An uncomfortable chair
“Well, it has been nice chatting, but we need to get dressed,” the Queen said.
“Dressed?” Hadassah looked down at her dress.
“For Court, Dear. Didn’t Seth tell you? We always hold Court at four in the afternoon, and the people will be particularly anxious to see you. Don’t worry, I’m sure your Maid will have something picked out already, they know all of the routine. Just run along off to your room, and I will see you in a few minutes in the throne room.”
Hadassah ‘ran along’, her mind racing. Court? Her? Today? She hadn’t even dreamed of such a thing. She knew that Kings held court, of course, but had never thought that that might mean that she would have to go.
She ran into the room, and almost bumped into Seth. “Hey, Love,” he said, kissing her as she frantically tried to get her dress off. “What’s the rush?”
he asked, watching her and grinning.
“We, we have Court,” she gasped out.
“Of course,” he said, adjusting his shirt. “But you don’t have to panic.
It’s not like they are coming to see us.”
“Your mother said they were, that they were coming to see me.”
Seth paused and looked at her, “What? Oh. Oh, I suppose that is true.
But it doesn’t mean we have to be early. Dinda, where is my sketch book?” he asked the Maid who was frantically trying to tie Hadassah’s dress down.
“On your dresser, your Highness,” she said.
“Sketch book?” Hadassah asked. “You sketch people for the King?”
“Ha, no! I sketch people, and other things, to avoid being bored out of my skull. You should bring some sewing or something. I warn you, it is incredibly boring at Court.”
“Boring? With all of these people coming with their cases?”
“Well, my love, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Seth said. “Are you ready?”
She wasn’t, just dressed.
Seth led her down several hallways, and then up to a curtain, where a guard stood. The guard nodded at Seth, and pulled back the curtain, waving her in. She walked through, and almost stopped. She needed all of her training to turn her pause into what she hoped looked like her just moving aside for her Husband to come through the door.
As Seth came through the door behind her and took her arm she tried her best not to stare at the crowd, as they tried to pretend they weren’t staring at her. Seth seemed to ignore them, and walked past her and around the 61 chairs, the thrones, in front of them. She followed him, and he plumped himself down in the second throne, waving her to the first one.
She sat down, her heart pounding, and was again faced with the need to face the crowd. To face the eyes of the entire crowd, except for the one man who was still facing the King and droning on about his problem, and what he wanted the King to do about it. (Which Hadassah tried very hard to understand.) It had something to do with docking rights, she understood that well enough, but exactly what, she was at a loss to understand.
And anyway, he was almost done when they arrived. With a few final sentences, he finished, bowed, and backed away. Hadassah watched as several other men, King’s advisers she was sure, came up and whispered in the King’s ear.
“Thank you, my good man,” the King said, “We will have our judgment for you on Friday.”
“Thank you, your Highness,” the man said, and he and three other men walked out together. Or, at the same time, anyway, they didn’t seem very ‘together’; probably the opposite sides of whatever dispute was going on.
The second person to come forward was a little old lady. "Your Highness, I want you to judge between me and my Son."
"Your Son, my good Woman?" the King said, looking around the room.
"He wouldn't come," she said. "He said I was foolish. A foolish old woman, he called me. Now, your Highness, is that anyway for a lad to talk about his Mother?"
"No, my good woman, it isn't. What is the name of your Son, that I may have him scourged?"
"Scourged? I don't want him to be scourged. I want him to come to dinner."
"Dinner?" the King said, as the audience laughed.
"Dinner, on Friday nights. He wants to do dinner at his house. His house, with his wife and my grandchildren."
The Queen leaned forward, "And how many Grandchildren do you have, my good Woman?"
"Seven," the Woman responded, "and wonderful Grandchildren they are, don’t get me wrong. But what is wrong with my house? Didn't I feed him all those years, and him my only Son, too? The Daughters, I understand, I go to their house, of course, on the other nights. But my Son, I want him to come to my house."
