by Ashenden, V.
She started with room seven. This was the easiest part of the day. She was allowed to clean the rooms and no one ever bothered her or yelled at her or hit her, and she liked to make the rooms look pretty for the guests. She always hummed while she worked, like her mother did when she used to tidy up around the house. Uncle Banyan had sold that house after her mother died. The money had been used to build the chicken coop and buy several other animals, all of which were gone now, save for the last cow. He had lost the rest of the money in a card game.
The chamber pots were Sienna's least favorite part of this job. She took them out behind the barn, emptied them, and then washed them with water from the water pump. Her uncle always said a good tavern had good chamber pots.
As she was busy scrubbing, someone suddenly grabbed her handkerchief, yanking her head back, puling it free, her dirty golden hair spilling out around her shoulders. She cried out as she hit the ground, looking up at a man she did not know.
"There you are," he said between blackened teeth, his face unshaven, his head balding. He smelled worse than the chamber pots. "Saw you again this morning."
"Please, sir, don't hurt me. My uncle isn't far."
This man was a usual customer, or at least he had been over the last month, always drinking in the evenings, and sometimes taking breakfast in the mornings. He threw money around like he was rich. He had also been the one who offered her uncle twenty silver pieces for a night in her company. Sienna did not know what keeping this man's company entailed, but the idea frightened her. Uncle Banyan could be a harsh man, but at least he had told this man "no."
"I don't like hearing no," the man said.
Sienna climbed up. "I'm sorry."
"I like you," he said, stepping toward her.
"That's nice of you to say."
And then he grabbed her wrist. Sienna struggled, pulling free. She turned and ran with all her might. The man was after her. But then Banyan stepped out of the tavern. She was relieved, and she was so rarely relieved to see him.
"There you are, you lazy girl," Banyan said, grabbing Sienna's arm. "You're supposed to be cleaning the rooms."
"I'm sorry, Uncle. I was just getting some water."
He shook his head. "Can't turn my back on you for a moment."
Sienna glanced over her shoulder at the other man. He was standing there, staring at her.
"Mr. Raphael, was she bothering you while she was supposed to be working?" Banyan said. "I'm sorry about that, sir. Would you like to come back in and have another drink?"
"Nah, I gotta be off. I was just talkin' to her," Raphael said.
"This girl doesn't have time to be talking." Banyan opened the tavern door. "You get back to work. And if I hear about you lounging around, talking to the guests when you should be working, you're out on the street. Understand?"
"Y–yes, Uncle."
He pushed her inside and she stumbled, hurriedly moving out of sight, catching snippets of conversation.
"Such a lazy girl."
"I'd like to spend some more time with her."
"Afraid she's not for sale," Banyan said. "And you'd be cheated of your money. Scrawny thing, not worth the time."
"I like 'em fresh. How about fifty for the night?"
"That's a lot, but she's my niece, my own flesh and blood."
Sienna stepped away from the door, returning to the rooms. She would have to go back for the chamber pot later, but she would wait a while first. She cleaned room eight. Fortunately, by the time she was ready to go back out with the next chamber pot, the coast was clear. Even the tavern was empty now.
With the chamber pots and rooms cleaned, she returned to the barn. The stables were all empty, except for the cow. She let her out through the door and into the pen so she could graze. Then Sienna went to work cleaning up the stables. She was careful to scoop all of the manure from the horses and the cow and her calf into a large bucket. Her uncle always sold it at a discount.
After sunset, it was time for the dinner crowd, which was never much of a crowd, but she was still expected to help in the kitchen. She made her way there, finding Mrs. Crockery cooking.
"There you are," Mrs. Crockery said. "I was just thinking I'd have to clear up myself. Get moving then, cheeky girl."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Oh, before you start, bring a bucket of water," Mrs. Crockery said.
"Yes, ma'am," Sienna said, taking an empty bucket, fetching the water and returning with it.
"Now, clear off the tables," Mrs. Crockery told her.
