by Katie Roman
Each of the five magistrates held court over a specific city district. Given that she made her claim on Golden Road, but was apprehended in Seafarer’s Way, Aleka wondered which magistrate would judge her. She knew it certainly wouldn’t be Lord Ghilian since he presided over the Serenity Place district.
Aleka sat on the bench provided in her cell. Her hands shook and her stomach felt like it was being pitched about like a ship in a storm. She had done nothing wrong; nothing more than reporting the murder of an innocent. The Admiral should be locked up, not me.
“Miss Akoni?” At length, a young herald dressed in orange and navy blue livery came to fetch her. Judging by the herald’s attire, she assumed she’d be tried by Lord Fresch of Golden Road.
Two guards came in behind the herald and escorted Aleka into the courtroom. It was filled with wooden benches and a balcony for extra seating, while Lord Fresch sat behind a tall desk. He wore navy blue robes with an orange collar, the colors of his house. He sat behind the desk reviewing a scroll.
Lady and Lord Ghilian were in attendance, along with the Admiral and his young wife, Deana. Lady Ghilian’s maid, Greta, and Lord Ghilian’s valet, Henry, stood near the back of the room should the lord and lady need them. On either side of the door were two more guards. Otherwise, the courtroom was empty. There would be no spectators at the trial of a murdered cook’s daughter. Lady Ghilian would never allow for a public spectacle. It would be too much of a scandal.
The guards marched Aleka over to a bench and shackled her feet to its legs. She closed her eyes, thinking of Kunegunda and trying to draw much needed strength. She would endure, as her heroine had all those centuries ago. When Aleka opened her eyes again, she tried to keep that idea fixed in her mind.
“Miss Akoni,” Lord Fresch said, looking down from his seat of power at her. “I hope your temper has cooled since you ran yesterday from the city guards who were only trying to help you.”
Aleka said nothing; biting the inside of her cheek. Help, indeed, she thought.
“Your mother, Halia Akoni, was in the employ of Lord and Lady Ghilian of Greyhome. In exchange for paying for yours and her voyage from the Nareroc Islands, and for offering you a fine education, including violin lessons, she was to serve them for sixteen years as an indentured servant. She acted as their cook and they provided a small wage, food, clothing, and shelter.” The magistrate looked up from his paper and down at her, adding, “I understand Halia Akoni has, regrettably, passed on.”
Aleka bit down harder on her cheek, saying nothing, but nodding stiffly in response. The muscles in her legs twitched and a small voice inside her whispered Run! but when she shifted, the chain around her ankles clanged against the stone floor; a stern reminder that there would be no running.
“It is unfortunate Mistress Akoni has died,” the magistrate said, unconcerned.
She was murdered! Aleka screamed inside her head.
“But her debt is going unpaid, as she served only five of her sixteen years with Lord and Lady Ghilian. You will need some time to grieve, of course, but in three days you will be expected to serve the rest of your mother’s indentureship. You will serve in Lord and Lady Ghilian’s household until the eleven remaining years are completed or your contract is bought out. You will be assigned whatever tasks they deem necessary. You will be given a modest wage in addition to housing, clothing, and food. At the end of eleven years, if Lord and Lady Ghilian choose to retain your services, that is up to them.”
Aleka could taste the tangy, coppery blood as she broke the skin on the inside of her cheek. If she bit down any harder, she’d tear a hole clean through. "No!" she screamed, her first words since being dragged into court. "I’m supposed to serve the same people who allowed my mother's murder? The people whose son goes unpunished for slicing up my defenseless mother in the middle of their kitchen? No!"
"Miss Akoni," Lord Fresch's voice cut through the air like a sword. Sharp, deadly. "You will be held a fortnight, at least, in Redbank Prison if you continue to spread falsehoods about Admiral Ghilian."
"He murdered my mother! I saw him with the knife!" she exclaimed. She flapped her skirts. “Her blood still stains my clothes! Just because he can wash his hands, doesn’t mean they are any less stained!”
One of the guards who had brought Aleka in struck her hard across the mouth. Her lip split open and she felt warm liquid roll down her chin.
"No one speaks ill of the Admiral, wench," the guard growled.
