Mary's Path
A foe?

Mary had lost count of how long she had worked in the kitchen, maybe a week or two. It was a morning like any other. They had eaten a quick breakfast consisting of porridge with honey and milk and now the morning work started.

Mary knew without being told that she should bring in firewood from the shed so that the fire in the fireplaces would not go out. She hurried across the yard. The sun was a bit more warming now and Mary was enjoying the warmth when she walked with her arms full of firewood.

Her thoughts were so focused on the sun that she almost collided with the boy who was carrying two buckets of water. She stopped and looked at him. It was the boy she had seen from her window in the tower.

As she stood next to him, she saw that he was a head taller than she was. He had straw yellow hair and gray eyes that were currently looking at her, they looked annoyed.

“Look where you’re going,” he said angrily.

“Look for yourself” she said, rounding him and hurried into the kitchen. How rude, she thought, while she put the wood in a binge.

Soon she was out again to get more firewood. She saw that the boy was walking back with empty buckets and assumed he was going to get more water. Before she knew it, she made a grimace towards him and then turned away.

Mary felt quite happy with herself when she returned with her arms full of firewood. She saw in the corner of her eye that the boy was going away with the buckets of water filled.

Seconds later, she felt her foot get stuck on something and before she had time to react, she fell forward. The wood went in all directions, and she scraped her hands when she braced herself, she also felt one of her knees burning.

As she lay on the ground trying to gather herself enough to get up, she heard a stern voice shouting.

“Zerden!”

Mary raised herself on her knees and looked around. The boy stood not far from her, staring at a person who came walking towards them. Mary also looked at the man.

He was tall and slim but seemed sensuous rather than skinny. He had a scar running from one eyebrow, down over his cheek and ending just at his chin. He looked angry and Mary hoped intensely that it wasn’t her he was angry with.

“Zerden,” the man said again.

“Yes, father,” the boy replied, and Mary saw him looking down at the ground instead of meeting his father’s gaze.

“What do you think you are doing? I saw you trip the kitchen maid. Is that really the kind of man you’re going to be?” his father asked sternly.

Mary looked confused at the boy. Had he tripped her? She had thought she had snagged her foot on the uneven ground. She remembered the grimace she had given him and looked at the boy who was now red across his cheeks and shook his head to answer the question his father had asked.

“I really hope not,” the man said lowly to the boy. “I want you to apologize to her and then you and I will have a conversation about what it takes to be a good soldier. Is that understood?”

The boy nodded, still with his head bowed. Mary felt she had to do something. It wasn’t just his fault. But what would happen if this man talked to Mrs. Karrots about how she had behaved? Would she be kicked out of the kitchen and become homeless? But she needed to do something, Mary stood up and took a step closer to the man.

“Excuse me” she said, and the man turned to her. When she saw the stern gray eyes, she was about to change her mind. But after swallowing once more, she tried again.

“Excuse me, sir, but it is as much my fault as your son’s. We happened to run into each other before and I made a grimace at him when we saw each other again. I was the one who made him angry,” she said as quickly as she could before her courage ran out.

He looked at her and Mary saw that the boy was also looking at her.

“It doesn’t matter, he has to learn to control his temper” the man said. “But I’ll take into account that he was provoked” he said. “Apologize to the girl and give the horses water” he then told the boy before walking away with quick steps.

The boy looked at Mary. The word “sorry” was thrown her way and Mary realized that there was no real emotion behind the word.

“It’s okay. You have to forgive me too,” said Mary, and began picking up the wood scattered across the yard. The boy hesitated for a while before helping her and soon Mary stood there with her arms full of firewood again.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. The boy turned around and left.

“Sissy” Mary heard him say before disappearing around a corner. Mary quickly went into the kitchen. Luckily, no one noticed she had been gone longer than usual. Rubbing her sore hands and her bad knee, she worked on.

She was so angry that she felt like she was boiling. He had called her a sissy. He was rude and a real jerk and she had risked ending up on the street for his sake.

Later that afternoon, Mrs. Karrots had called Mary to give her a new task, but before she had told Mary what to do, the door to the kitchen opened and the man and boy stepped in. Everyone in the kitchen turned around and looked at the man as he came walking.

Just as they had done for Mrs. Meata, they paved the way for the man. He walked straight up to Mrs. Karrots and Mary felt the knot in her stomach get bigger with each step he took. Would he tell Mrs. Karrots what had happened in the morning? Was this when she had to live on the street? The man stopped in front of Mrs. Karrots.

"Castellan" Mrs. Karrots greeted the man. Mary’s knot grew even bigger. Was he the castellan? The small amount of hope she had disappeared, and she envisioned lonely nights on cold streets.

“Mrs. Karrots, I have a favor to ask you for,” said the castellan. Mrs. Karrots nodded.

“My son” he continued “I would like him to learn about hard work, I was hoping you could benefit from having his help here in the kitchen.”

Mary looked at the boy who looked like he would rather die than work in the kitchen.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Karrots. “I think it can be arranged. I already have a new helper that I’m training” she said, nodding toward Mary. “I guess another one wouldn’t be a big inconvenience. He’ll need to be here from the start of the day until we finish, and he’ll eat all the meals with us?”

“That sounds agreeable, and I don’t want him to be treated any differently because he’s my son,” he said. Mrs. Karrots nodded, and the man disappeared from the kitchen, leaving the boy behind.