Squire Hayseed

by S E Zbasnik

  “You balmy squire and knights live in nuffin but leather and steel. Strapping on the cutlery drawer sure as shit ain’t fashionable.”

  Her hackles soothed down from both his words and that he snapped off the airs. “Maybe not fancy,” she patted the freshly laundered livery dropped over a long-sleeved tunic, “but it is comfortable. Look,” Hayley bent clean over to grab her ankles, “I can even do this without worrying about my bum ripping out.”

  Finn snorted, his legs crossing as if that could hide how short his tunic was and how tight the trousers were. Her laughing eyes darted up to his and she found them…wandering. They traversed her bent in half body and a great blush broke over her cheeks. Snapping back up fast, Hayley tried to find anything to escape the weird feeling in the air and her gut.

  “What are you doing in that anyway? How’s it not spook the horses?”

  “This is tradition. Dating back to generations of stablehands. Least when our masters make us.” He laughed to himself, but Hayley slid a step or two closer, sharing in the joke. She knew all too well what it was like to slip on this or that because it was ordered of her. Gavin seemed to think she needed to learn how to move in armor. Nothing as fancy as his full plate, not that it’d fit — but some chainmail and splint as well. Most of it nearly tumbled to her knees, the man she borrowed it off of being of the barrel-chested variety.

  “So…”

  Hayley glanced up from nothing but her thoughts to find Finn rather close to her. She didn’t mean to inch that near, but backing up would…probably be mean. His giant forehead tipped to the left, his grey eyes crinkling at the edge in mischief. Oh god, she hated when she saw that — it was usually at her expense.

  “You talking to me again? I thought you swore off that ‘grabby, kidnapping stableboy.’”

  Her hand drew up her elbow, trying to worry away the awkwardness rising in her chest. “I ain’t talking to you,” she sputtered. “It’s more at you, in the vicinity of you.” Damn it.

  A single laugh spat out of Finn’s lips, drawing Hayley’s attention to them. They sort of glistened in the sunlight, like a cool brook you wanted to scoop to your mouth after a hot day.

  No. Ugh.

  Not at all like…

  Her entire face scrunched up tight, trying to wick away the thought.

  “Admit it, admit the truth,” Finn stepped closer to her, Hayley’s back flattening to the stable post. She could slide to the side to dodge him, but her feet were frozen. What truth did he mean? About her past? About her squiring?

  About him?

  Her spine locked at that thought, fingers digging back into the post to keep her upright. Finn’s stormy eyes drifted down to follow the movement of her fingers before returning right to hers.

  “You had fun with Cop,” he said, his face shining.

  “I…” Hayley spat out fast, her heart bounding about because at first, she feared he’d ask something else. But his real question drew a fresh anger. The reason she was mad at him, the reason she’d tried to not talk to him these past few months. “No, I didn’t. I told you. Over and over. I don’t like horses.”

  “Yeah?” he oozed across the grass, his forehead nearly bashing into the rim of Hayley’s hat. She’d never had a boy that close to her face, ever. The tip of his pink tongue ran up to dart against his lip and the smell of honey wafted from his breath. Ania let him sneak a treat from the kitchens.

  Hayley’s brain wanted to think about the last time she and the servant girl were sitting together in the wash-up room, taking spoonfuls of the pepper jelly, but her body was busy. It kept pointing out how there was a boy nearly glancing his face and hands against her. Nothing more than a whisper of a breeze managed between them. If her knight spotted this he’d probably stumble red-cheeked through the boys, and girls, and babies talk again.

  Summoning up strength out of her legs, Hayley repeated, “I don’t like horses.”

  “What about me?” Finn asked, his lips lifted in a half smile.

  Her brain threw out “Be downright stupid for you to work with horses if you don’t like them,” but nothing more than a sputtering breath made it past. The boy was inching closer, his stormy eyes slipping closed. What should she do? Should she do anything? Slip away? Punch him in the gut?

  Let him…

  “You there, Boy!”

  Finn yanked his head back far, Hayley slapping a hand over her virgin lips, as the ‘boy’ sneered. He looked about to unleash a torrent of cursing but caught sight of a pair of the richest duds ever strapped to the back of a horse. The mask he’d been saddled with for two days slapped back on.

