weeks, with no company but blabbering lunatics, you will be authentically mad. Then I’ll be free to forget you there forever, and seek a more pliant woman.” He smiled again. “And now, will you change your mind and kiss the rod?” I stared at him with horror. Never, in my whole life, had I imagined such a thing.
“Come now,” he said. “Be forgiven, and I will buy you a new dress.” Oh, God, how shameful. I’d rather go naked.
“You’ve taken one step, now take another. You have only three more,” he said, with that awful, cool smile. “Now kneel,” he prompted. He watched every movement with his icy eyes. “Now, was that so hard? Bow your head and kiss it.” He fondled my bent neck. “You see how simple it is? Please me, and bear my sons, and keep my house, and I will keep you. If you prove stubborn and disobedient, I will not.” Then he bade me rise and calmly called in his manservant as if nothing had happened.
It was when his man came to barber him that the last shred of illusion, if I could be said to have had any left, vanished. I suppose I was curious, so I watched from the corner. First the man helped him with his shirt, tied up his points, and took his gipon and surcoat off the perch where they hung and smoothed and tidied them. Then he set a long-handled iron rod in the fire to heat while he shaved him. Having finished, he took the mysterious rod and held it up to Small’s head, winding his hair about it. A sizzling smell filled the room. When the hair was unwound, it was perfectly curled! Another winding, some more stink, and the next bit was done. Soon rows of even ringlets had sprung up around Small’s head. I stared like a fool. But as if that were not enough, the barber took out a little jar and dipped his fingers in it. With a swift little gesture he spread its contents on his patron’s cheeks, and before my eyes the ruddy color that the village women had admired so was restored. Having finished admiring himself in a little bronze hand mirror, Small suddenly spotted me goggling and spat out, “Seen enough, you backward little wench? Now get out before I have to teach you your place again!”
So off I went to the kitchen to begin to learn the many things I needed to know to order his house and servants.
It was no easy task for a girl fresh from the country, only fourteen and a half. I went and stood alone by the kitchen fire, probably looking as lost and forlorn as I felt, suddenly too shy to ask what must be done. The cook left her work and, with a cluster of silent serving maids, stood before me. After looking at me a very long time, as if measuring me, she began, in an oddly gentle sort of way, to explain the household schedule to me and show me where things were located in the kitchen. In the end it was the servants themselves who taught me how to go to market and order appropriate quantities of things for the household, to detect spoiled meats and doctored goods, how to plan meals, order sewing and the care of linens, and handle the great bunch of keys I now wore at my waist. Many kinds of supplies, such as spices, were kept under lock and key, besides the storerooms below and the chests containing valuables. It was all a great deal different than in the country.
“Don’t trust Cook with salt or sugar,” said Nurse, “she steals.”
“Don’t trust Nurse with wine, she drinks,” said Cook. Both women agreed that apprentices and hired men should be locked away from anything edible, and that dinner, our main meal, should be served by ten-thirty in the morning or the sky would fall. In this way my training in housewifery proceeded until I could direct the affairs of the household tolerably well. And I did throw myself into this work with all my energy, for grief only grows with idleness.
But work could not cure the horrors of the night. I felt I could not bear the upstairs room. There was something in it, I fancied. Something invisible that filled me with a strange, heavy
“Come now,” he said. “Be forgiven, and I will buy you a new dress.” Oh, God, how shameful. I’d rather go naked.
“You’ve taken one step, now take another. You have only three more,” he said, with that awful, cool smile. “Now kneel,” he prompted. He watched every movement with his icy eyes. “Now, was that so hard? Bow your head and kiss it.” He fondled my bent neck. “You see how simple it is? Please me, and bear my sons, and keep my house, and I will keep you. If you prove stubborn and disobedient, I will not.” Then he bade me rise and calmly called in his manservant as if nothing had happened.
It was when his man came to barber him that the last shred of illusion, if I could be said to have had any left, vanished. I suppose I was curious, so I watched from the corner. First the man helped him with his shirt, tied up his points, and took his gipon and surcoat off the perch where they hung and smoothed and tidied them. Then he set a long-handled iron rod in the fire to heat while he shaved him. Having finished, he took the mysterious rod and held it up to Small’s head, winding his hair about it. A sizzling smell filled the room. When the hair was unwound, it was perfectly curled! Another winding, some more stink, and the next bit was done. Soon rows of even ringlets had sprung up around Small’s head. I stared like a fool. But as if that were not enough, the barber took out a little jar and dipped his fingers in it. With a swift little gesture he spread its contents on his patron’s cheeks, and before my eyes the ruddy color that the village women had admired so was restored. Having finished admiring himself in a little bronze hand mirror, Small suddenly spotted me goggling and spat out, “Seen enough, you backward little wench? Now get out before I have to teach you your place again!”
So off I went to the kitchen to begin to learn the many things I needed to know to order his house and servants.
It was no easy task for a girl fresh from the country, only fourteen and a half. I went and stood alone by the kitchen fire, probably looking as lost and forlorn as I felt, suddenly too shy to ask what must be done. The cook left her work and, with a cluster of silent serving maids, stood before me. After looking at me a very long time, as if measuring me, she began, in an oddly gentle sort of way, to explain the household schedule to me and show me where things were located in the kitchen. In the end it was the servants themselves who taught me how to go to market and order appropriate quantities of things for the household, to detect spoiled meats and doctored goods, how to plan meals, order sewing and the care of linens, and handle the great bunch of keys I now wore at my waist. Many kinds of supplies, such as spices, were kept under lock and key, besides the storerooms below and the chests containing valuables. It was all a great deal different than in the country.
“Don’t trust Cook with salt or sugar,” said Nurse, “she steals.”
“Don’t trust Nurse with wine, she drinks,” said Cook. Both women agreed that apprentices and hired men should be locked away from anything edible, and that dinner, our main meal, should be served by ten-thirty in the morning or the sky would fall. In this way my training in housewifery proceeded until I could direct the affairs of the household tolerably well. And I did throw myself into this work with all my energy, for grief only grows with idleness.
But work could not cure the horrors of the night. I felt I could not bear the upstairs room. There was something in it, I fancied. Something invisible that filled me with a strange, heavy
Similar Books