Suddenly the crowd stilled, and Hadassah turned to look at the King.
His face was very serious.
"My good Woman, you present to me a very difficult case. A Son owes honor to his Mother but, at the same time he is your oldest Son, and you owe him obedience. And besides, he is not even here. I tell you what, perhaps we should discuss this at dinner. Seth?"
Hadassah’s Husband, startled, jumped in his seat and dropped his sketch book on the floor. "Father?!" No one laughed, but Hadassah could see it on all of their faces; except for the King. "My Son," he said, "if you would accompany this good Woman to her Son's house, and invite him to dinner."
"Certainly, certainly Father," he said and, handing his sketch book to a servant standing nearby, reached out his hand for Hadassah. She rose, slightly startled, and took his hand.
When they reached the hallway, following the old lady and a guard, he found the privacy to lean over and whisper in her ear, "Why are we inviting the Son to dinner?"
"Weren't you listening?" Hadassah whispered back.
"Listening? Are you kidding? Oh, well, tell me later.”
Mgwan, feeling very nervous, rode up to the castle gate. His visit to his Father’s bower had emphasized the differences between his new position and his upbringing. His Mother and Sisters had been overjoyed to see him, and had listened, fascinated, to all he had told them. His Father had been concerned, when he had first arrived, thinking that Seth had been displeased with Mgwan’s work.
And, staring at the gate, Mgwan couldn’t help wondering if his Father had been correct. Did Seth really like his work? Or did he just keep him around out of loyalty?
He realized that the Guards were waiting for him to say something, “I, um, I’m Mgwan.” They just stared at him, so he said, “I am with the Prince.”
At that one of the Guards let out a shout, and a young lad came running up. “Go tell Prince Seth that there is a Sjefen named Mgwan here to see him.”
The lad went running off, and Mgwan waited, nervously; and the Guards watched him, impassively. He couldn’t bear to look at them, so he looked past them into the courtyard. People were scurrying to and fro.
Farmers, mostly, but Mgwan noticed half a dozen Dwarves, two Heroiini (young males) and, watching him from a doorway, another Sjefen. They stared at each other, but Mgwan didn’t recognize him. He was a purple Sjefen from the other delta.
Mgwan had just begun to fanaticize about what life would be like in the other delta when he saw the lad come pelting across the courtyard. “Says up − library − party…” the lad panted out. The Guards straightened up, moved their pikes out of the way, and the one said, “Sir.”
Mgwan followed the Lad into the courtyard. A Stablelad, who had been watching him, hurried forward and took the reins of his horse. Mgwan got painfully down (Sjefen are NOT made for riding) and hobbled off after the runner; who led him up a long flight of stairs, down a corridor, and stopped at a doorway, waving him in.
Mgwan nervously approached the doorway. Inside he saw Seth, surrounded by a crowd of Farmerlads who looked, by their dress, to be noble.
He moved just inside the doorway, and stood quietly, trying to be unobtrusive.
“Well, we should certainly be able to have some fun while I am here,”
Seth was saying. “But it will probably be my last time in the capital city for some time − Mgwan!” he said, catching site of him by the door and coming over and shaking his hand. “It is good you are here. I am having a party with my friends tonight.”
“Gentlemen, this is Mgwan, my personal Chef. Mgwan, there will be about twenty of us tonight − oh, and Hadassah will be having a party for her friends as well. You, there, lad, take Mgwan down to the kitchens. Tell them he is my particular Chef. It is good to see you, Mgwan,” Seth finished, turning back to his friends.
Mgwan hurried off. Here was an opportunity to show that he could do his job. He followed the lad painfully and, after a long journey to another part of the castle, they arrived at a kitchen. Mgwan stopped, and looked around in surprise. It was a large enough kitchen, but hardly seemed large enough for the entire castle. He suddenly noticed that the runner was looking at him from halfway across the room, so he followed him.
