by Laura R Cole
*
Jezebel tramped through the halls of the manor irritably. Where are all the servants when I need one? She passed by the kitchen and was almost knocked over by a girl traveling much too quickly in her hallways. She opened her mouth to scold the girl that running simply was not something that was done here, but seeing as how she was in such a good mood, she shut it again and merely smiled. Well, I've been looking for a servant and here is one in front of me.
“My lady,” the girl curtsied prettily in a gesture of subservience which further quelled Jezebel’s anger. “I'm so sorry. I'm so clumsy.”
Jezebel looked her up and down slowly, as the girl held the pose waiting for her response, and she pursed her lips. The girl was very beautiful with a body toned by constant physical labor. Jezebel felt her eyes narrow to slits as she took in the long supple legs and ample chest underneath the battered tunic. The days of using my female charms to get my way are behind me, Jezebel reminded herself. There is no reason to feel threatened by this girl. Soon I will be far too powerful to worry about such nonsense. Still, she couldn't help the feeling of jealousy that threatened to well up inside of her. She shook the emotion aside and thought instead of her plans. Besides, by bringing the girl along, she could keep an eye on her as well. “Yes, quite clumsy. Go change into something appropriate for a trip to town and meet me by the main entrance,” she commanded.
The girl looked startled by this instruction, but simply nodded her understanding and hurried along to comply. Jezebel strolled to the dining room and inspected the buffet of food presented for her there. She daintily picked up a pastry and nibbled on it, wrinkling her nose in distaste. With all the money I spend importing spices you would think that even the incompetent fools in my kitchen would be able to come up with something decently edible. But no, apparently good food is simply beyond them. Being low-born as they are, they simply have no palate for refined tastes. She put down the pastry and meandered instead towards the front door.
She was surprised to find that the girl was already waiting for her there. She had been hoping to be able to make a comment about having to wait. “Is that really the best you have to wear?” she asked instead, improvising. “Perhaps you'll have to pick up something more appropriate for escorting a lady while we're out.”
Jezebel bared her teeth at the girl who wore a slightly taken aback look before wisely murmuring an apology, and Jezebel brushed by her to the awaiting carriage. She paused at the edge of the carriage and looked back at the girl expectantly. The silly little thing just stood there dumbly, with a puzzled look on her face, and Jezebel sighed exasperatedly. She made a motion for her to open the door. The girl’s pretty little mouth formed a silent “oh” and she rushed forward, tripping in her haste.
Jezebel rolled her eyes at the girl's awkwardness. Really, the servants' ineptitude at times never ceases to amaze me. I may have to have a word with Devon about his hiring choice of this one...perhaps he let a part of his anatomy other than his head influence his feelings and it caused a lapse in his judgment. Jezebel growled under her breath at the thought.
The girl had finally managed to pull herself together and had the door open with a hand held out for Jezebel to hoist herself into the carriage with. Jezebel took the outstretched hand roughly. She settled herself onto the plush cushions and waited as the girl hopped in herself and took a seat opposite Jezebel on the wooden bench provided there.
The carriage jumped into motion and Jezebel gazed out the window at the passing streets. They rode by a run-down home where, as they neared, Jezebel saw a woman with a baby in her arms speaking with a guardsman. The words drifted to her over the clattering of the horse's hooves and she listened with growing annoyance to the pleading of the woman.
“Please, sir, without this money we won't be able to buy food for my baby. She's only eight months old.” The woman had dirt smeared on her face and her clothes were torn and ratty, and the baby was in no better condition.
She shouldn't be allowed to reproduce like that, Jezebel thought with contempt. Disgusting, vile creature.
“Please,” the woman continued to beg. “We can't afford the taxes right now.”
Jezebel sniffed her disdain at the woman and commented as they passed, “Isn't it sickening how many people are out there looking for a free hand out?” She smiled cruelly at the woman, whose gaze focused on their carriage for a moment, drawn by her voice. “What's that woman doing going around making babies instead of working harder so that she can pay her taxes?” Jezebel drummed her fingers on her knee. “If it was up to me, I'd have all those freeloaders thrown out of the city, but my father and other important people insist on keeping them, saying it's our duty to protect them in exchange for their taxes.” She waved her hand in the air with a haughty flourish. “But look, this woman doesn't want to pay her taxes. What if an army came marching through, and I just decided that I didn't feel like it, so I wasn't going to send out my guards that day. No, I don't think so,” she paused in thought. “Not that it wouldn't be tempting to show them what would happen if I didn't.”
Jezebel chuckled and looked at the servant girl who was now staring out the window at the woman with a strange look on her face. When the girl noticed that Jezebel had stopped talking and was looking at her expectantly, she turned back and made a sound of agreement.
Satisfied, Jezebel went on, “You should see the way these people live. It's really quite sad. You'd think that they would have some kind of instinct or something to clean up after themselves, but they wallow in their own filth and then wonder why they have plagues spreading through their populace.”
Jezebel ranted along this same vein for a while, simply enjoying the ride, as the carriage made its way slowly through the winding streets towards the center marketplace. As they approached, the sound of the shops could be heard - vendors hawking their goods, coins jingling in purses, and the general commotion of a busy street. The driver halted the horses, and came around the side to open the door and help the two women out. The girl stood respectfully off to the side and folded her hands in front of her, waiting for Jezebel to tell her what to do.
“Come along, dear, we're going to go pick out new furniture for the sitting room; my father's treating me.” Gathering her skirts around her, she flowed past the girl and deftly moved between the people in the crowd towards the woodworkers' guildhall.
