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.
