A Midsummer's Saga Pt. 07

"Sir!" he boomed.

"Has Princess Gabrielle ever talked to you about the prisoner?"

Dodo replied nothing, but looked incredibly guilty.

"Dodo!"

"She... she asked to see him once, sir. I let her in and they talked for ten minutes, sir."

Clement threw his hands in the air. "Dodo, I expressly told you never to let anyone to the prisoner!"

The guard looked like he was on the verge of tears. "I know, sir, but her being a royal princess, sir, and a granddaughter to a king, sir, and she asked so nicely, sir and..."

Clement pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright. Dodo, alright. Calm down. Go down there and chain up the prisoner, I want to talk to him at once."

*

In that first moment, when Gabrielle suddenly moved away and he fell down, Aerin didn't know what was happening. He landed on the floor and for a second just stood there, startled; it was only when he heard Clement's voice that he realized they might have been caught.

Then, to his terror, he saw Gabrielle's underwear, snow-white on the dungeon floor. He snatched it and tucked it under his bedding, to join with the book and the mirror. He then sat down by the wall and pretended to sleep, listening to the talk outside. His heart was pounding, but at least he immediately lost his erection.

He's heard all that they said, and his skin crawled. Clement knew that something was going on. Clement knew, and Gabrielle was in deep shit.

He heard them get up and walk away. He sat still for a moment yet, and then realized.

He's gonna come here.

He leapt to his bedding and recovered the book, the mirror, and the underwear. He looked frantically around. There was no better place to hide them.

Barely even thinking, he tore off a strip of material off his leggings and wrapped her things all together in a bundle.

The door in the room above opened. Clement shouted out at Dodo.

Aerin jumped to the window. The nearest juniper shrub was maybe ten feet away. He pushed his right arm out of the bars with the bundle underhand. He made a few trial moves. He'd have to make the throw entirely from his elbow and wrist. The package had about the right weight.

The inner door opened and he heard Dodo run down the stairs.

He made the throw. The bundle made an arc, rotating in the air, hit the grass a foot from the shrub, bounced, and landed underneath it. It rested, brown-coloured against the earth.

He jumped down and rested his arms on his knees at exactly the moment Dodo appeared, a pair of manacles jangling in his hand.

"You, hands!" he bellowed.

And now would come the hard part.

Dodo did his usual thing with locking, locking and unlocking, and soon Aerin stood in the middle of the cell with his hands high above his head, fettered to the ceiling. One of his calves was naked where he had ripped his legging, but he doubted that would be noticed. He breathed in and braced himself.

In, melodious with the clinking of the keys, walked Clement. He stepped right up to Aerin, their faces inches away.

Clement smiled.

"Well, then, you piece of shit, what do have to say so interesting that a princess keeps coming to listen?"

Aerin's mind raced. He obviously would know by now from Dodo that Gabrielle had been here once. He'd figured out that she was coming to the garden to talk to him. But maybe he didn't know the other things. He licked his lips, which still tasted of her.

"I only talked to her like twice for a few minutes, she..."

With no warning, Clement punched him with full force in the stomach. All air escaped him; his stomach muscles were all stretched out and had no way to curl up; like a drowning man, he struggled to breathe in again. The pain was overpowering, welling up, right from the diaphragm. Fuck, he thought, his vision fluttering. What is it with these people and sucker punches?

Clement grabbed him by the cheeks and drew himself even closer. Aerin could see all the individual hair in his eyebrows, growing sparse over the ridge of his brow.

"Don't lie to me. What were your meetings like?"

Aerin finally gasped in enough air to answer.

"She... fuck... she was just curious about Kontaria. She asked me about life there, that sort..."

He was now ready and flexed his abs before Clement's fist connected, and he put all his weight on the fetters so that his body bounced backwards like a punching bag. It wasn't much help. He felt his mouth water up, his eyes tear up, and his muscles convulse. He would have screamed, if his whole chest wasn't contracted already.

Now, to be different, Clement pulled him close by his hair. "Okay, same question. But this time, the truth."

Aerin wheezed. He spat down on the floor. He opened his mouth, but no sound came.

"Speak up!"

Aerin flinched. "I swear. It's true."

Clement stared into him. Aerin was sure his stomach would burst if he got hit one more time.

