Oubliette

“Girl, you have disappointed me.”

She hung her head, naked but for the chains joining her wrists and ankles, surrounded by his retainers. And the other women of the court.

She knew he would have to make an example of her. She expected only death, knowing this would also be expected by those surrounding her. In fact, many of the women would be secretly hoping that would be the outcome; as his favourite, she stood between them and his patronage,

And that favour was also what stood between her and death. Would it be enough? A girl of lower stature would have been dispatched for her crime without further ceremony.

The Great Hall was silent while he appraised her. She had said her piece, given her reasons, her pleas in mitigation, and been abjectly apologetic. She knew his mind was already made up, all that remained was for him to act on that decision.

He raised a hand as a signal to the executioner. She sighed; the punishment was about to begin.

A rope dropped from the rafters. She expected she would be suspended from it and whipped. Instead, a wooden rod was tied to the rope, and she was instructed to hold onto it. The free end of the rope was passed around the chain joining her wrists and tied in a long loop well above the rod.

Another signal was given, and the rope pulled upward. She realised that she would have to hold onto the rod, for if she didn’t the rope would lift her by her chains, and that would be painful.

The pulling stopped with her arms held high. The executioner and an assistant took wooden staffs and used them to lift a heavy flagstone from the floor and lever it aside.

Beneath the stone was shaft. The rope pulled again, and she found herself teetering at the edge of the hole.

Finally, he spoke.

“I am torn with what to do with you,” he said. “All these people,” he gestured around him, “expect me to put you to death. Your transgression was minor, but you transgressed against me, and I am not expected to forgive.”

“On the other hand, if I kill you now, I may yet regret dispatching one whose virtues far outweigh her faults. So I have decided to do the next best thing. Below you is an oubliette. A place of forgetting.”

She looked down the hole in horror.

“Down there, you will have ceased to exist. If I find myself longing for you, I may release you, and you may again take your rightful place. So you had better hope that you were so good to me, that I can not forget.”

She stared at him, pleading with her eyes, knowing that her looks, and his memories of her were her only remaining chance. Then she pulled herself together, raised her head and smiled at him. Bowing her head slightly in obsequiousness, she spoke.

“As your Lordship pleases.”

She put her weight on the wooden rod, and stepped into the abyss.

Slowly, she was lowered into the pit, holding her regal pose and radiant smile until her head dropped below the floor. Occasionally, she bumped against the rough stone walls. Knowing how the castle was laid out, she realised she must be passing through the basements below the Great Hall. She estimated that the actual oubliette must be below the basement level. The shaft to it must therefore just be built into the basement walls.

Soon she felt herself passing through a narrower, opening. It was smooth, round and tapered.

Down she went. Past the narrowing, her feet struck an iron grille, and she was no longer hanging. Soon, she felt the end of the rope drop down on top of her, then be pulled up. She had let go of the rod as soon as her feet flattened on the iron floor, and now it was being pulled away from her. She could never climb out on her own.

She stared into the light above her. Suddenly, a round shape appeared overhead. As it was lowered into the hole, it thinned the circle of light surrounding it. All too quickly, there was a loud scraping sound as the heavy stone plug settled into the conical opening above her like a stopper in a bottle, plunging her world into absolute darkness, She knew that in the Great Hall, they would now be fitting the flagstone back over the shaft, but the heavy plug now sealed her off from any part of that world.

The shaft descended below her position; she knew not how far. It was a mixed blessing. It meant any excretions would fall below her, but it would be uncomfortable. Crouching down to explore further, she realised with horror that the oubliette was small. She could stand up, but she could touch both sides of the hole with her elbows, her wrists still chained in close proximity.

She flopped against the side of the shaft. Finally losing the regal composure she had maintained throughout the ordeal, she broke down and cried.

Initially, she cried about her position, stuck in a hole in the ground, with only the faintest hope of rescue. Right now, her bitterest enemies were plotting against her, and there was nothing she could do. The weapons would not be of iron, but they would strike as deep. There would be hints that she was not all that he remembered; not outright accusations, but more subtle barbs.

But these weapons would only be brought to bear if her name was mentioned. Otherwise, they would try to avoid any trigger that might make him think of her, and distract him with sweet words and feigned loyalty.

The oubliette was, by definition, for being forgotten about.

After a while, she cried about being so stupid as to get herself into this position. She had gone against her better instincts, and beyond the boundaries of what was strictly proper, to help someone she thought to be in need. In so doing, she had allowed herself to be played. It was her own fault; she had walked into the trap willingly, and it had ensnared her.

Finally, she cried herself to sleep.

She woke up suddenly, finding herself uncomfortable, and … wet. She was drenched. She cursed loudly, as if there was anyone to hear. Standing up to explore her surroundings, she quickly found a hole in the wall. It was the bottom of a shaft that sloped upward, away from the vertical shaft she had entered by. It was wide enough to put both hands into, and just below where it entered was a hollow, with water pooled in it. She realised that this was her drinking water, and a regular dousing would keep her clean and wash away any excretions.

So as long as they poured a bucket of water onto her once a day, she would probably not die of thirst. As she was contemplating what else she might die of, something tumbled out of the shaft.

It was a small loaf of bread. So she wouldn’t starve, either. Realising that the arrival of the bread meant that someone must have tossed it to her, she put her head up to the hole, hoping that there might be some sign of life. She shouted, “hello!” into the hole, but there was no reply. However, she did notice a very slight breeze.

So she wouldn’t suffocate, either. She had no idea if she was being kept alive officially, nor for how long it would last. His rage had been known to last for months before subsiding, but surely at some point he must either haul her out, or stop feeding and watering her. Either way, her ordeal had limits.

All she could, and had to do now, was wait and try to maintain her sanity in the absolute darkness and silence.

And hope that his fondness for her would outlast his anger.

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