22

Kendra woke with a start from a brief uncomfortable nap.  Someone was in the stable!

“All right, girl.  Get thee back,” said a gruff male voice at the other end of the stable.  Kendra started to stand.  The horse at the far end nickered, and in the dim light she saw two dark silhouettes, and ducked down quickly.  Man and horse backed out of the stable, into the moonlit muck.

That was close!  Kendra realized more completely just how little she had thought things through.  She held very still, and trusted the thinning shadows to hide her when the fellow came back for a feed bag.  Her pounding heart and attempt at silence made her breath ragged as she listened intently to the sounds of man and horse just outside.  The light increased slowly, enough that when the fellow came back in, she could make out that he wore some sort of light-colored shirt under a dark vest.  Kendra caught side of her own shirt at the bottom of her field of vision.  The off-white pullover just about glowed in the shadows!  Any moment, the gruff fellow might see her and think--what?  That she was the Asian Witch of Clean Shirts?  No, common folk of the sixteenth century probably didn’t know about Asia.  They might think the occidental angles of her eyes marked her as a denizen of hell.

None of those thoughts did anything to calm Kendra’s racing heart.  When the gruff fellow--was he a stable hand, a groom, or somebody’s driver?--had again left the stable, Kendra gingerly explored the parts of the two rough walls within her reach.  Both felt solid.  She heard more voices, and they seemed to be headed right for the stable!  Panicked she pushed harder.  The walls did not give.  She’d have to jump back to her own time.

Kendra’s hand had already closed on the key fob when she realized that her left leg was much colder than her right.  She must be sitting on top of a draft.

The men paused before entering the stable to exchange greetings with the first fellow.  Kendra heaved the crude saddle to the side, and pawed desperately at the pile of hay under it.  There!  Two of the planks had rotted away at the bottom.  Kendra scooped away more of the hay and wriggled out through the hole.  She saw no one behind the stable, and ducked back in to try to cover her tracks.  She pushed at the hay hurriedly.  No good, it looked obvious.  Clumsy and in a desperate rush, she untethered the last two horses, then slid escaped once more through the hole.

“Hey, sirrah!  Your lord’s two nags ‘ave been at the hay.  His lordship did na’ pay for such!”

Her diversion worked like a charm.  Kendra thought quickly.  She could jump back to her own time, but she had learned so little about the time she’d landed in.  She decided to investigate.  Since she was wearing pants, she’d need to pass as a boy.

Hastily she stuffed her hair down the back of her shirt, then hid her shoes under a rock, and rolled in the mud, grateful that it smelled much better behind the stable than it did near the inn, which Kendra could see more clearly with every passing moment.

She snuck into the woods and worked her way through the trees parallel to the road that passed the inn.  By the time she emerged from the forest around the bend and out of sight from the inn, a sliver of sun had risen above the forest.  She assessed her appearance.  Her feet and hands were scratched and bleeding, and she was still too clean.  Kendra stuck some more twigs in her hair.  She ground dirt into the clean spots on her clothes, and then, content that she’d done her best, walked down the muddy dirt road back toward the inn.

Her determination to learn more was rewarded.  She saw the kitchen girl come out to slop the pigs.  The girl emptied her bucket in the sty, then filled it with water from a well.  That she dumped in a trough for the pigs before she refilled it and hauled it back into the kitchen.  Kendra fervently hoped that the water was for mopping, and not for human consumption.

More importantly, she got a good look at the girl’s clothes:  brown dress with a darker sort of half-dress without sleeves over it.  The girl’s hair was up some how with a scarf tied over it.  Her feet were in what looked like worn out, shapeless leather slippers.

“Hey, you there!”  The gruff fellow who had been first to the stable came around the front of the inn and called to Kendra.  “Come here, lad.”

Kendra pretended not to have heard him and shuffled on.  If she could just get back around the bend and out of sight, she could jump.  She heard a horse trot toward her.

She was almost at the bend when the horse broke into a gallop behind her.  She waited to the last minute, then jumped off the road.

The gruff fellow dismounted and loomed over her as she rose to her hands and knees with her back to him.  If she were careful to continue to lean forward, then her mud-weighted shirt would swing away from her body, and hide her blessedly small breasts.  She turned toward the fellow, and playing the simpleton, kept her eyes on his shoes.  They seemed a little sturdier than the kitchen girl’s slippers had been, but they were still shapeless lumps without a discernible sole.

