Tower Of Repentance

I followed the woman up the stairs of the tower. The cold unyielding rocks closing in on either side the stairway narrowing the higher we climbed. The stairs were deliberately tight so only one man at a time could ascend them. Easy prey for a defender. I could not imagine what it would be like to try and ascend these stairs in the face of opposition. Knowing that you have to die to force one more step. We reached a small door, my companion was small but even she had to stoop to make her way through. I followed, the room beyond was bare, arrow slits punctured the walls allowing thin slithers of light to provide the gloomiest of illumination.

I could however in the dim light discern the set of chains in the corner the collar connected to manacles with a set of shackles for the ankles.

"What is the meaning of this," I asked, angered at having climbed the stairs for a bare room.

"You know what the meaning of this is, you may try and pretend you do not, but you know in your heart. You are marked for death, we both know that. You tried to defraud my Father, his word is law and your life if forfeit. You are now my prize and this is your new home."

In a moment I realised what she proposed, amazed I replied. "Are you mad, you think I will let you chain me up, become your prisoner. I have done nothing." Even to me my protestations of innocence sounded hollow and false.

The woman turned and looked out of the arrow slit into the courtyard below. I looked at her back her braid reaching down past her waist. "I have no desire to see you killed you are useful, so I am giving you a choice. I cannot stop you descending the stairs again and leaving the tower but if you do, you will be dead before sunset. You cannot escape the castle."

"This is madness I would rather die fighting than chained in this tower."

"As you wish," she said quietly, "as you wish."

She turned her face calm, untroubled by my protestations. "Death is so final, so absent of opportunity. It is devoid of chance or interest, robs one of all agency, desire and pleasure. It takes your looks as your face rots, and makes all equal, equal to nothing. I am giving you a chance of life."

"You are not giving me anything, how will this save me. Locked in this tower, helpless I can be killed by your father at anytime. He wishes me dead, pardon my impertinence if I do not trust his daughter to have my best interests at heart."

"Do you know what this tower is?"

"No," I replied curious despite myself. I knew I was in mortal danger, knew her father wished to have my head on a stake. Those, and only those thoughts should have driven any other considerations from my mind but something in her tone made me curious. I nodded in a sign for her to continue.

"It is the Tower of Repentance. Many men have been placed in those chains, some died in this room, some released after an age. All forgotten. Escape is impossible, prisoners are completely at the mercy of the gaoler. They live or die, are cold or comfortable at the whim of the gaoler and only the gaoler. None other may come here, that is the law."

"You mean I will become your prisoner, repent my sins and perhaps maybe you will release me. I think I will take my chances with the hangman. How did this mad law come about, " I said too loud with a nervous laugh.

"Centuries ago a woman was wronged. The old tale of lies told, comfort given and love betrayed. The man was to be put to death but the woman asked for a boon. That the man be placed in this tower his fate totally at her control. Left until she decided he should be released. Since then men may throw themselves at the mercy of the women of this house. They may become prisoners of repentance.

"What of the first man, what was his fate?"

"He died in those chains after many years of torment and pain. Her fury never abated, his lies never forgiven."

"Why do you offer me this, why are you doing this, it is madness."

"I offer you this because it would amuse me to have you as my prisoner. My plaything to be tormented or cherished as I desire. Held here at my whim until such time as I release you one way or another.

The look on her face sent a chill through my body, my heart started to race, blood pounding through my veins. This was real, this madness she proposed was a real thing. I ran for the door and fled down the narrow steps balancing haste and fear of falling in equal regard. Panting I arrived at the door to the tower and in front was a semi circle of men, twenty men at arms some with halberds others crossbows, all unsmiling. The Lord sat on his horse behind them, his face fixed and stern.

I drew my sword and retreated into the tower. Backing slowly up the steps I had just moments before descend.

"It is difficult is it not," said the woman's voice behind me. "You can walk out there and die, it will be over quickly perhaps, though my father can be a cruel man. Your only other option is the tower and becoming my prisoner. Perhaps your thinking of kidnapping me and using me as a hostage to buy your freedom. It might work, but if it did not your punishment at my fathers hands would be a sight."

I did not turn to look at her my focus totally on the door to the tower. My mind swirled round thinking of a stratagem that could lead to my escape. But there were non, perhaps I could run into the soldiers sword drawn and fight my way through. Halberds and crossbows, I would be dead in seconds or worse, crippled and in pain left to die for hours. My foot of its own volition placed a step back.