Aleka held her face and glared at the guard, although she didn't wipe away the blood. She wanted people to see it, to wear it as a badge of honor to show how the courts injured poor people.
"Guardsman!" Lord Fresch yelled, exasperated. "There is no need for that! Miss Akoni, I will only warn you this last time to stop your accusations. Admiral Ghilian has already made his own statements as to the events surrounding Halia Akoni's death."
"I have not heard these statements, my lord," she hissed.
"The Admiral says Mistress Akoni came at him with a butcher's knife in a rage when he came down for some food. He grabbed the only weapon available to defend himself. It was an accident and nothing more, Miss Akoni. A regrettable accident, but an accident, nonetheless."
"Her throat was slit!" Aleka put her hands up quickly in case the guard decided to strike her again. "And he was drunk. I could smell the whiskey on him."
Lord Fresch shook his head. "It must have come from your mother."
Aleka shook her head. It was no accident; it was murder. Halia didn't drink, not often at least, and certainly never whiskey. Aleka opened her mouth to continue arguing, but the magistrate banged his gavel.
"Miss Akoni, this matter is settled, and I suggest you hold your tongue when speaking of your betters. You will leave with Lord and Lady Ghilian today, but if any word reaches this court that you are spreading falsehoods or shirking your duties in their household, you will find yourself in Redbank. For your own good, girl, behave yourself." He banged his gavel again.
It was done. A magistrate’s word was law, and no words Aleka could scream would get through. Admiral Ghilian was untouchable and Halia was still dead.
Aleka slowly turned to face Lord and Lady Ghilian. Lord Ghilian pursed his lips and shook his head. Lady Ghilian wrung her hands and looked faint, her face devoid of color. Admiral Ghilian had a face like stone, but his eyes narrowed ever so slightly when Aleka looked at him. His pregnant wife, Deana, fanned herself and had the audacity to look tired.
The guard gave Aleka a shove to get her moving. Her now unshackled feet moved forward, but she dragged them, fighting in the only way she could.
"Aleka, dear, it's time to go home," Lady Ghilian said. Her voice cracked like she would cry at any second.
Aleka felt a searing fury flash through her body. How dare Lady Ghilian act like she was the injured party!
"Enough coddling, Mother," the Admiral growled. "Her little outburst is over, and Lord Fresch has already allowed her too much time to grieve before returning to work. She doesn't require your pampering, too."
Lady Ghilian snapped her head to the side and leveled such a glare at the Admiral, it made Aleka take a step back. Her eyes darkened as she breathed hard through her nose. "That is quite enough, Edward," she spoke through her teeth. "Now," she turned back to Aleka, her face returning to the look of a wounded doe. "Come along home, Aleka."
"What about my mother's body? Can I at least see it before we go home?" She wouldn't bring up again that Halia should be burned, not buried, but at least Aleka hoped to see her body before it was interred.
"Oh, dear," Lady Ghilian said, reaching for Aleka's hands. "We buried her this morning. It was too expensive to have her laid out another day."
Aleka pulled her hands away, refusing to allow Lady Ghilian to touch her. "You buried her without me? She was barely cold! How could you?" She was barely dead a day, and already they buried her, violating the laws of the gods of Nareroc. On top of that, they didn’t even let Aleka join th
em.
"It had to be done, Aleka," Lady Ghilian continued. "Come along home, dear. We will have a private service with the other servants."
There was nothing else that could be done. Aleka had to go or else face being imprisoned at Redbank. She followed Lord and Lady Ghilian out with her head hanging.
Chapter Five
In her three days of mourning, Aleka remained in the room she had once shared with Halia, emerging only once a day to empty her chamber pot and get food and another pitcher of water.
While isolated, Aleka pretended to be one of Kunegunda’s maids; pretended she had lived all those hundreds of years ago, and the Queen loved her violin playing so much, she asked Aleka to follow her around the Nareroc Islands. It was an old daydream from when she and Halia first came to Glenbard. It seemed so childish now, but it brought Aleka great comfort to escape her own dark thoughts for a while and make-believe she was more than an orphaned indentured servant. All too fast, the three days were up and Aleka was put to work.
