Once upon a deception

A scorned bride's gift

Clarisse found the strength to walk up to a store. The stall was packed with salt: The white pure ones shipped from a distant kingdom. In a small wooden crate were loaves of bread stacked upon each other perfectly. For the young girl, It meant jackpot. The man had his eyes set on his expensive salt and all she wanted was the fresh bread. Just one loaf. Having never perpetuated the act before, She wasn’t entirely sure what step she was to take. The shop owner’s hawk eyes preyed over the young girl and he immediately shot her a interrogative question.

“What do you want?”

The girl drained at his inquiry. What was she to say? She contemplated grabbing a loaf and fleeing for dear life. But she was smart enough to know that was a stupid idea. The market was a cruel place and she would be lynched if her legs couldn’t carry her fast enough.

“Girl, I am talking to you!” The man reminded.

“My mistress asked me to get a wrap of salt.” Clarisse sighed, shocked in spite of herself.

 The man observed her from head to toe before scooping down at his expensive salt and pouring her a wrap of white salt. Clarisse’s heart beat increased at a threatening intensity. She felt liquid drip from beneath her. What now? She was damned if she could provide a penny.

“Here.” The man interrupted, handing her a wrap of what she requested.

 Run now!, A voice in her head told her but she was far too petrified to even breathe. As she stretched her hands to received the folded white gold, The man withdrew it from her reach.

“Money.” He demanded. Clarisse gave a forced smile and pretended to search the several openings in her tattered clothes for her payment. She repeated the act again, This time with a look of worry glued on. The man became impatient and dropped the wrap of salt back to his wares.

“Do you not have the money on you?” The man inquired, A glum look on his rough face.

“I… thought I…” Clarisse tried to say but the store owner managed to counter her lies with a question that sent Clarisse shaking to her knees.

“Who is your Mistress?”

Run!, The voice told her yet again. It was however too late now. The man was on to her. She felt his eyes search her body for the mark. Clarisse saw his lips twist into a devious smile when he found the ugly marking. She wasn’t sure what thoughts were beginning to run by his mind but she did not like his new look. She stepped backwards in discomfort, trying to find a believable lie and maybe if she couldn't, There would opportunity for her to flee.

“Who is your mistress?” The man repeated.

“Lady Milena.” Clarisse replied.

The man looked at her marking for the second time before throwing her a second question. “From which house?”

“The house of Barre.” Clarisse answered. The thought of mentioning that house of horrors made her stomach recoil in disgust. Hate would forever be stronger than hunger. The man’s intimidating look disappeared and he gave Clarisse a smile.

“The house of Barre? You should have told me.” He said, handing over the salt.

A huge grin made its way to Clarisse’s heart for it would suspicious if her lips partook of her mischief. Did she really convince him into believing her lies? Clarisse didn’t give her mind the time to go into the details. She moved closer to the stall and reached out her needy hands to collect the wrap. It only took a flash of seconds for the man’s burly and calloused finger to latch unto her arm and he forcefully pulled her closer to him. He smelt of Ale, the cheap one. As Clarisse struggled to free herself from his grasp without bringing attention towards them. The man leaned in to whisper something frightening to her ear.

“You are the runaway slave, aren't you?” The man spat.

“No.”Clarisse promised, shrinking in fear. “I am an indentured to the house of Barre.” There was nothing she could do than stick to her lie and hope he bought it.

“The initials on your leg say different. Women don’t own slaves here in Wohar  and even slaves of the house of Barre are dressed like nobles.”

 Liquid dripped once again. This time, her bladder threatened to give up the fight. She was caught. She was done for. Nothing could save her now and all for a loaf of bread.

“No answer? You are the runaway slave.”

 There was no denial. No one escaped the Great God’s divine justice. Clarisse weighed her options. Not that there was much to consider but in good faith; her faith in humanity, She did the one reasonable thing to do. Plead for her dear life.

“Please Sire, Have mercy.”

“Marcellus will pay handsomely to have your head on a plate.” He continued. “But I can keep my mouth shut if we can help each other out.” His unprofessional behaviour was beginning to watch the eyes of madams around but no one dared speak a word for men ruled the streets. They simply mumbled words to each other and got on their way, leaving the poor girl to her cruel fate. Clarisse was disgusted by the man. Even without having to say it, She knew very well what he was getting at.

“I am but a child sire.” Clarisse tried to mouth, not sure if this was the perfect time to scream.

“Nonsense.” The monster shot back. “You will be caught and sold as a w***e to the highest bidder anyway. I am giving you a chance to survive. I promise you food and a pouch of gold to sustain you.”

 Tears clouded Clarisse’s eyes. She watched her mother die moments ago. She hadn't even gotten to grieve her and now she was about to be defiled by a sick man. Tears is for the weak, A firm voice told her. The world is a cruel place and your pain will not change that. You either join the world or you fight it. It was a piece of advice her mother had given her years before when they had the dreaded talk. The word gave Clarisse strength when she needed it the most. She felt a ripple of energy spread through her and without thinking, Clarisse acted on her instinct. With the speed of a wild cat, She sunk her teeth unto the man’s burly arms and tore out a chunk of raw flesh. The man screamed and withdrew his arrest,freeing Clarisse. The girl took good use of the opportunity and rushed to snatch two loaves of warm bread before fleeing. Behind her, she heard the man’s agitated voice scream to the world, “She is one of the runaway slaves!”.  The world was now out for blood but it did not matter. The Great God did no longer steer the affairs of her life, His scorned bride did. The sound of whistles and and cries somewhere behind her spurred to a new speed. Clarissa bent down an alley,scrambling to safety. She somehow lost the crowd but they were still hot on her tail. More whistles sounded as she tried to climb over a wall with one bread to the floor and the order secured in between her teeth. Safety had to be on the other side but the young girl barely clambered the wall as the sound of the mad mob closed in on her. Just when she was about lose hope in the potency of the goddess, She felt felt strong hands pull her through.