Into the Kitchen
Mgwan walked into the kitchen; Sjefen though he was, and thus socially clueless, he felt the palpable tension. Seth had been gone with Hadassah for almost two weeks now, and the servants were getting ugly.
Embarrassed by their Lord’s defeat; knowing nothing of, and caring nothing for, Seth or his plans, the servants were finding the marriage and honeymoon of Hadassah difficult. Everyone respected Duke LaCrosse, but they loved Hadassah and the other children. They had NOT been pleased to find out, from the Maid and Groom, what Seth’s idea of a honeymoon was.
//Have the supplies come?// he asked the Sjefen in charge.
//What you asked for is where we are,// that other said, noncommittally. He and Mgwan had a difficult relationship; not quite Sjefen and definitely not Farmer. Mgwan had no Wife, either, to advise him.
//Food will be needed in two days,// Mgwan said. //Food for those who are under obligation and their mates to be.// Sjefen didn’t have a word for ‘Hostages’.
The Sjefen said nothing more, but walked him to the pantry. Mgwan looked in. There were sacks and sacks of flour, spices, etc. //The meat?// he asked.
The Sjefen walked him down into a cold cellar. //Is this all?// Mgwan said, appalled. The meat hanging in the cellar, might last this group a week under normal conditions, but these would be transforming and would eat constantly. The Sjefen shrugged.
//It was all there was at the market// the Sjefen said, and Mgwan realized that this was his way of objecting to Seth, Mgwan, and the rest.
But what was he to do? Seth was counting on him, Mgwan, to have food for the Hostages’ transformations! He looked around. All of the others, the Plowwives and younger servants, were looking away. A couple of the lads were grinning.
Mgwan left the kitchen. No one here would be helping him. He could ask Tristan or Wynforr. Perhaps they would have an idea. He stopped. No.
This was his obligation. The Hostages needed food. Horseman food, except that Horseman didn’t eat except for an occasional feast of… He hurried off, off to the Chamberlain’s office, bursting in on that worthy and one of his lads. “I need money, Horsemen rings,” Mgwan said.
The Chamberlain nodded. Mgwan was with Seth’s party and as such could no doubt request money as needed; as long as the books were in order for the Prince when he returned. “Steel?” he asked, opening the door behind him with a large key.
“Steel, silver and gold,” Mgwan answered.
The Chamberlain’s eyes widened, “Gold?” he repeated. “You will have to sign…”
“That’s fine,” Mgwan replied, impatiently. “Forty steel, four silver, and four gold. Let me sign, and this one can bring it to the stables.”
The Chamberlain turned the key again and walked to his desk, where he made out a receipt. Mgwan signed; then stomped out. He hurried down to the stables. Two lads were wrestling in front of the door. “You, you there!”
Mgwan said. The lads straightened up, bowing to him. “I need a horse, no, two horses.” He thought for a minute and then said, “No, three horses saddled up, right away.”
“Yes, Sir,” the lads responded and scampered off.
The Stablelads had brought out one horse and gone back for a second when the Chamberlain’s Son came up to Mgwan and held out a sack. “The funds you requisitioned, Sir,” he said.
“Hold on to it,” Mgwan said.
“Sir?” the lad asked.
“Hold on to it. Stand here and hold it. Or tie it onto your belt.”
“I − yes, Sir,” the lad said looking askance at the sack; and then tying it to his belt.
Mgwan watched him, and then said, as the lads brought out another horse, “Here, mount!”
“Sir?” the lad said.
“Is that how you obey orders, Lad?” Mgwan asked.
“Sir? No, Sir!” The lad said and clambered awkwardly onto the horse, which one of the Stablelads, grinning, held for him.
Mgwan climbed up onto the other and then, when the third horse was brought up waved his hand to the still-grinning Stablelad, “Mount up”, he said.
The lad’s eyes widened, but he mounted rapidly. “Good. Now come,”
Mgwan said and led them off.
“I have to teach you something,” Mgwan said, and whistled. The lads looked at him.