Kendra jumped when the fellow grabbed her chin roughly and forced her to look up. 

“Are ye deaf, then?” shouted the fellow.  “I’ve had to give chase a fair piece.  Who d’you belong to, eh?”  He waited, but Kendra just stared off to the side and into the forest.

With his hand still on her chin, he turned her head from side to side.  Kendra felt her neck pop, and hoped he’d taken care of the last bit of stiffness.

“Who are your people?” the fellow bellowed again.  “Deaf and dumb, then are ye?”  He dropped Kendra’s chin and shook his head.  “Come along.”  He grabbed the horse’s reins, gestured for Kendra to follow, and turned back toward the inn.

Kendra shuffled on, away from him and toward the bend in the road. 

“Hi!”  A rough hand spun her around.  “This way, idiot!”  He raised his hand as if to clout her on the head.  Kendra raised both arms and ducked.  He pulled her up again, and keeping a tight hold of her arm, pulled her along.

“You’re a skinny thing.  Dunno wha’ the master will make of ya, but you’ll work for your supper here, sure.”  He shook her arm.

They walked like that back to the inn.  The fellow tossed the reins around a hitching post, then dragged Kendra through the mud and around the inn to the kitchen.  It smelled good.  The cook, a plump woman with red cheeks, stirred some sort of gruel in a kettle that swung from a metal arm over the fire.

“Found this idiot awanderin’ past the inn.  Deaf and dumb, he is.”

“What am I to do with another idiot?!” the cook teased him as she studied Kendra.  “I’ve got you lot to feed as it is.” 

“Shut your trap, woman,” said the gruff fellow, but he let go of Kendra, stepped forward to tweak the cook’s cheek, then kissed her quick.

“Out, out of my kitchen, swine!” yelled the cook, but she smiled as she said it.

The gruff fellow took himself off.  The cook looked at Kendra, sniffed, then stirred her gruel again. 

“Over here, girl,” the cook commanded as she stirred.  Kendra almost moved, but stopped herself in time.  The cook gestured to the kitchen girl, whom Kendra had seen earlier.  She remembered the bucket of water and glanced around for it.  Most unfortunately, the bucket was empty near the door, and the floor did not seem mopped.

“Don’t you let it burn!” the cook said, and poked her thick finger in the girl’s shoulder as her helper took the long handle of the paddle and stirred.

“Now, you, sirrah,” the cook turned to Kendra, who pretended not to have heard.  The generously proportioned woman sighed, poked Kendra, and motioned for her to follow.  Outside the cook grabbed the ax that leaned against the wall near the door, and led Kendra to a wood pile. 

The wouman pointed to the pile, made chopping motions, then pointed at Kendra.  She shoved the ax into Kendra’s hands, then pointed at the pile again.  She stood waiting until Kendra picked up a short section of a log, laid it on its side across a large log that seemed to serve as chopping block, and swung the ax.  It slipped off the bark and nearly hit Kendra’s shin.

The cook smacked her forehead with her palm, took the ax from Kendra, turned the chunk of wood on its end, and swung the ax, cleanly splitting the log in two.  She held the ax out toward Kendra, and gestured for her to proceed.

Kendra set one of the two split pieces on its end on the chopping block, and looked at the cook, who nodded for her to go on.  Kendra swung, and the ax got stuck about halfway through.  The cook laughed and made  short chopping motions.  Kendra did as instructed, and swung wood and ax together against the block until at last the chunk split through.  She looked at her palms.  They were already red and sore.

The cook shook her head, amused, and made it known with gestures how thick she wanted the wood split.  The good woman returned to the kitchen then, but peered out the door frequently to be sure that Kendra was working.

By the time the residents of the inn were up and ready for breakfast Kendra had bleeding blisters on both palms and several tender bruises on her shins.  The cook’s checks on her progress had become more infrequent as she got busier with breakfast.  Kendra waited until the cook had checked, then snuck behind the stable to retrieve her filthy shoes.  Amazed that she hadn’t chopped off any of her fingers, she fished the key fob out of her pocket and pressed the button.