. In 17th century England, public drunkenness wasn’t just fined.

 It was shamed into memory. This was practiced in England. 17th century town street. They shove you inside the barrel. They call it the drunkard’s cloak. It smells like old beer. Rot, sweat, wood swollen from years of use. Your head sticks out the top. Arms through holes cut too  low to help you balance. They latch it shut.

 Humiliation works best when it looks funny. They march you through town. Slow, deliberate. Children throw mud. Adults throw stones. The barrel rubs your skin roar as you walk. Every step scrapes. If it’s winter, the wood freezes against you. If it’s summer, the stench makes you wretch inside the barrel. Sometimes the walk is just the beginning.

 They leave you standing in it for hours, days. You can’t sit. You can’t lie down. Sleep comes standing. Collapse  comes later. People laugh because it’s easier than thinking. That’s why this one works. Now, at number three, the Spanish tickler. This wasn’t a farm tool. It was a murder weapon disguised as one. The Spanish tickler, also called the cat’s claw, looked like an iron rake with three to four curved prongs.

 This originated in Spain 16th century inquisition room and was  used on accused heretics, thieves, and rebels. They chain you to a wall or whipping posts. They bring the claws. Three or four curved iron prongs. Looks like  a farm tool. It’s not. They drag it across your back. Shredding muscle and tendons.

 Skin opens immediately. Muscle follows.  They don’t rush. They rake. Reset. break again. Sometimes the claws are heated first, searing flesh as they tore it away. The burn seals nothing. It just adds pain. They don’t stay on your back. They move to your chest, your face, your arms.

 A body can be dismantled without  killing it. Blood pools on the floor. Infection weights. Few survive this. Those who do aren’t whole anymore. The point  wasn’t death. It was unmaking you in front of witnesses. At number two, we have breaking wheel. Also called the Catherine Wheel. This medieval execution  method wasn’t just about killing.

 It was about destroying the human body in front of a crowd. Used across Europe, 13th to 18th century. They tie you to the wheel. Large crowd. This one’s an event. Your limbs are stretched out along the spokes. Ropes tight. No movement. The executioner lifts a heavy iron bar. He starts smashing your right leg. First strike shatters bone.

 Not breaks, shatters, then the next leg, then arms. As many as 8 to 10 bone breaks before a fatal blow. Each blow is counted. Pain lasts longer when it’s organized. Sometimes they kill  you after. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they weave your broken body through the wheel and raise it high on a pole. You hang there alive. Bones crushed.

 Organs failing. People place bets. How long you’ll last? Hours? Days? This wasn’t justice. It was theater with rules. And finally, number one, scaffism. If hell had a waiting room, it would be scaffism. Originating from ancient Persia. But the story traveled. They lay you between the boards. two hollowed planks.

 Your head, hands, feet stick out. They force-feed you milk and honey again and again. Your body can’t handle it. Diarrhea starts violent, constant. They smear honey on your skin. Insects arrive fast. Flies first, then wasps. Ants. They lay eggs in open sores. Maggots hatch while you’re still breathing. Nature finishes what people start. They set you on stagnant water.

Sun above. Bugs everywhere. Days pass. Skin rots. Mind goes. Ancient accounts say it could take  2 weeks to die. 2 weeks of being eaten alive. No crowd cheers here. Just waiting. This wasn’t punishment.  It was erasia. And that’s the list. 20 ways humans proved something important. Not that they were cruel, but that cruelty could be written into law.

 Guilt into applauded by crowds. If you don’t follow where these passions lead, they reset, subscribe to candle lit history, because forgetting is how this becomes normal again. If you survived history, it wasn’t because the system was kind. It’s because it hadn’t noticed you yet.

 And if this bothered you, good. That means you’re still human. Because the worst part of these punishments wasn’t the pain.