"Yes, ma'am," Sienna said. This part she always looked forward to. Her mouth was salivating in anticipation. She entered the tavern, holding a tray at her side, collecting the dishes on each table. A few of the tables had tips, but she knew better than to touch those. Mrs. Crockery would have killed her.
"Hey, sweetie," someone said.
Sienna looked up, her shoulders shrinking. The man was back, Raphael. He was sitting at the bar as Banyan poured him drinks. There were only a few other patrons. She lowered her head, hurriedly taking her plates back into the kitchen.
Sienna began scraping all the leftovers into a bucket. This was how she so often got her dinner, but even these scraps were supposed to go to the chickens. She always stole mouthfuls when Mrs. Crockery left to bring food into the tavern.
Afterward, Sienna took her bucket out to the chicken coop, stealing a couple more mouthfuls before she tossed the rest to the hens. Then she gave them fresh water and waved goodbye.
"See you all in the morning," she told them.
She filled her bucket with water and brought it back to the tavern. Everyone was gone now, even Raphael, thankfully. She got to work wiping down all the tables with her rag, and then she took her brush and began scrubbing the floor. She always made sure to climb under each table, scrubbing around the legs.
"Where is that girl?" Banyan said as he came into the bar from the kitchen.
"Probably out fussing with those hens," Mrs. Crockery said. "I'm off for the night, Banyan. See you tomorrow."
"A moment, Abigail," Banyan said. "Raphael offered one hundred for her."
"One hundred?" she said. "Are you going to accept?"
"Told him I'd think about it. One hundred is a lot, and Lord knows I need it."
Sienna gulped.
"She's just a child, Banyan," Mrs. Crockery said.
"Eighteen in six months."
"She's certainly never been with a man though. I doubt she's ever kissed a boy. You know you'll ruin her."
"I ain't seen as many customers all summer. I need the money."
"Better ways than that," Mrs. Crockery said.
"It's just one night."
"Don't go tryin' to convince me on it. It's your choice, but we both know what it means."
Sienna crawled out from under the table, scrubbing as if she had not heard. They immediately looked down at her. Her stomach was in knots. She didn't know much about men, but she had heard things in the tavern, enough to know what this meant.
"Sienna," Banyan said, "get in the kitchen and finish the rest of the dishes."
"But I haven't finished with the floor," she whispered.
"Don't argue! Get in there and wash!"
"Yes, Uncle."
She took her bucket and passed into the kitchen, moving on to the dishes, mostly mugs from the bar. There were only two plates. They both had a bit of food on them, but she was not hungry, not anymore. She washed them quickly, setting them out to dry. The kitchen door opened and Banyan came in. Mrs. Crockery must have already left.
"Sienna," Banyan said. Sienna did not like the sound of that. Anytime her uncle called her by her name, it was bad. "Finish up and get on to bed early tonight."
"What about the floor?"
"Worry about the floor tomorrow, will you, sheesh."
"Yes, Uncle."
"And tomorrow afternoon, after you finish with the rooms and the barn, Mrs. Crockery is going to take you into town, get you a fresh bath an
d a scrub."
"Why?" Sienna asked. "I don't need a bath."
"Ey, you're caked brown from top to bottom. You could do with it. They'll put some makeup on you too, do up your hair."
"Why?" Sienna asked. "My hair's fine how it is."
"I'm tryin' to do somethin' nice for you here!" Banyan yelled. "Get on with what I said. Lordy, complainin' when I'm givin' gifts." He stormed out of the kitchen and back into the bar.
Sienna left the kitchen through the back door, coming into the barn. She stepped into her stall, stopping for a moment, holding her stomach. It hurt all over. She sat down, taking off her sandals, her shirt, and her pants, changing into the slip she slept in. Then she lay down and curled up in her blanket, her head in the straw, her eyes wide open. She did not need to hear the rooster crow to wake up the next morning.