“You try,” he said to the Stablelad.
The lad opened his mouth, and Mgwan could see, ‘Sir?’ forming on his lips when he stopped, grinned, and pursed his lips. Mgwan listened, his head to one side.
“Not bad,” Mgwan said, and repeated the whistle. “You try,” he said to the Chamberlad.
Slow on the uptake, he was a good whistler. “Excellent,” Mgwan said.
Turning back to the Stablelad he said, “Now, you again.”
When the lads had their whistles down, Mgwan said, “Good, now here is what we are going to do…”
Three hours later Mgwan was riding, alone. He hoped the boys were doing better than he was. He hadn’t seen a single Horseman the entire time, not even a Horseboy. Suddenly, he saw disappearing over a hill, a lone rider.
He galloped over hoping and finding, that the rider was the outskirts of a herd.
Or rather, was a young male riding outskirts to a herd.
Mgwan rode up to the herd and whistled. All eyes had been following and at his whistle a Horseboy rode up, eyeing him curiously. “I have three Sisters who have breasts,” the Horseboy began in Farmer. Mgwan held up his hand.
“I am not here for that.” He opened his purse and poured rings out into his hand. The Horseboy’s eyes widened at the silver and gold rings. Mgwan handed him a steel ring. “I have need of meat, much meat, from the Beasts that you hunt; all this week and next. I will pay well, very well.” As Mgwan finished telling the boy of his proposal he jingled the rings back and forth and the Horseboy, after a pause said, “I will tell my Father,” and galloped back to his herd.
As soon as he had left the young male Horseman came up to him, “I hadn’t expected competition from a Sjefen!” he said, laughing. “Are you all stealing our Horsegirls, now?”
“No, but I might be able to help you get one,” Mgwan said, pulling out a silver ring. ”I need meat, lots of it; delivered to the Duke’s residence over the next two weeks.”
They rode in silence, the Horseboy’s eyes flickering back and forth from the ring to the herd. Finally he reached out and took the ring from Mgwan. “I’ll arrange it,” he said.
Mgwan rode away chuckling. He was sure the Horseboy would arrange more than that! It was well past dark when he rode into the stable yard. The two lads were standing, waiting for him. “Well?” he said, as he dismounted his horse.
“We each found one herd,” the Chamberlain’s Son said.
“Good,” Mgwan responded. “I found two, but I was lucky. After collecting the boys remaining rings, he handed each lad a steel ring. The Chamberlain’s Son hurried off, but Mgwan waited as the Stablelad put the horses away. “I have another job for you,” Mgwan said, “you and your buddies here.”
“Yes, Sir?”
“Tomorrow I’m going to send some Kitchenlads out to see you. I want you to beat them up.”
The Stablelad looked at Mgwan, his head cocked over to one side, “Beat them up?”
“Yes. I will send them out to you, and tell them to say they are from me. And I want you to bruise them nicely, you and your Brothers.”
“Yes, Sir,” the Stablelad said, grinning and Mgwan felt his eyes on him as he walked back to the castle, exhausted and sore. He knew a great salve for raw skin, and he was going to need it! He walked painfully into the kitchen the next morning, all eyes upon him. He limped over to a stool and sat down. Looking over at the line of lads by the stove, he picked one, a large lad, and one whose grin was particularly obnoxious.
“You, there,” he said.
“Yes, Sir?” the lad said, coming up and bowing his head.
“Go out to the stables,” Mgwan said. “Tell the lads there I sent you.”
“Yes− yes Sir!” the lad said, hurrying off, his face a study in confusion.
Mgwan waved to the Sjefen who came over. “I’ve arranged for more meat,” he said. “Horsemen will be bringing it. You will need to prepare for it.”
“Do you know when it will arrive?” the man asked, looking concerned.
“No. Two lads and I went out yesterday and found some herds to hunt for us. We don’t know when or how much.”
“But how can I prepare if I don’t know when it is coming, or how much?”