My body knew the fear and reacted to it. Deep down I did not wish to die. Did not yet wish to experience the endless darkness and oblivion of death. There was only then one other choice, one way to prolong my life.

"Will you be kind to me," I asked not taking my eyes from the entrance to the tower. Dark shadows crept slowly through the threshold revealing the presence of guards without.

"No, I will not be kind," came the reply.

"Why?" again not turning but my mind already made up. Hers was the only escape but some small crumb of comfort would ease my choice.

"Because it would amuse me. Outside of this tower your life will end, the tower is your sanctuary but also your prison. That room will be you world, perhaps until the end of your days."

The wall beyond the door was now almost completely in shadow. Those without standing close, their patience stretching. Soon they would come, halberds and crossbows bourne in anger, neither ideal weapons in the close confines of the staircase. But there was just one of me, just one poor soul.

I dropped my sword the loud clattering echoing mockingly, as it slid down to the bottom of the stairs. I turned and walked up the tower once more, retracing my steps, hesitant but knowing there was no other option, no means of escape. She was standing in the centre of the room looking at me as I entered. A small mocking smile played on her lips.

"Remove your clothes and put on the chains," she said.

"Please, do not do this," I said.

She walked past me through the door and shut it. I heard the bolts being pushed home, a key turned. It was strange I did not protest, did not try and stop her. I lived now confined in this tower my only company a set of chains secured on the wall.

I sat and surveyed the room. It was small, circular not more than five paces wide. The roof ended in a point far above my head, wooden beams supporting it. It would be impossible to climb up and if I did so what would it avail me. Climbing down the outside of the tower would be madness, certainly a death sentence. The two arrow slits looked out onto the hills beyond or down to the courtyard of the castle. Each was barely a hand breadth wide, their depth at least a foot.

There was no escape from this room. Foolishly I had not wished to look at the chains, they held a terror that I found difficult to rationalise. I forced myself and approached them closely for the first time. The chains were of thick dark iron. Old but not rusty. The locks were simple, a bolt tightened by a wrench but the head of the bolt was recessed into the iron in such a way as to make it impossible for bare fingers to reach. The key was a simple socket that fitted over the bolts. I had no doubt that once secured in them a person would never be able to free themselves. I thought I would never willingly allow myself to feel their tight embrace but then looked round at the door. A door inches thick of oak, held shut by bolts and locks. It was obvious now. The door would not open again until I put the chains on, I would die of thirst after a few days.

I wondered how I had let it get to this. How I had been so foolish as to think I would be able to defraud a Lord in his castle. It has seemed so simple a plan without any possibility of failure. But I had failed and I was now trapped in a tower at the mercy of some young woman I barely knew. I was guilty and by the hideous laws of this land deserved the monstrous death planned for me by the Lord. Hanged upon a gibbet left to strangle no broken neck to give swift end to my agony. I did not know how he had found out, what had given me away. Perhaps when I asked for the gold, but his demeanour had been calm. My mind swirled round and round desperately seeking a stratagem that would lead to my release. Allow me to escape and once more ride into the hills and sit beside a stream.

I thought of shouting from the tower, seeking an ally in the square below but I saw no-one. I wondered why they would place me in a tower and not a dungeon in the lowest part of the castle's roots. Here there was air and a view across the land.

A view a person chained to the wall would never be able to see. Perhaps by straining they may perceive some small part of the sky I hoped. The room was shrinking I was sure of it. Darkness was settling in, its mantle spreading across the lands and in the tower the shadows grew longer then faded until all was dark. I in the darkest part of the room. It became so dark that opening or closing my eyes made no difference. I do not know honestly if I slept that night. Perhaps a second or a minute of oblivion the transition back to awareness so inconsequential that it passed like a gentle summer breeze on the face.

I became aware of dim light and stood looking out of the slit in the tower wall as the sun rose over the horizon. I was thirsty now, hunger beginning to bite my stomach. Hunger can be bourne for weeks. The pain constant, thirst is a quicker death but more wretched still. I squinted at the sun I would perhaps never see it again once bound. The melancholy struck me like a blow, I gasped. My mind raced for a means of escape, but each thought was more ludicrous than the last. I fought the urge to examine the door again. It was stout, rock hard oak beams, strengthened with iron nails. I gave in to my fear and walked over to the door looking for some slight hope. There was a slot perhaps two inches wide in the door at about head height. Obviously used to spy on those within. I looked through and saw eyes looking back at me.

"I take it the door will not open until I am naked and chained," I said, the defeat in my voice obvious.