Chapter Two
Parlor Tricks
Princess Celeste's landau rolled down the road, the sound of her guards' horses thundering in her wake. Her lady-in-waiting, Homa, sat across from her.
"I'm so glad you're taking an afternoon ride, your highness," Homa said. "It so relaxes you."
"I cannot relax, not with that prince coming in a few days. I am ever so anxious."
"It shall not be as bad as you fear. Do give him a chance. You may even fall in love with him."
"I do doubt that." She shook her head. "Why cannot I rule by myself, Homa? Am I not my mother's daughter? Am I not the product of a great king? Why must I hang on the arm of a king?"
"Would you truly never marry, given the choice, your highness?" Homa asked.
"Why marry when men fall before my feet? Why give away the power of the throne to another? It is madness."
"What of an heir?"
"Plenty of time for that. Let me marry a man who worships me, not wishes to rule me."
"What of love?"
"I will believe in love when I find it. Until I do, it is a story I once had read to me from a book."
"I believe I read that book to you, your highness."
Celeste laughed. "Homa, whatever would I do without you?"
"Pray we never find out, princess. But I do believe love is more important than you let on. Surely, you do not know it until you have it, and once you have it, you shall never desire to let it go. And if the prince is as handsome as the stories say, he may take your love from you."
"Perhaps then I will not mind to marry, but until that moment, I am a slave. Oh, how I desire to be free, to do as I choose, to find my own king. Might he be out there, Homa? Might I lose the chance at love by marrying the prince?"
"Her highness has a point, but wherever shall we find such a man?"
"Where indeed!" Celeste spread the window curtain aside in her carriage. "Driver!"
"Yes, your highness?" he said, turning halfway around, hanging off the seat to look at her.
"Drive farther. Take me out to the country."
"Yes, your highness!"
Celeste came back in, laughing. "Let us see what is out and about. Do you realize, I have never even left the bounds of the kingdom?"
"Surely, you do not intend to leave them today, your highness," Homa said. "We are so unprepared."
"Oh, of course not," Celeste said. "Just a little stroll. It will do me good."
"Indeed."
"What I really need," Celeste said, "is a noble, a man of impeccable background, and he has to be handsome, but weak mannered."
"A puppet, your highness?" Homa suggested.
"Precisely! But where is one to find such a man? All men with a little bit of power only desire more power, and they will see me as a jewel to be won and wielded, when it is I who wish to wield them. Oh, whatever am I to do?"
"Perhaps Prince Cross will not be at all bothersome as your king."
"Homa, by the mere assignment of the word king, I find him already bothersome. I wish to rule as my mother rules, a queen. I will set right the kingdom my father left to her and restore our good name."
"These are righteous desires, your highness, but it is an easier thing to say than to do."
"So true."
Celeste sighed as she turned her eyes to the window, looking at the rolling countryside. And then they passed a middle-aged woman and a young girl. Both of them fell flat on their faces, their hands on the ground, their noses in the dirt, worshiping her mere passing.
"See, that's what I need!"
"Pardon?"
"That sort of devotion, the devotion of a peasant to a ruler. That is what I need in my king."
"Your highness, no noble would serve in such a manner."
"This is true," she admitted.
"However, might her highness consider a commoner?"
Celeste burst out laughing. "Me, with a commoner? Oh, Homa, I do hope you tease. What a wicked idea you've shared."
"I only mean to say, a commoner would love and adore you as you wish to be loved and adored. Surely, you could find a handsome man, strong, good stock. Your children will need that, of course. And such a man might pass the queen's eye of scrutiny. Truly, I do believe the queen only wishes to see you married and happy. This is all the time she has left in her so ill state."
"Homa, you have nearly offended me. Do you think I, a royal princess, could ever so sully myself with a commoner? I would never delude the royal bloodline with common wash! The very idea is offensive."
"Forgive me, your highness. I was only trying to encourage you. For what is a noble but a lucky-in-life commoner? If the monarchy can stand such a man, they can stand a peasant."