  “Yes, my Lady.” Finn tipped his head low and dashed quickly towards the saddle. “What do you require?” he asked even as the woman spun her hands out to plant on Finn’s shoulders.

  Hayley dug into hers, watching as the older woman treated Finn’s body like furniture. The body that was nearly pressed up against hers. Was that a good thing? Bad? Her scraggly skeleton and brain were twisting around in a cyclone of confusion so she went with both.

  “I am Countess Dorean,” the woman announced once she was on the ground. She was short, nearly as short as Hayley. Only the plume in her traveling hat helping her to tower anywhere close to the boy who was now shifting towards the luggage strapped to the horse’s ass.

  “You’re welcome, Countess,” Finn responded as if she’d thanked him.

  “Be careful.” Dorean eyed up his rather delicate work undoing the leather straps. “I have a priceless heirloom inside and if I discover it’s broken it shall be your tanned hide.”

  The threat rolled off Finn’s back as he gathered up all the luggage in his arms to deposit on the ground. Once that was finished, he attended to the horse — which was when his eyes came alive. Hayley foolishly smiled along, enjoying not the giant animal but the way the boy cared for it.

  “Well…” The Countess clicked her tongue, but it wasn’t to Finn. No, her withering glare was right at Hayley.

  “Well what?” she spat. Finn winced a moment at her insolence, but she caught him snickering as he buried his face into the horse’s saddle.

  Dorean squared her shoulders and tipped her head toward the pile of luggage. Blinking, Hayley shrugged again. She very clearly crossed her arms over the livery upon her chest. Hello lady, Squire, not some bag girl here to cart your crap around.

  The Countess was having none of that. She summoned her best well-I-never glare, wrinkled eyes went wide, nostrils flaring. Hayley was about to return it when both were saved by the hero himself.

  “Ah, Countess Dorean,” Gavin’s voice rumbled from across the courtyard. He was jogging closer, his eyes fully upon the old woman who was now blushing at his attention — of course. Did he spot Hayley and the old bat having a staring contest and come running over to stop it?

  “Ser Gavin.” Dorean smiled, her gloved hand extending to him. He picked up the limp fingers and pressed the chastest peck of his lips to them. No doubt they tasted of dirt and death, but Gavin didn’t let his smile slip for a second. “It’s nice to see there are yet some manners in this world.” Her clear ire was meant towards Hayley, but the girl only rolled her eyes wide and sighed.

  To cover for it, Gavin said, “I did not know you were attending Lady Bernadine’s feast.”

  “The Duchess,” Dorean made certain to emphasize that word as if she knew better than the knight serving Bernadine, “invited me especially.”

  “Wonderful.” Somehow he managed to slap a genuine smile on, as if he was really glad to have this cruel woman in attendance.

  She melted like butter at the attention, her withered lips lifting in a shy smile. Reaching her hand out, Dorean folded her arm with Gavin’s and leaned into him. Her bony old shoulder dug deep into his chest, but he didn’t bat an eye. “I am grateful to see your presence remains,” she said, falling to the side as the pair began to slowly bob and weave towards the master house.

  “Oh?” he asked as if he once again had no idea of h
is effect on women. Hayley paused her eye roll and her mind drew up the image of a blonde woman’s naked back framed by a keyhole. Sometimes he knew.

  “There is a precious jewel in my collection that the Duchess wished to purchase,” Dorean explained, practically her entire body hanging off of Gavin’s one arm. Though, given how wide his muscles were, he could probably support her and Bernadine dangling off his biceps. “I pray that it will not…” The woman paused as she glanced back to her luggage squatting in the dirt.

  Sensing the cause of her ire, Gavin said, “Squire?”

  Hayley didn’t release her crossed arms, just glared at him. Carrying shit for nobles was not in her expected duties. The pairs stare continued, Gavin not saying a word — only puffing out his nostrils. She wasn’t about to back down either; she was no errand boy. For starters, she wasn’t a boy.