But the majordomo now let go of him. He took a few steps, circling around his captive, as Aerin fought to breathe, to keep the pain down, to hold himself together.

When Clement returned to his original spot, he was smiling again. He put his hand on Aerin's shoulder -- a gesture which surely would have been more effective had said shoulder not been held up by the chains.

"Alright, maybe I overreacted here a bit. Listen to me. The princess has a bit of a reputation for, well, seeking out inappropriate sorts of male company. If she... imposed herself on you in any way, I'll understand, you were in no position to refuse. Moreover, if you tell me the whole truth about your meetings, well -- I have influence here. Maybe I can arrange for you to be treated mercifully. Maybe I can arrange for you to be set free! Go home! Hm? What do you think?"

Aerin lifted up his head and looked at Clement. Through the dull, deep, thudding, hollow ache, he now understood. Up until this moment, he had thought that Clement was furious about the security breach, about the princess in his custody coming into contact with an enemy also in his custody. But now he got it. It was only about Gabrielle.

He twitched until he forced his face into a sort of a smile.

"I... thank you sir but... I told you the truth..."

He couldn't say if the third blow was the worst. His knees gave in, hanging him sharply by his wrists, and he dry heaved as his stomach gave an impression of falling apart but, honestly, in that very moment he was beyond feeling anything other than helpless disbelief.

"Dodo!" Clement shouted. The guard materialized immediately. He took a look at the shaking Aerin.

"Uh, sir, is the prisoner alright?"

"Yes, he's fine, just a bit of indigestion. He can't handle all the fine food that Pelagius keeps sending. Listen, this cell is no good for him. We're moving him deeper."

"Oh. Okay, I'll just bring the manacles..."

"No, don't bother. He's not running anywhere right now."

When Dodo freed his wrists, Aerin fell to the floor, clutching his stomach, finally able to fold up. He lay down there and took some unsteady gasps before the guard picked him up, slung him over his shoulder, and carried him down the hallway deeper into the dungeon. Beyond a bend of the corridor there was the deepest cell, small and windowless, in almost complete darkness.

"This will do," Clement said.

Dodo carefully put Aerin on the floor inside and locked the door in the grating.

"Alright. Dodo, I'm sending another soldier to sit with you in the guard room, let's keep this more secure from now on. As for you," he looked to the floor, "you sit there and reconsider. I'll see you again very soon."

It took a while before Aerin had the strength to sit up. The pain was receding somewhat. He rubbed his abdomen, and carefully flexed his muscles, group by group. His internal organs seemed fine, if sore.

On shaking legs, he walked up to the barely visible bars. Some thirty feet to his right, a tiny bit of daylight was getting in from the corridor when he had previously been held. He sat down, arms wrapped around his stomach, bit down on his knee, and let out a voiceless howl. With more guards, the escape plan was done for. In the world above him, Gabrielle was beyond his reach, and at Clement's mercy. He'd never see her again. He'd never see anything at all beyond this cell.

*

Gabrielle nervously adjusted her collar, straightened up her dress, and looked out of the window. Clement's study in the Great Hall offered through its large windows a good view all over the inner courtyard, and she could see that the man was still not coming. She'd now waited for about ten minutes.

Later she'd wonder why it hadn't occurred to her that as she was sitting here, the majordomo was trying to force information out of Aerin. Perhaps at she was simply, for the last time, underestimating the man.

She tried to get a good, honest idea of what he could have seen. The junipers and the yews were very dense, untrimmed for ages. You could only see the outer courtyard, and be seen from it, from a certain height, unless you were quite close and came from the direction of the gatehouse. Clement had arrived from the opposite side, the inner courtyard. He couldn't have seen her legs between the bars, she was sure.

But of course he'd noticed the state she'd been in. He could very well think it was her nervousness at being caught talking to the prisoner, however. He knew that she was coming to that garden for Aerin, she was certain of that. And he could just ask Dodo about the first meeting.

So if this is what he wanted to talk about, she'd confess to talking to Aerin. She'd tell him she wanted to find out more about Kontaria. You should know your enemy, shouldn't you? She shouldn't have done this without permission, sure. But all in all it's perfectly understandable. Not a bit reprehensible. All so defensible.