"I think not! Imagine what the people would say. I would be a laughing stock. Oh, no, not me. My name shall stand up to scrutiny."
"Then why not take the prince, for isn't he of such honorable stock?"
Celeste sighed. "I cannot have it both ways, can I, Homa?"
"I'm afraid not, your highness."
She shook her head. "These are the musings of a girl so desperate to escape her fate, but musings none the less."
* * *
"Bless my soul! How honored we are! The royal carriage, here, in the street! On your face, girl! On your face!"
Mrs. Crockery yanked Sienna down, shoving her face into the dirt as her own met it with welcome. A stampede of horses with armed soldiers made clear the way. The long white landau followed on eight-wheels, pursued by yet more guards, bearing the flag of the kingdom. Sienna did not look up until the rumbling came to an end.
"Was that the queen?" Sienna asked.
"Might well have been! Or more likely, the queen's steward or chancellor. But to even be in the presence of her highness' servants is more honor than a good-for-nothing like you will ever know in her lifetime."
Sienna lowered her head. "I was honored."
"Come on then. We've got a ways to walk yet."
They started down the road again.
"Just to share the road with the royalty is a great honor," Mrs. Crockery continued. "You'll tell your children about this one day, girl. Mark me."
"Children?"
"Well, don't you want them?" Mrs. Crockery said.
"I never thought much of it, to be honest."
"You'll be thinking of it more now, I expect."
"Why?"
"You're getting older. It's time to think of such things."
Sienna dragged her feet as she walked, receiving a hit in the back of the head for her laziness.
"Don't behave so," Mrs. Crockery said. "Come on now. I've got more important things to do than tidying you up."
"Why are we going for a proper bath? Couldn't we just use the water at the pump?"
"They do more than bathe at the parlor. They'll pluck that nasty hair between your eyes, scrub up that filth under your fingers, polish those nails with color, add a bit of makeup to that shallow face, run a brush through that dirty hair."
"Why do I need all of that?"
"It's a gift from your uncle for all your hard work, not that you earned it."
Sienna swallowed. "I heard
you and my uncle talking about, about selling me for a night."
Mrs. Crockery stopped walking, but then she restarted. "I don't know anything about that."
"What does that man want with me, Mrs. Crockery?"
"Don't ask silly questions. Just do as you're told."
"Yes, ma'am."
Mrs. Crockery shook her head, looking at Sienna as they walked. "Well, don't you know what a man and a woman do alone at night?"
"I've never been alone with a man at night."
"Lord above," Mrs. Crockery said.
"Why? What do they do?"
"They make love, you silly girl."
"I, I don't know how to do that."
"You'll learn soon enough."
"I don't think I want to learn...not with that man."
Mrs. Crockery sighed. "Listen here now. It's all a part of life. Best not struggle. You'll get through it, and it won't be the last time either, don't you doubt it."
"It won't be the last time? Why not?"
"You ask too many questions."
They reached the town, the houses and streets a patchwork of stone, with people moving from here to there. Sienna had not been here in quite some time, not unless her uncle needed her to fetch some bread.
They passed many merchants, all with beautiful things for sale, jewels and tools and fish and fruit, the baker too with fresh bread just sitting out in the streets. It made her tongue salivate. But then they passed the great gallows, a tier made of wood, with places for ten prisoners all to be hung together. She had never seen it happen, only heard stories. It made her neck hurt just to think about it.
At the parlor, Mrs. Crockery handed her over to Ms. Geanne, who ushered her into the back, horrified at her filthy clothes. A team of women began pulling them off. Sienna cried out, covering herself as they shoved her into a steaming hot bath.
"It's so hot!"
"It ought to be hotter with how filthy you are!" Ms. Geanne said.
"What are you doing with my clothes?"
"Washing them," Ms. Geanne said. "Twice."
"That's so nice of you."
"Your mother said to bathe you and by God, we're going to do our best, though never have I been so challenged!"