"Correct, it is your first test, perhaps your last. Maybe I will wait until you are as weak as a kitten to put them on you as you lie helpless. Though in truth if you will not obey me perhaps there is no point, I bore easily. I will come to the tower again tomorrow in the morn. If you are not in the chains I will not return again until one month hence. That will be to open the door and allow my retainers to clean the filth, in anticipation of a more worthwhile occupant."

The eyes disappeared, I considered shouting after her, pleading for more time or a drink. I held my tongue such would be futile. There was no pity in those eyes.

The day passed and I looked around the room a hundred times. Each time finding nothing that would avail me a means of escape. The toilet was a simple hole inches square that led to a spout over the wall of the castle. I noted it was within reach of the chain. I held the chains, knowing that soon I would be within their hard restraint. I waited until dawn to do that which I had to do. I removed all my clothes and placed first the shackles around my ankles. Then the collar and finally I secured my wrists. A short chain led from the collar to the a ring on the wall. My hands could move about eight inches apart my ankles twice that. I was able to stand and take a pace one way and then two paces the other. I was unable to see out of the slits, not even the sky as much as I strained.

The door opened and the young woman entered. She was wearing a simple smock and skirt that reached to her ankles. She wore no bonnet her hair drawn back into a braid down her back.

"I am as you demanded. What will happen to me now," I asked simply.

"You may call it a right of passage or even a part of my education. My father believes you cannot truly know a man until you bring them to extremis. Before all is veiled in the many faces a man constructs for himself in life. The son, the father the rouge and lothario. Each facade hiding the true person underneath. I will strip away each of those layers from you until you are as mentally naked as you are physically. Once all has been completed then I may decide to let you live. Tell me how did you get the scar on your hip?"

"Why should I tell you this?"

"Currency, you will spend stories to buy my company. If your stories do not entertain me then you will remain alone with your own thoughts. But you have a garrulous nature a desire to have company. I do not think for one minute you will would prefer endless solitude for the opportunity to engage with another human. As times goes by you will have to spend more and more to keep my attention. Until you have nothing left. No interesting stories of you real life and then you will invent, create new adventures to entertain me."

I looked down at the floor, wishing with all me heart to tell her she was a fool to spit defiance at her face. A smirk flitted across my face, humour when I felt non, humour directed at my own foolish hubris. I had no control over what happened no leverage, I gave her stories or I lived in solitude. No, not lived, existed in the misery of my own mind and regrets.

"As you wish, the scar was from a fall," I said.

"Your story bores me, make it more interesting or I will seek my pleasures elsewhere."

"Is this how you entertain yourself, torturing helpless people for you pleasure."

"An interesting observation on a number of levels. Education is rarely a pleasure, my father requires me to be educated in the ways of the world. To be able to make the correct decisions, without flinching or remorse. While helpless you are not an innocent. Your fate was to hang, you have a slight chance to live free once more. The alternative to acting as a lesson for me is to be dead. You are an exercise, like a religious text I have to memorise. I have to work on you and I have as long as I wish, but in the end you must tell me all for only then will you be released. Either at the end of a rope or through the main gate."

"What do I have to do be released alive," I asked trying to appear nonchalant but inside I was terrified.

"I have no intention of telling you, even if I release you you will never know why. In fact the final decision maybe based on the toss of a coin or perhaps you fate is already sealed to be led from this tower and hanged once I have no further use for you. You have no way of knowing no way of finding out. Trying to inveigle me in one direction is as equally likely to seal your doom. For if I suspect for one second that you are trying to influence me by baring false witness, pretending to repent." She paused, "well that will be a challenge. You may be here a day, a month, a year or a lifetime that is for me to determine."

"Will you torture me," I asked.

"Perhaps, but rending and tearing flesh has no interest for me. It seems so crude, petty and unimaginative. No I wish to have you reveal all to me out of a desperation to please.

"I should never have put the chains on."

"But you did, such was the price of life. A price you paid voluntarily, no-one forced this."

"Die or be chained, is not much of a choice."

She smiled slightly looking at me. Then the truth finally hit me, finally the enormity of my situation fell onto my shoulders which sagged in defeat creating a mocking clink of chain. I had no life except that which she provided. I could not escape, would not escape I had nothing except her.

She read my defeat perfectly saying, "good, very good. Now you begin to understand and we can start our long journey together."

The Tower still stands by the walls of the castle. Grim and foreboding its roof is now nothing but a memory. Travellers have spoken of its uses in ages past, but such are considered nothing but tales now.