“That does make it harder,” Mgwan said, nodding. “It would have been easier if the market had had all the meat we had needed.”
The Sjefen turned away, calling over three of the lasses and giving them instructions, things to prepare in the meat locker. He was in fine flow when the door opened and the large lad came back in.
He wasn’t crying, but his face made it clear that he had been. It also made it clear what had happened, with bruising around the eyes and blood still dripping from his nose. He walked stiffly back to his place at the fire, grabbing a spit, conscious of all eyes upon him.
They hadn’t long to meditate on his bruises, however, for as soon as he was seated Mgwan pointed to another lad, a younger one, and one that had had a particularly rebellious grin yesterday, “You, there, go and tell the lads at the stables I sent you.”
The lad froze for a second, but, forced to choose between a beating and outright rebellion, the penalty for which would, no doubt, be even worse; he hurried out of the room. Mgwan faced the silence and the eyes impassively, continuing his ‘conversation’ with the Sjefen, “So, you will need to prepare for that, and you will need to be prepared to serve them. They will not be eating at meals, as you are used to. You will need to have food out for them at all hours, day and night, and servers watching to see when they need more. These servers may not speak to the people they are serving. Not a word must be said, unless the servers can speak Horseman, which I doubt. Perhaps I can teach some of them. You, there, lass, come here.”
One of the women chopping vegetables made to say something, but stopped herself as the words were ready to leave her mouth. The lass concerned, pale faced, came over to Mgwan.
“You will help serve, I think. So you should know some Kelii, the Horseman language. Let me see, what phrases will be useful? Basic politeness first. How about, ‘Yes, Miss.’ In Kelii you say that //Yes, Miss//, repeat that now.”
The lass curtsied, and said, //Yeh, Mss//.
“Well, not bad. Try again,” //Yes, Miss//.
The room had almost returned to normal, and the lass had learned to say //Yes, Sir,// as well, when the second lad returned, frankly crying, and holding his side.
“Ah, good.” Mgwan said, then pointed at another lad, “You, there, your turn.” As he turned back to the lass, the Sjefen was at his side.
“Sir…” he said, pleading in his voice.
“Yes?” Mgwan asked, as the two watched the lad leave, reluctantly, with many backwards looks.
“Sir…?”
Mgwan let the silence hang for a minute, and then he said, in Sjefen //Is there anything you need?//
//Yes, yes there is,// the Sjefen said. //I, and those who stand with me, we need to be forgiven.//
//Very well, then, you are forgiven.// Mgwan said, staring at the man, who then said, reluctantly, //And is there anything you need?//
//Yes,// Mgwan said, //there is. My master has asked me to have food ready for those under obligation. Much food. Food as close to that which Horsemen eat as we can manage. I was wondering if you and those who stand with you could help me with that?//
The Sjefen bowed, and said, “We would be pleased to serve you in that way.”
“Good,” Mgwan said. Then he turned to a lad by the fire, “Go and tell the Stablelads that they can go back to work. I would be careful, if I were you.”
That lad darted off and Mgwan turned to the three lads by the fire that he had not sent off so far, “You three there. Go off to Tristan, that is the Fashgen, the Elflad, and tell him that, if he pleases, I would appreciate it if he would teach you some Kelii, enough to serve our guests. Oh,” he said, as the lads got up to go, “and tell him if one of you does not learn he is to thrash you and send for another lad to take your place.”
The lads nodded their heads, and Mgwan turned back to the room, “The lass’s room will need servers around the clock, so I should teach a couple more lasses as well. You and you.”
“We will continue our lessons out in the courtyard, Sir,” Mgwan said to the Sjefen, “and leave you to your preparations.”
He walked out with the three Lasses, chuckling to himself. He had taken three Lasses, and three lads… as well as having three lads beaten. And he had given the man a huge task and not enough time to get it done, as well as his regular duties. He might not be loved, but he would be respected, and obeyed.
“Now, there are whistles, too,” he said, “This one here means, ‘Come Lass, or Horsegirl’…”
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
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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.