Aleka was not a cook. While she knew the basics and could make simple meals, she wasn’t a master at it like her mother. Instead of stepping into her mother's role, a new cook was hired for Lord and Lady Ghilian's household. That left the problem of what to do with Aleka.
Her first week after the grieving period she was sent to work as a chambermaid. Each morning she woke before the sun and saw to the fireplaces, making sure they had enough wood and sweeping out the soot as needed. Once the family was awake, she tidied the bedrooms and emptied the chamber pots. She kept out of sight during the day. When the work was done and the family retired, Aleka sat outside playing her violin.
The problem was that there was already a chambermaid. Winifred was practiced at her work, she worked faster than Aleka, and she didn't stumble through her duties. Aleka had always done odd jobs around the house, but she had never been part of a true regiment of work. It drained her body and spirit. Maybe the thief girl Essie was right to see Aleka as a spoiled child. While Halia worked herself to the bone, Aleka was allowed to practice the violin and do simple errands such as going to the market or bringing messages to the court house. Now she suffered for it.
But Aleka did try. She threw everything she had into her work, because if she stopped for even a moment, her gloomy thoughts were inevitably drawn to her mother. When that happened, she was liable to break down, which would not do. She bristled that she'd been given a scant few days to grieve, and was threatened with the knowledge that if she complained or stopped working, she would be thrown in Redbank Prison. So Aleka simply didn't think. Instead, she continued her daydreams of life as a travelling violinist with Kunegunda, using it to distract her from the pain.
Still, she wasn’t a very good chambermaid. She had much to learn, and the Lord and Lady wasted coin on her when they already had better trained women in her job.
“You’re just wasting time,” Sophie said one evening as she sat outside listening to Aleka play.
Aleka looked down at her violin as she tuned. “Queen Kundegunda of Nareroc was fond of weaving. It did nothing in her fight against her foes, but she told her followers that if it made her happy, it was not a waste. So, like the great queen, I am doing something that makes me happy.”
Sophie sighed and shook her head. “Embroidery makes me happy, but it doesn’t keep food on the table,” she snapped. “Drop the childish fancies, Aleka. They’re just slowing you down.”
“Maybe if you’d kept up with your embroidery, that would be what put food on the table,” Aleka chided. “Plenty of noblewomen want pretty stitchings on their dresses.” When she lifted her violin to her chin, Sophie grabbed her arm, yanking it down.
“Don’t you understand? An indentured servant who isn’t good at their work won’t be sent home, Aleka. Their contract will be sold to a labor camp. You’ll be doing hard labor for eleven years if you keep messing around like this.” Sophie’s voice was hard and her eyes earnest. “Do you know anyone who has survived hard labor for eleven years? Because I sure don’t.”
Aleka counted Sophie as a friend in these somber times, yet it was hard to take her advice when playing was the only thing keeping her sane.
“You don’t have Halia to hide behind anymore.” At this, Aleka pulled away. “Come on,” Sophie said, softer this time, “I’m only trying to help. I don’t want to see you get thrown into hard labor. Ask Winifred for tips. She’ll get you settled.”
Aleka looked at her hands in the fading light of day. It had been just over a week and they already looked worn from overuse. What would eleven years of this do to her? She gripped the neck of her violin harder. Would it ruin her for playing?
“Sell the violin for extra coin,” Sophie suggested. “It’s better to put away such fanciful hobbies now that you’re a chambermaid. It will get you nowhere.”
My little Aleka is going to turn the world on its head. You will all see! She’ll be a famous violinist, playing for kings and queens across the world, Halia said time and again to anyone she met. “My mother believed otherwise,” Aleka answered, fire coming back into her spine. “It’s going to get me out of here, Sophie. By all the gods and goddesses, it’s going to get me away from House Greyhome.”
~*~*~
When Aleka was called into Lady Ghilian's sitting room, she knew she would be dismissed from her duties as chambermaid. With any luck, they would just stick her in the kitchens as the new cook's assistant. Then she'd be out of the way and not mucking around in the nobility's fine things. A small voice in the back of her mind said they would rather sell her contract to a hard labor camp. She tried to shake the thought. Certainly they wouldn’t do that to her, not given her situation. Not given their history.