  With the subtlest of movements, Gavin tipped his head to Dorean and, to Hayley’s shock, his eyes flickered up then down. Did he just roll his eyes at a Countess? He parted his hands open in front of himself, giving the signal for please.

  Damn it! Hayley hefted up the bags and crates, groaning at the weight. Why did she ask Ania to teach her that? And why did she care if her knight needed help? It was his problem.

  The Countess, pleased that she won, chuckled. “It seems even the mangiest dog can be taught.” Gavin spun her around, marching the woman towards the door so she wouldn’t watch Hayley spit on her luggage.

  Hayley yanked on the tight neck of her livery, tempted to grab on with both hands, but an amber eye was watching from across the grand hall. Grandish hall. There was enough room for a big, fancy table and chairs tucked up around it. But proper grand halls should have stuffed bears in corners, and a throne on those fancy stairs to nowhere. Maybe a fountain. Can one have fountains inside?

  The Duchess was giving a jolly toast from her position at the head of the table, extending her arm towards the various guests. They’d all been sitting there unimpressed by the spread before them because you could only really be noble by having seen everything already. Hayley had no such qualms.

  When Gavin walked her into the room and placed her across from him — the pair standing at attention for the greetings, and salutations, and however long they could drag this out — Hayley’s stomach cried for joy. The crispy, drool-inducing scent of fried fat hung in the air. It seemed to leap first from the pile of deep-fried dough balls on a platter in the middle of the table that were coated in a sprinkling of sugar. They looked like snowballs, ready for a hand to yank one up and get to tossing. Someone even stacked three together then jabbed in a carrot for a nose. The scent off of them was intoxicating, all crispy golden dough that nearly caused Hayley to buckle.

  They must have been a starter as the guests would pick up one to chew on before taking their designated places. Hayley tried to inch closer, thinking maybe if she kicked the table the snowman would fall apart and she could snatch one up off the ground. But Gavin’s liquid fire glare warned her to cease fidgeting and she remained in place. It grew harder for her to play the part of disinterested squire as each snowball vanished until only a pair remained behind.

  Hayley was tempted to leap forward and damn the consequences when the doors opened and a true feast came dancing into the hall. Silver bowls that could bathe a dog were placed down in three spots upon the table. She couldn’t see what was inside, but the smell off of them was pure poultry and fennel with a creamy butter undertone. What made them stand out were the cow ribs bundled together with twine to form a macabre statue drowned in the meaty stew. The first was of a small man, or woman, standing astride the soup. The second was a hand, with perhaps a pelvis providing the base for the rib fingers. And the last, to Hayley, looked like a worm. A worm that drew itself up out of the soup to stare at everyone and…

  Oh, it was a snake. She laughed to herself at the realization, drawing the ire of the guest of honor for that dish. Jerking her head to the tureen meant for him, when Gavin looked he nodded his head and fell back into place.

  “Please,” Lady Bernadine extended her hands to her fancy guests.

  Each of the men leaned towards the little bone sculptures and gave a tug upon the twine. Some servant’s afternoon of work fell apart instantly, the bones all plopping into the soup below while the men stirred their addition. A hissing noise rose from the bowls, Hayley pressing her back tighter to the wall. Shit, what if there was a snake in there and it was angry now?

  Her hand lashed backward, nearly colliding with a painting. Instead of an angry reptile, a nest of creamy bubbles rose from the lip of the tureens. That must have been the proper response as the guests didn’t bat an eye, and instead waved over the hungry servants to ladle the concoction into their bowls. Ania was serving towards the end of the table, quickly whipping them out to everyone as if she was a pro.

  Well, she probably was come to think of it.

  In turning to her right, Ania’s hand bumped into a bowl placed before an empty chair. She tapped her fingers into it and glanced directly at the head of the table. Lady Bernadine was chuckling with the man on her right — a wizened old wizard Hayley at first thought was a corpse strung up on the horse he rode in on. When the man had coughed and asked Finn for water, she’d nearly leapt out of her shoes.

  It took a few more clinks of the bowl before Bernadine sighed and bowed her head. Whatever that was about must have been resolved as Ania filled it up and fed the ghost for that chair. God’s bones. Hayley’d been fasting, along with everyone else at the estate, and the torture of watching other people eat was doing her in. She’d give her right hand for a single drop of that soup. Or just a bone to chew on.