Finally, Clement appeared outside of the window. She tensed up, straight and rigid in the high-back wooden chair. Her knee was burning, and on the fabric of her dress grazing against it she could feel a small spot of cooling blood. She wished she had her underwear on.

He entered the room with an aura of seriousness about him. The room was well fit for this mood -- its sparse and only essential furniture was simple and unembellished, walls whitewashed and the beams in them black and the desk which dominated the space covered with scraps of paper and parchment.

He put down a chair opposite of her and stared in silence for a moment. She assumed an expression of curious innocence.

"Gabrielle, you understand that consorting with an enemy is a very serious crime?"

Alright, not beating about the bush then. Better put up a token line of defence, so that he has something to win over.

"I was never consorting with an enemy."

"Don't." He leaned forward and joined the tips of his fingers. "You've been talking with him for days."

"I..."

"Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to go to Lady Paula right now, we'll launch a formal inquest, and we're going to draw out of the prisoner all the details of your meetings."

She didn't move, but inwardly she recoiled. There goes the plan. If Aerin escapes with outside help, it will now be clear that it was her. And... draw out? She looked straight ahead, and felt coldness at the base of her skull.

Clement tapped his lips with his index fingers. "Or, you could persuade me not to do that."

Oh. Now she closed her eyes. Yes, obviously. She didn't know why she was even surprised. She wondered how long had he been waiting to gain this sort of leverage on her.

"Persuade you how?" she asked, though she knew the answer.

"Well, tonight after sundown I have to take a short trip out, maybe one or two hours, to supervise a signal fires test -- part of my job, you see. If upon my return you'd be kind enough to visit me in my chamber, I'm sure we could spend some quality time together." He inclined his head. "Of course, if you don't want to, I understand. I'll just go right to Lady Paula."

She stood up with a sigh. "Don't bother, I'll see you." You weaselling piece of shit.

He raised his eyebrows. "I'll be waiting, then...?"

"Yeah. Until later." She left the room and closed the door behind her with a decisive clap.

He remained seated in his place. With a little hesitation, he let his hands down and tapped his fingers quickly on his knees. Well, that's sorted then. Went easier than expected, really. Her reputation was true, she didn't need much convincing to get into your bed.

He wondered if the boy was actually telling the truth, and they only ever talked about Kontaria. He was inclined to doubt it, but he had no idea what other relations they could have had. Surely, she hadn't found a way to fuck that guy, too?

Oh well. Sooner or later he'd find out what went on exactly. For now, he had an entirely pleasant night to look forward to. He walked over to the desk and mechanically straightened up a bit of parchment. This wasn't his proudest moment, but after all, he was working so hard. Wasn't he too entitled to some fun every once in a while?

*

As Clement reached his conclusion, Gabrielle reached her chamber. She shood Mista away and leaned against the door. Slowly, gradually, her fingers curled, skin going white under the fingernails where she pressed hard, hard, harder against the wood.

Hypocritical, scheming asswipe! Brown-nosing two-faced son of a bitch! Fucking cunt of a bullshit-slinging opportunistic little cocksucker! Peak Behem!

The pressure resolved with her hand slamming against the door with full force. Palm tingling, she stiffly walked up to her wardrobe and put on a new pair of underwear. She wiped the blood off her knee. She went up to the window and looked outside.

Alright, she thought, mind dull like an oncoming storm, if he wants to play like this, he'll get what he wants. She'll go and have sex with him, nice and enthusiastic, leaving him wanting more. She'll keep it up for a few days, and then bam -- the day the ox carts leave, a servant wakes him up saying that Dodo's stuck in the shitter and that his prisoner is gone.

There was some commotion starting in the outer courtyard, but she paid it no attention.

So then what will you do, Clement? Will you go to Paula and say that I'm the one who did it? And that you think that because you knew that I talked to him all along, it's just you used it to blackmail me for sex? Nah, with Aerin gone, who will know whose dark secret, Clement? I can scarcely be more condemned for another affair, but you? Paula's spotless majordomo?

Yeah, Clement. I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you good.

The commotion in the courtyard was growing. Some people were gathering in groups, some running off in different directions.

And suddenly she caught a glimpse of blue, hurrying through the grass. Clement himself, tiny from this distance, ran in among the crowd, and started urgently ordering the servants around.

Huh.

