Mary's Path

As winter came along the food shortage was starting to get noticeable, starvation was a fact in the city. The sickness also kept spreading in the city. For the first time some of the more affluent households became ill.

Never had the sickness come so close to the heart of the city. Panic spread through the castle. There was talk of isolating the castle. The castellan had his work cut out for him and was kept busy, and so was Zerden. The panic needed to be contained and an outright rebellion to be avoided at all costs.

There were rumors that the king had sent word to the Lady and in desperation had invited her. Mary felt her heart flutter the first time she heard the rumors. Would the Lady come? But soon her joy had passed when she realized that the Lady probably wouldn’t remember her.

Even if she and Kopa came to the castle, Mary probably wouldn’t meet them. Still, it felt nice to know that maybe, if Mary was lucky, she could at least get to see them from a distance. Just knowing that the Lady would be in the castle would be nice.

Winter slowly gave way to spring. In the kitchen everyone was busy as always after one of the prince’s hunts. Now days the hunts weren’t just for fun. They provided an important source of meat.

Mary stood and cut thin strips of meat, her hands moved on their own at the familiar task. Her thoughts were focused on Mrs. Meata. She would be coming this afternoon to hand out the wages and do the inspection of the rooms.

Mary went through her little room in her mind. A mental checklist was running through her head. She had made the bed, put away her clothes? The chest was locked, she was sure of that.

But the uneasiness didn’t go away. Mrs. Meata always found something wrong, and every time Mary was just as afraid that she would end up on the street.

Time seemed to go by way too fast. Soon the work was halted, and they gathered in front of the table where the notary and Mrs. Meata had taken their place. Each received their wages.

When it was Mary’s turn she quickly walked up to the table, said her thank you and curtsied when Mrs. Beata handed out the coins. Then she stood among the others again and let her breath out. When everyone got their payment, they return to work. It was now the inspection of all the rooms would start.

"Mary come here!” the order came as a whip lash in the air. Mary looked up and saw Mrs. Meata standing, looking at her, at the other end of the kitchen. Mary hurried to make her way to her.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you steal anything?” asks Mrs. Meata coldly.

“No, ma’am,” Mary replied with a disheartened look.

“So why is your coffin locked every time I inspect your room?”

“It’s locked because everything I own is in there” Mary replied, it was the same thing every time, she thought.

“Are you talking back to me?”

“No, ma’am, I have the utmost respect for you,” Mary said desperately.[1]

The slap came without warning and Mary heard the sound of the palm hitting her cheek before she felt the heat running over her face and then being replaced by pain.

Instinctively, she brought up on her own hand to the cheek where Mrs. Meata had hit her. She felt something run down her lip and when she put her finger to it, she realized that her lip had cracked.

All the work in the kitchen had stopped when the slap had echoed, and everyone’s eyes were on Mary and Mrs. Meata.

“What’s going on?” Mrs. Karrot’s voice sounded hard in the ghostly quiet kitchen. She showed up by Mary’s side and looked between Mary and Mrs. Beata. With a firm hand, she lifted Mary’s chin to study her cheek and lip before turning to Mrs. Meata.

“By what right do you lay hand on my staff?” she asked darkly.

“She was talking back to me” Mrs. Beata replied indignantly.

“I doubt that Mary has never shown such tendencies in all the years she has worked here. Quite the opposite in fact” Mrs. Karrots said.

“She refused to give a straight answer as to why her chest is locked” Mrs. Meata almost shouted.

“My dear friend, I believe that you and I have talked about this before. If a theft has been committed, Mary will open her trunk to prove her innocence. Until then, it remains locked for us,” Mrs. Karrots said, and there was an unusual sharpness in her voice.

“I’m assuming that means the inspection is complete. Do you have more complaints, or can we get back to work?” she concluded. Mrs. Meata did not answer, just turned around and stepped out of the kitchen. Mrs. Karrots turned to Mary.

“Take a wet cloth and put it on your cheek. Come back in an hour.” Mary nodded and with cheeks that flared with both hurt and humiliation, she quickly went through the kitchen and retrieved a cloth before going out to the well.

It was a beautiful spring day, so she sat down and leaned her back against the castle wall while pressing the wet and cold cloth against her cheek and bathing her lip lightly with one of the corners, it had almost stopped bleeding.

What should she do? Mrs. Meata would sooner or later make sure she was allowed to leave the castle, Mary was sure of it. Should she try to find a place to cook outside the castle?

Her heart constricted when she thought of Zerden. If she left the castle, she’d probably never see him again, he had no time for her as it was. Everything revolves around lady Sarah for him. That thought almost broke her heart.

As if he had been called there by her thoughts, she heard him calling her name. She looked up and saw him walking into the small courtyard.

He seemed to have come from guard duty, a little tired but with a big smile on his face. The smile was exchanged for an unspoken question when he saw the cloth.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked.

“Nothing special, enjoying the nice weather,” she said a little evasively.

“Since when does Mrs. Karrots allow you to enjoy the weather? Why are you holding a cloth to your face?” Mary saw no way other way out of it, she lowered the cloth and turned her cheek toward him for him to see.

His face darkened and he went up and squatted in front of her to study the mark and wound on her lip carefully. Then he took her hand, which was still holding the cloth, and brought it up to her cheek. He looked her straight in the eye when he asked the question.

“Who did it?”

Mary’s face scrunched up a bit.

“It’s okay, it’s soon forgotten,” she said.

“Mary, who?” She heard in his tone that he would not let go of the subject.

“Mrs. Meata,” she replied with a sigh. Zerden swore quietly between clenched teeth.

“I’ll talk to my dad,” he said.

“No, don’t do that,” Mary protested. “She dislikes me enough as it is. It would only get worse if she thought I’d sent the castellan after her.” Zerden slowly shook his head.

“You’re the one who gets to decide Mary, but I don’t like it.” Mary tried to smile at him to show that she was okay. But the cracked lip hurt and the cloth that almost covered half of her face made it difficult.

“Help me up, please,” she said, reaching out her hand to him. He got up and then dragged her to her feet.

“Thank you, sir. I better go back, and you need to go to rest. I guess you’ll have guard duty again soon” she said. He nodded.

“I don’t have much free time these days. I was going to hear if Sarah wanted to meet me in the gardens tomorrow, could you come with me?” he asked. It felt like another piece of Mary’s heart was torn out.

“Maybe,” she said. “If I can get away.”

He nodded and said goodbye before turning around and going home to sleep for the hours he could. Mary returned to the kitchen and happily dealt with the rest of the meat. Happy to have something to focus on.