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3. Release
Clara woke slowly, the sun shining through the window. She was warm and felt clean. She moved
around the bed, gathering the bedclothes with her body, curling inside them. The man who had left her
in the early hours lived in luxury. Yet for all that, he was a good lover, though she suspected that she
would not be telling him that anytime soon. She had luxuriated in the bath as long as she could before
Captain Lared’s attentions had made her finally succumb, her response encouraged by her reticence to
spend another night with heavy chains weighing down her ankles, amidst the stench and filth of the
dungeons in the Riverwake Tower.
She moaned softly then sat up with a start as she realised that she was not alone. Lared had gone, but
the guards remained, staring at her from the doorway at the far end of the apartment. Had they been
here during their night’s lovemaking. By the goddess, had these people no shame? She fell down on the
bed again, smirking as she realised that her stay in prison had perhaps been a lot better on this occasion
than on the last, despite the fact that Lared seemed to be getting the better of the deal. She wondered
however, where the encounter would lead, hoping that she might end up back in the garret room above
Maria’s tavern.
A swish of robes announced Lared’s return. Smiling as he approached her huddled form, he lowered
and kissed her forehead. Clara tried not to smile back, but could not help herself. Despite the fact that
he commanded the worst prison in the western provinces, she was, despite herself, now quite attracted
to him.
He sat on the bed, brushing her hair from her face. Clara had trouble believing that this man had sent
her to the dungeons to be placed in chains, threatened her with being condemned to the galleys. She
turned away.
“What happens now Lared?”
“Now?” he repeated. “Ah Clara, now we…”
“Excuse me Sir!”
They both sat up, Clara still naked, clutching the bedclothes around her.
Lared turned. As he did so, Clara saw the old guard with the pointed nose, who had lusted after her in
the dungeon. She breathed in sharply.
“What is it Mirch?” Lared snapped, annoyed at having his tender attentions disturbed.
Mirch, for first time, took his eyes away from Clara and looked to his Master.
“Sir, the Duke Sir. Duke Farlech is here to see you.”
“I see,” said Lared, suddenly rising as Clara instinctively pulled herself further away from Mirch and
the thoughts that she could almost feel racing through his brain.
“Will I bring him here Sir?”
Mirch suppressed the smile that both listeners knew that he wanted to make.
“No, Mirch. You will not. I shall see him in the guardroom.”
Lared stared at him.
“You will accompany me. See that the guards keep an eye on the lady.”
“Lady Sir?” This time Mirch could not hide the sarcastic tone in his voice. “She is but a …”
Mirch stopped as Lared stared.
“She is a former prisoner, Mirch. If you wish to be a current one, keep talking!”
Mirch swallowed nervously and backed away from the bed.
“As you wish Sir.”
Lared nodded and with a swish of his robe began to march toward the door. Mirch snatched a wicked
glance at Clara as she pulled the bedclothing tightly around her.
He watched her now from the door, after the Captain’s departure, discussing and laughing with the
guards, until they all stared. By the goddess, she did not want to go back to that dungeon now. Better
the warmth of this bed and even the Captain’s touch compared to lying naked in a pool of urine with
chained feet, in those stinking cells.
Clara clung to the sheets as Mirch and the guards stared at her, trying to retain her calm composure in
the hope that Lared would soon return. She almost cried a sigh of relief, when he came back, carrying a
bundle of clothes.
He smiled as he approached.
“Put these on. They are the remnants of what you removed yesterday. You will be freed,” he
whispered. Clara sensed that the Captain did not wish for his men to hear his words, or indeed, the fact
that he was letting her go, without a visit to the whipping post, stocks or the wooden horse. She nodded
her thanks and slowly began to dress. Her blouse was torn, though she was able to tie it together so that
she would not wander the streets of Irulan half naked.
Though he watched her closely, Clara concentrated more on getting the clothes on and getting out of
the Riverwake Tower. She had to admit though, this second visit had certainly been more pleasurable
than the first.
She stood up, dressed now. Lared smiled evilly.
“Come…I’ll take you out.”
Clara nodded eagerly, her last glance at the evil face of Mirch as she followed the Captain through the
main doors. She received curious looks from the guards as he led her to the gate, noting that the Duke,
or whoever Lared had left to see earlier, appeared to have gone.
She reached the main gate, a guard opening it part way to let out the lithe figure of the woman who he
had seen brought in bound but a day or so before. He watched aghast, looking to his senior commander
Captain Lared, for he had never seen a prisoner released in this fashion before. Usually they were led in
chains from their cell to slavery, the square for punishment or as bent old hags who had spent too long
surviving in the prison hell of the Riverwake.
But now Clara walked free. She turned once to Lared as he watched from the small opening in the
black gate.
“Thank you,” she heard herself say.
In answer Lared gave a mock bow.
“I hope we meet again, perhaps under more pleasing circumstances,” he added ruefully.
She nodded.
“Perhaps.”
The gate was closed with a thud and Clara stood alone in the street.
***
Lared removed his boots and sat on the wooden seat, sipping at the goblet of wine. He had to let her go,
he considered. That was the deal wasn’t it? Didn’t he have some small part of him that remained
honourable? Clara had been gone for less than four hours, yet still he could not easily put her from his
mind. He closed his eyes, remembering the rough skin on her back as he had run his hand along it,
flesh that had been sullied by the many tailed lash many years before. Aside from those healed marks
and her ugly brand she still remained beautiful and he tried to think of other women that he had been
with. Still, his thoughts returned again and again to Clara. Was she some witch who had ensorcelled
him with vile magics?
His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of heavy footfalls outside the door. The guards had left by
now, staying outside of the lower tower, there being little need for them inside Lared’s apartments
without a naked prisoner to watch.
Lared placed the wine back on the bench as he stood, responding now to the urgent knocking at the
thick door.
“Mirch, is that you?”
A coughed splutter was the only response.
“S..Sir, no sir, it is guardsman Rennet sir. Master Mirch is asleep..s..sir.”
Lared unlocked the heavy door and pulled it open.
“What is it soldier?”
The nervous young man stared back at him, terrified lest the message that he had to deliver might
inflame his master.
“It’s the woman…Clara sir. She’s at the gate. She wants to see you. It’s just…I haven’t been here long
sir, but no one has ever wanted to get back in.”
Lared could not prevent the smile that creased his features.
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