She left the window and went out of the door, travelled the length of the corridor, and started down the stone staircase. Halfway through it, she saw below her two senior servants gliding briskly through the chequered floor of the entrance hall and talking loudly.

"...of course, it's a very short notice, but we'd been told to expect this, it's just a question if the cooks can manage on time..."

"Excuse me," said Gabrielle, leaning on the balustrade, "what is going on?"

The servants turned to her and bowed their heads. The older, a plump man with curly white hair, answered:

"My lady, a messenger has just arrived bearing news. We're going to have a very distinguished guest in the castle in just a few hours."

"A distinguished guest? Who's coming?"

The servant straightened up, adjusted his black livery, half-closed his eyes, threw his chin up, and put his hand flat against his chest. He was evidently delighted to project this air of great formal solemnity. He gave a little cough, took in a little air, and then, satisfied with the build-up, finally replied: "Why, my lady, it's the Lord of Haratraz himself. His Highness, Duke Oren."

*

Two short horn signals sounded from the gatehouse.

There was a collective adjustment of clothes.

There was a creaking of tightening leather as the soldiers stood to attention in their even row.

There were short whispers from the small crowd of commoners gathered behind it.

There was no reaction from Lady Paula. She stood motionless and looked sternly to the gatehouse, early evening breeze in her long mousy hair. Next to her, Clement cleared his throat. He had spent the last ten minutes thinking if there was anything he might have forgotten, but to his relief he kept finding nothing. He had also spent them not looking at Gabrielle, standing just five feet to his left in a fresh white dress.

As for her, she kept him mostly out of her mind for now. The past three hours she spent in eager anticipation. The Duke coming here -- apparently in a great hurry -- it could only really mean one thing. She looked down to the tips of her shoes to hide her grin. You did it, Kontaria. You've beaten that neckless piece of shit.

Beyond the gate the drawbridge rattled under many hooves and a moment later fifteen or so horsemen streamed into the courtyard, shimmering yellow and orange, the colours of Haratraz. Gabrielle couldn't discern the duke at first. He came on horseback, like the rest of his entourage. Most men of his rank, and especially his age, would have taken a carriage. She did some quick calculations. Duke Oren, by now, would be over eighty years old.

Then she recognized the round bald head and the sparkling white moustache, which she had seen from afar several times at the royal palace. He rode forward, his banner bearer close behind him. Lady Paula smiled slightly and took a step forward. And Gabrielle realized that her whole posture betrayed something she would have never expected from the lady -- a hint of uncertainty, and deference.

Yet it made sense. Paula was the absolute, assured ruler of her corner of the world, and she largely owed that to her relation with the King. She was his old friend, and deep inside him the monarch shared all of her convictions, beliefs and morals. It was said at the court that to Paula was attuned the King's heart.

Yet Oren was the King's older friend still. And to Oren was attuned the King's mind.

Presently the duke got off his horse with smooth ease, handed his equestrian gloves to the banner bearer, and started towards Paula. When he was just a few steps away, he looked at her, opened his arms wide, and smiled the warmest smile to be found in the entire Kingdom.

"My lady dear! It has been too long!"

Paula's own smile was just a tiny bit sheepish. "My lord! I am delighted to welcome you in Behem."

They clasped their hands. His voice was just a touch wheezy, loud and buoyant, but its timbre colourless. "I am awfully sorry to inconvenience you on such a short notice. I'm afraid the matters of the state flow fast, and I can't help but to float with them."

Paula introduced him to the castle's bigwigs; and then, also, to Gabrielle.

"I am very glad to finally meet you, Princess," he said, taking her hand. "I value your father's friendship very much." She smiled at him and responded with all the appropriate niceties, while carefully scanning his face. He was short, shorter than she was. His pristine, perfectly white moustache contrasted with his skin, a sun-swept darkened skin, criss-crossed with a thousand hairline wrinkles. She'd like to flatter her judgement by claiming that she noticed some warning signs in his appearance; but despite trying, she saw none. His smile was charming; his posture open and friendly; his large and clear brown eyes looking into hers were full only of genuine kindness, with nothing disturbing to be found lurking beneath. It was only his sinewy, hard grip that vaguely hinted at the stories relied about him, relied quietly; of the mind encased in this warm exterior, a mind hard and deathly cold.