  Deep in her gut, she could feel another gurgle coming on. Hayley moved to try and rub it away when a loud clatter of soup into bowl broke over the pleasant conversation.

  “Ser Gavin,” Lady Bernadine said and Hayley flinched instinctively. Oh shit, was she going to order him to take his squire out and discipline her for having stomach gurgles? “Why are you not sitting?”

  “My Lady, it…” He tipped his head to that empty chair with its own bowl of soup, but Bernadine clearly wasn’t having whatever that was about. Gavin flushed and nodded deeply, “Of course, my Lady.” He finally broke from his hour-long stance at the side of the room.

  Hayley watched him slide towards a chair at the end of the table, her lips hanging open, when Gavin caught her look. His head barely nodded before she dashed forward, landing with a loud plop into a chair across from him. He took his time, easing back the chair and delicately sitting in place. Hayley practically wrenched hers across the room in her excitement, her hands wrapping around the empty bowl.

  She moved to grab onto the tureen, rising up from her chair, but Gavin sighed and shook her off it. Slinking back down, empty bowl in hand, she had to wait as he kindly asked the lesser nobles to pass it down. That took even longer, the man with the mustache of a horse’s tail grousing under his breath. Every centimeter of the tureen’s slow climb back to them was agony, Hayley wanting to dig her hands into her face and scream.

  With a little flourish, Gavin twisted the ladle around until it was in the perfect spot and filled up his bowl. Hayley kept knocking her teeth together, her hands patting into the polished wood of the table.

  “Squire,” he said, and she ripped her rhythm away instantly. Eyes wide, Hayley stared at him, until he pointed at her bowl.

  Oh, yeah. Passing it over, Hayley twisted on her haunches when Gavin handed her his bowl. She stared in awe at the creamy delicacy slopping around inside. “Eat up,” was all he said, his attention turned back to the tureen.

  Barely taking the time to pick up her spoon, Hayley dug in deep. The buttery cream of the soup base wrapped around her tongue like a warm hug. She swallowed another four spoonfuls down before another flavor rose from its watery grave, something in the beef bones managing to leech into it. It tasted of not only chipped beef done so much better but also a prickly pepper finish.

 
; Hayley didn’t realize she nearly downed the entire thing until the glint of her spoon was visible below the top bubbles of the soup. Those little bubbles were their own strange delight. Placing a scoopful onto her tongue, as they dissolved in her mouth there was a little pop of meaty air that slithered down to her stomach.

  “Ah, the next course has arrived,” Lady Bernadine called out to them all.

  One by one, each of the guests laid their soup spoons down inside their bowls. Hayley’s eyes were wide, her spoon stuck to her tongue in ecstasy. There was still a scoopful of broth left in her bowl, but one of the servants — Eric, by the look of him — came for her dish. She quickly scooped in as much as she could, barely pausing to swallow, but sadly a small puddle vanished back into the dining room. Her wide eyes trailed it, mad at her for letting such a hearty meal get away when the doors opened again to a miracle.

  Stretched up high on a platter of wood was that goose Hayley picked for the slaughter. Its roasted breast was evident to all, but someone took the time to place back the feathers on its wings. They were stretched wide, supported under a pile of parsnips, as if the dead goose might suddenly take flight.

  A few of the guests clapped politely while the undead goose was placed at the table. Hayley tried to not catch its blackened eye still left inside the dangling head. It was its fault for always going after her. And for being delicious.

  The doors parted in this never-ending feast, and a few oohs caused Hayley to spin about in her chair. Perched upon a wave of various root vegetables was a massive fish, well, the back half of a fish. Its head was cleaved off, and stitched to where its face would be was the body of a chicken. Then onto the chicken’s neck they stuck the fish’s face. Hayley gulped, trying to inch away from the monstrosity placed further away from her. Light reflected off the blue and grey scales of the fish’s body, which gave the chicken’s golden skin an unnatural tint.

  “Ah,” a frilled out young man cooed from a few chairs up from Hayley, “a mermaid.”