At the far end of the kitchen was another door, and the runner led him into it. A harassed looking man looked up from a desk. “Excuse me,” the runner said, “but this Sjefen was sent by the Prince, as his Personal Cook.”
“Oh, how marvelous!” the man exclaimed, leaping up. “A Sjefen! I had heard he picked one up on his travels, but didn’t know when you were coming, or if you would be willing to help in our little kitchen. And tonight is an excellent night, as we are supposed to prepare for two parties. Usually we just cook for the Prince, you know, but tonight, all those people!”
“Oh, so this kitchen…”
“…Is for the Prince. Of course, we help with the whole meal, but we get to prepare for the Prince, and now the Princess as well. Before they died, we prepared for all of the children, of course. Oh, we were so upset when the other Princelings all died, so upset.”
“Come, let me show you around, and tell you what we had planned.
But of course, you can do whatever you want.”
(Just to be clear, this is NOT what Mgwan looks like. The kitchen isn’t even right :) )
Mgwan gulped as the man led him around. And then he gulped again at some of the things they mentioned. But he didn’t think he could just change everything! “I − why don’t you continue with your plans…” he started, and then remembered. This was his first real test, the first time he could really show Seth what he could do. “No,” he said. “Here is what we are going to do…”
Two hours later he was still barking out orders, “No, no, that cream will never do. It is already slightly spoiled. Get me some fresh. Here, let me taste that. Good, almost, just a bit more Bitter Root.”
He stopped, took a breath, and a lad came running down, “Prince asks if Mgwan is ready. Say’s guests are hungry!”
“OK, where are the servers? You there, take up that tray first. Tell Seth that I say that they aren’t to eat too much of this, no matter if it is his favorite, that there is a lot more to come. Now, let us look at the roast, I think it is ready to carve…”
--
(Nor is this. but the kitchen is a bit better.)
It was midnight, and Mgwan was exhausted. He stood in the kitchen, surveying everything. It was spotless. He had insisted on it, and his crew had stayed late to clean. “Well, thank you,” he said, and saw their grins. “Now, let us to bed, we will have breakfast to make early in the morning. Can someone show me my room?”
A small lad came forward, “I’ll show you, Sir, come with me,” he said, and hurried off, Mgwan trying to keep up with him. They soon came to a large door, and the lad knocked at it. Another lad came to the door, “Gentleman wants his room,” the kitchen lad said, and left.
“Oh, good, we’ve been waiting for you,” the other lad said, and, led him off up three flights of stairs. “Prince’s guest’s rooms,” he said, and opened a door. “Here is the key,” he said, handing Mgwan something while Mgwan stared around. This wasn’t a room, it was a suite. And there were two lasses inside, curtseying.
He stood tongue-tied and awkward, and eventually the lasses straightened up. “If you please, Sir,” the one said, “I have your bath almost ready, right over here.”
She led him to a corner of the room, where there was a changing screen and a tub. Then she hurried off to the fire and pulled off a pot, “I’ve been keeping it warm these last two hours, not knowing when you would be done and all. I hear you did just wonderfully. The other Lasses were telling me that their guests were all saying as how it was a great meal.”
“Well, thank you,” said Mgwan and, she having emptied her load and going around the screen, leaving him alone, he began to undress. “My team worked hard.”
“Sir,” came the voice of the other Maid from behind the screen, “what would you be wanting to wear to bed? A night shirt, or sleep trousers?”
Mgwan didn’t usually wear anything to bed. Not at home, anyway, but on this trip he had typically worn his shirt, “A night shirt, if you please,” he said, and seconds later three shirts were flipped over the screen.
“I don’t know which pleases you, Sir,” the Maid said. “Just pick, when you are ready, and I will put the other ones back.
“Thank you,” Mgwan said. He lay in the bath, soaking, and almost falling asleep. He knew he needed to get to bed, however, and looked around.
“Where is a towel?” he muttered to himself.
“Sir?” came the first Maid’s voice, “What did you say?”
“I was just looking for a towel,” he said, “or do I dry in front of the fire?”
