Once upon a deception

The Cause 1

Her savior put a hand over her lips as he quietly led her on to a shop. After her encounter with the merchant, Clarisse was sure to be careful who she trusted but something about this man said she could trust him. The shop was a workshop, A blacksmith’s workshop to be precise. When they were finally safe from the crowd, The man spoke.

“You should not be out there. If they lay their hands on you. You know very well what they would do.”

Clarisse winced. “Kill me as they did to my mother or sell me out to sick men.”

The Barrel chested man wiped sweat creasing up his brows. There was a glint of worry in his eyes. Maybe the wonder as to how a young child would understand very well how her world worked. It was saddening to see. He left her to tend to his bellows while Clarisse stole the opportunity to admire her savior’s works. The experience was new to her and it somehow managed to take over her pain momentarily. There were shafts of arrowheads, just needing fitting arrowheads to argument their beauty. On the walls were several elaborate looking instruments of battle like shields and swords, each different from the other. The one thing they all shared was the Initials R.W. One interesting weapon caught her sight. It was a small dagger that seemed light with a waved patterned blade fixed unto the leather hilt. It was precious. As Clarisse admired the work, Cold hands tapped on her shoulders. She shuddered and immediately turned back.

“What are you looking for child?” a narrow featured woman asked, dropping the pot of water nested her head unto the floor.

Clarisse wasn’t sure what to say so she just remained quiet while the woman brushed down her wet hair. The woman then turned to the man working the bellows and continued, “Reuben, A client’s ward is here to see you.”

The man immediately turned and replied to her. “She isn't from a client.”

 The woman nodded in confusion, unsure of what her husband meant so she returned to question the little girl. As she opened her mouth to speak, Her eyes caught the repulsive branding on Clarisse’s legs and She immediately recoiled.

“Reuben! She is one of Marcel’s slave.”

Reuben, The blacksmith rushed over to shut his apprehensive wife. One mistake and they themself could be hanged for hoarding or abetting the Loan shark’s properties.

“Keep quiet, You could put us in huge danger.” The Blacksmith said with a hushed tone to his wife.

“I should keep quiet? We should hand her over to the magistrate right this instant before she puts us all in hot soup.” The woman retorted.

 Chilling fear crept into Clarisse at that moment. Maybe she made the wrong choice after all. It was quite certain that her fate was set in stone. The woman’s fear wasn’t borne out of hatred for her. Every wife and mother in her shoes would do this. The city was a cold place and there was no good Samaritan. Wohar was a place where even brothers would betray each other for a loaf of bread. It was every man for himself. The smith groaned in response, backing away from his wife. She did not take it likely and continued her assault.

“Think about our son! How will he cope if we are dead?”

Having enough of his wife, The man shot back. “What about that little girl? She watched her mother die today. I just saved her from the rabid street and you want me to throw her back there again? I don’t know about you but I am not a monster.”

 The blacksmith’s wife took one last look at Clarisse and perhaps the little girl’s tears brought back her humanity, Just a tiny fragment of it. “Do whatever you want Reuben but don’t be stupid.” With that, She stomped outside to get over her husband’s stuck up ways. The Blacksmith watched her go while Clarisse tried wiping away her tears, finding it hard to read the man that just saved her. She could tell he was conflicted between being a good citizen and a good person. Eventually, she saw his bulky figure shadow before her. He had a disarming smile on and on his right hand was the dagger she had been admiring from before.

“Do not be afraid.” He pacified. “I am not going to sell you want. We live off the city and there is a big chance your captors will never find you.”

Clarisse choked at his words. Was he risking his life to save hers?

“You want me to stay?”

“Something like that.” He stretched her tiny hands open and dropped the strangely warm blade unto her palms. “I also wanted you to have this. You were admiring it.”

 Clarisse had never had a father figure. The one that spawned her sold her to this fate. At a young age, She learned t trust no one, especially men. They always wanted something. Everyone wanted something. But something about this man was different. It had to be the whisper the goddess sang to her heart. Slowly, She clutched unto the blade and looked into the man’s eyes.

“Thank you.”

***

9 YEARS LATER

 I remember…

 It was a tradition for Clarisse to remember every ounce of torture she had endured each time she clocked a new age. Tremors of pain shot up her soul. It was strangely empowering. It made her most dreaded chore; Dishwashing easier. Her fellow sister, Lina however groaned and grumbled as she cleared the plates f chunks of rotten food before dousing it in water and scrubbing like her life depended on it. Indirectly, her life depended on it. If she wished to enjoy living like a free-born, She had to give back to the Collective. Lina was one of the recently rescued indentured who happened to survive a gruesome black Friday. She still wasn’t used to the hard life. It was hard but at least they got to eat bread like human beings and the beautiful part was they served no one. However, There were rules. Rules Clarisse had become accustomed to since her arrival. As Clarisse scrubbed her portion of plates clean, Lina stroke a conversation with her.

“Do you think Lord Vincent will return with the captives?” The Fiery haired girl asked.

 Clarisse finally stole her a glance. She wasn’t sure what to say. She pushed her falling hair behind her back before giving the girl a befitting reply.

“I hope so. We have already lost the last two raids. Vincent is worried but I have faith.”

 With that, They continued their chores which they both completed before nightfall then they returned to the village. Clarisse and the girl parted ways when they reached the Village’s front. Clarisse retired to her hut which took her weeks to construct. Most of the buildings erected in the village excluding Vincent’s were built of mud and palm fronds. It was simple and could easily be destroyed if in any case they were found out by the Great god’s sword. Clarisse dropped to the floor and said a small prayer to the scorned bride before retrieving a small momentum from her dress pocket. It was the dagger she had gotten from a man that was like a father to her up until her curse took away his life. Small tears fled from her eyes as her fingers traced the initials on the blade. R.W. Reuben Williamson. Suddenly, The earth beneath her began to tremble. It felt like an earthquake but Clarisse had spent enough time around to differentiate between the world having a fit and the sound of a thousand hooves beating against the earth. That could only mean one thing. The fighters were back from their raid. Clearing her puffy eyes, Clarisse rushed outside to see them in their glory. Smoke rose from the horizon as several other people came to see how the fight went. Some boys were already screaming in excitement. They had faith, mad faith. There on the horizon, came a faint outline of the soldiers. The screams of celebration stopped when every eye noticed that not only were the soldiers cut in number, Lord Vincent had an arrow sticking out his underbelly.