"Aleka, dear," Lady Ghilian said. She sat in a cushioned velvet chair, calmly drinking tea.
Aleka kept a blank mask on, but her insides churned violently. Lady Ghilian sat calmly enjoying her tea as though Halia hadn't been murdered in the kitchen. Murdered by her son, at that! Aleka kept her hands behind her back where she squeezed them into tight fists.
"I imagine you know why I’ve called you in here." Aleka nodded without uttering a word. If she spoke, she may let a torrid of insults fall from her lips. "You were awarded great privileges when your mother was our cook. She served a double indentureship so that you might flourish. And you did. You are a fine violin player, a surprising feat, given your background."
Aleka's spine stiffened and she stood straighter, raising her chin defiantly. Back handed compliments, she thought. No better than a cur is how she sees me.
"Unfortunately, we have no need for a violinist all the time, and your work as a chambermaid is lackluster at best. When you left the islands, you were allowed to study while your mother worked off your debt. With your mother's untimely passing it falls to you to work off the debt, but you are at a disadvantage because while you understand the duties, you are slow and clumsy with them."
Aleka squeezed her fists tighter, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to be dismissed and given new responsibilities, to be away from this wretched conversation.
"Lord Ghilian is a magistrate, a most prestigious position in this city, the highest honor. And as such, we must have only the most competent staff, the most practiced and experienced. Which means we must remove you from your position as a chambermaid in this household."
"Where am I to go?" Aleka said, her voice coming out in a thin, raspy whisper. It was as though all at once, the moisture fled her mouth, leaving it dry as a desert. "I used to assist my mother in the kitchen. Surely I could be of use to the new cook. True, I am not as practiced as some, but I’m not wholly ignorant of the workings in the kitchen." It certainly beat emptying and cleaning chamber pots.
"Aleka, dear." Each time Lady Ghilian addressed her like that, Aleka felt a part of her harden. She was no dearer to Lady Ghilian than a well-worn pair of house slippers. "You are simply not qualified to serve in this house."
Aleka bowed her head slightly, letting
loose strands of hair fall into her face. She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hand. Her mind screamed to run while her body stood rooted to the spot.
"That is why we've sold your indentureship."
"To whom?" It became hard to swallow. Please not the labor camps, she thought.
"Admiral Ghilian."
Suddenly she longed for hard labor. Mining was a better fate than the one she had so carelessly been assigned. "You may as well put me in a pine box now and throw me in the ground next to my mother!" Aleka snarled.
"Aleka!" Lady Ghilian put a hand to her mouth, aghast. "What happened was no more than self-defense,” she asserted. “You are perfectly safe with the Admiral."
"I'd be safer with a venomous snake coiled around my neck."
"Aleka! Take care of your tone," Lady Ghilian retorted, her eyes narrowing. Her shock was wearing off, quickly being replaced by anger. "You are going to a fine household. It is an honor."
"It is not an honor to serve a dog like the Admiral."
Lady Ghilian rose from her chair. "I said have a care, Aleka!"
"You allowed him to kill my mother!" Aleka wailed, letting all her anger out in a flash. Even if she wanted to stop it she couldn't. It had built up within her like water behind a dam, and now it had sprung a leak. "You, who claimed to love my mother, let her die. And then you wouldn't even allow me to see her! You may as well have held the knife to her throat along with the Admiral, for all the good you did, Lilah!"
Lady Ghilian struck Aleka so hard, she staggered from the force. Aleka grabbed her cheek and glared at her as Lady Ghilian breathed in deep, ragged breaths, her eyes burning holes into Aleka.
"You lived a fine, privileged life here and yet you dare raise your voice to me? You dare to besmirch Admiral Ghilian, my son? And then you dare to address me without my proper title?" She grabbed Aleka's chin, making sure she couldn't look away. "You will never, ever do so again, or I will call the city guard on you myself. You are to report to the Admiral's home at first light tomorrow. I suggest you pack your belongings." She pushed Aleka away, leaving fingernail marks in her chin. Her lips were curled into a cruel sneer and her eyes flashed fire at Aleka. Any goodwill they had when Halia was alive disappeared, replaced by hate and anger.