“Oh, well, you can if you wish, Sir,” the Maid said, “we could just move a screen there. But I have hot towels for you, Sir, if you wish.”
“Hot towels?” Mgwan said, and suddenly saw two large towels appear over the edge of the screen, close to his bath. He reached out and took one. It was hot! He stepped out onto the mat and luxuriated in the warmth. Reluctantly he finished drying, with the second towel, and threw the nightshirt over his head. He stepped out, and saw the two Maids still standing there, staring at him.
“Are you ready for bed now, Sir? Or would you like something to drink first?”
“Oh, I think I need to get to bed,” he said, and the lasses both moved off into the next room. He followed them and saw one Maid pulling a blanket back from the head of a large bed, and another going over to the fire, where she pulled out a large metal basket and started scooping coals into it. Mgwan walked wonderingly over to the bed and crawled in, startling as the Maid covered him up. Then he watched the other Maid bring the metal basket over and put it under his bed.
“There, that should keep you warm for several hours. I will renew it later. What time would you like to get up, Sir?”
“I have work to do in the morning, I think I will get up at five,” Mgwan said.
“Very well, Sir,” the second Maid said, curtseying, “we will wake you then.”
“Wake me?”
“Yes Sir, right at five, as you asked.”
The two lasses wandered through the room, and blew out the candles, then drew the curtains around his bed and left the room. He shook his head, and put it down on the pillow. He tried to pray but was asleep within seconds.
--
“Sir, Sir?” A voice was saying, “Sir, it is five o’clock.”
Mgwan opened his eyes. One of the Maids was standing there, shaking him gently, and the other was wandering around lighting candles.
“What?” he said, stupidly.
“It is five o’clock, Sir. We have a bath ready, and some hot chocolate cooking. We didn’t know if you liked hot chocolate, but we can do something else if you like.”
A bath? Now? Mgwan pulled himself sleepily out of bed and went to the next room where there was a roaring fire and, behind the screen, there was a bath. He put his hand in it. It was blazingly hot. He stripped off the night shirt and climbed gingerly in. It was painfully hot, and felt wonderful after the cold night. But he didn’t have much time… “Towels, please,” he said, and heard scurrying feet and the towels flipped up.
“Sir,” said a voice from the other side of the curtain, “Sir we don’t have any of your kind of clothes in your size, Sir, so we took the liberty of getting you 67 some other clothes, more of our kind. But I don’t know which ones you would like, Sir.”
Mgwan pulled a towel around him, and walked around the curtain, causing the lasses to look startled, then relieved. “If you wish, Sir, any of these…” the one Maid said, pointing to the couch. Mgwan looked, and there was indeed a variety; from noble clothes to… “I’ll take these,” he said, pointing at clothes that seemed similar to those he had seen the kitchen boss wear, yesterday.
“Yes, Sir,” the Maid said, and flipped them over the curtain.
“I, I want to thank you,” he said from behind the curtain as he dressed.
“You two have been wonderful. Did you get any sleep, last night?”
“Oh, Sir, yes Sir,” the Bathlass said, “and yesterday afternoon. We are careful Sir, to get sleep when we can, at least one of us. We asked a Kitchenlad, and he gave us an idea of when you would come, so we both slept just fine, Sir.”
“Well, good,” he said, coming out, “now, where is that hot chocolate?”
Thank you for reading Von’s Substack. I would love it if you commented! I love hearing from readers, especially critical comments. I would love to start more letter exchanges, so if there’s a subject you’re interested in, get writing and tag me!
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Thanks again, God Bless, Soli Deo gloria,
Von
Links
Island People
Island People is a young adult fantasy book centring on a young prince. The book starts with his kidnapping and follows his adventures as he not only escapes from his kidnapper but gains critical allies and friends.
The entire book is scheduled on Substack, and there are several sequels. This is a book I wrote years ago, so it is in a bit of a rough form. Critiques and comments are more than welcome, they are requested.