Zachary & the Scullery Maid
The third short story of a series promoting my upcoming book The Sons of Thestian which being published this November. The stories are designed to give slices of life, introducing setting and characters.
I hope you enjoy.
Warning: The following contains bad language & some violent imagery.
“ZA-CHA-RY!”
The shrill cry echoed up through the stone hallways, sending the birds on the window sill fluttering away in a panic. Belphegore and Zachary raised their heads as the latter gently placed down his quill.
“Hark,” he muttered wryly, “A storm comes this way.”
“What have you done?” Belphegore asked him sternly, but his voice was lined with a faint humour.
“Me? Done?” Zachary pulled an innocent face as a loud hammering came from the door.
“Lord Odin!” From beyond, the angry sound of Lord DuMuriel’s voice rose. “Lord Odin, where is your meddling apprentice?”
“Lord DuMuriel, please come in. Arlen is here with me.” Belphegore invited, and even before he had finished his sentence, the door had swung open. DuMuriel marched in, and at the sight of Zachary, his eyes seemed to pulse further from his skull. Zachary smiled agreeably.
“Lord DuMuriel, what a pleasant surprise.”
“You intrusive, interfering, obnoxious child!” DuMuriel began, pacing over to Zachary who remained firmly in his seat, smile ever in place.
“My good friend,” Zachary said lightly, “Whatever is the matter? You look quite put out. Let me fetch you a drink-”
“-I don’t want a fucking drink!” DuMuriel curled his fingers into Zachary’s collar. Zachary remained unperturbed. “I want my servant back!”
“Your servant?” Zachary blinked languidly, “What servant?”
“Lord DuMuriel, I must insist that you unhand my apprentice and sit down.” Lord Odin commanded firmly, the humour gone from his voice. DuMuriel obeyed, stepping back, his posture still taut with rage. “Please explain yourself. Let us see if we can resolve this problem.”
“There is no problem to resolve!” DuMuriel shouted angrily, “One of my servants – former servants – was caught stealing from me!” DuMuriel explained, “Several of my silver goblets were found hidden in her chambers.”
“That is grave and unfortunate indeed, but what has that to do with my apprentice?” Belphegore prompted and DuMuriel turned once more on Zachary, his breath ragged.
“I had her thrown in the servant dungeon. She was to be punished.” he explained, “But when I went down to claim her this morning, I was informed that she had been bought by someone else – Lord Zachary to be precise!”
“Oh Etheus’ tongue, that was your servant?” Zachary feigned horror. “My dear Lord DuMuriel, I had no idea that she had committed such an offence.”
“You knew!” DuMuriel roared, “you knew!”
“To the contrary…” Zachary stood, “you see, I was in desperate need of a scullery maid. Desperate. So when I saw that there was a girl available in the Servant’s Dungeon who had all the qualifications… Well, I jumped at the opportunity.”
“You took her! She was mine!” DuMuriel lunged forward, as if to grab Zachary but Belphegore stood abruptly from his chair, the wood squealing against the stone. The noise reminded DuMuriel of his place.
“I am afraid, Lord DuMuriel, that when you send a servant to the Servant’s Dungeon you forfeit their employment. It was perfectly legal for Arlen to buy her out for his own household. You should have received the proceedings of such a purchase, of course.”
“I don’t want money.” DuMuriel growled, “I want her hand!”
“To add to your collection?” Zachary asked plainly and DuMuriel seemed to stiffen. “It seems to me, Lord DuMuriel that you have employed quite a few thieves in your time. Might I suggest that you are more prudent in your choice of staff?”
“What are you trying to say?”
“That I will keep an eye on this new girl, and make sure she doesn’t steal from me.” Zachary clasped his hands behind his back, “Though if I am as good a judge of character as I believe, I think she has an honest heart…Perhaps the theft happened in a moment of…unconsciousness.”
“You son of a-” DuMuriel growled.
“-Next time, if you mean to punish a thief, I would suggest not trying to make such an occasion of it.” Zachary proposed, “After all, I may find myself in need of more servants in the future.”
DuMuriel growled, “She’s mine.” he repeated.
“She is nobodies.” Zachary corrected, “But as of now she does work for me…And should anything happen to her that might compromise her ability to do so, that would be judged as an act of theft from me. Which I would warn against, DuMuriel, because you’re not the only man who has the capacity to take another’s hand.” Zachary reached forward and seized DuMuriel’s wrist, holding it up tightly.
“Are you…are you threatening me?” DuMuriel asked with disbelief, waiting for Zachary to pass the grave words off as nothing but a joke. Zachary smiled lightly.
“Yes.” he sang, “Yes am I am. Because I was reading the Book of Law the other day, and I saw that thievery can be punished up to the ‘removal of a hand or equivalent’.” He leant in and whispered, “For the sake of your lineage, I would be wary of that…Because I am very imaginative when it comes to ‘the equivalent’.” he released the man and returned to his desk, taking up his quill. “I am glad we could resolve this as men.”
DuMuriel stood, the colour drained from his face. It pleased Zachary that he had the ability to frighten such men in to silence.
“Is that all, Lord DuMuriel?” Lord Odin asked pointedly and DuMuriel shook his head and then nodded, his fists clenched.
“I will remember this, Zachary.” He warned and turned back to the door.
“I hope so,” Zachary encouraged, and DuMuriel slammed the door after him, marching away. “What an unpleasant man.” Zachary returned to his work, aware of Belphegore’s eyes on him.
“A Scullery maid, Arlen?”
“Yes. My Scullery was in grave peril.”
“Do you even know what a scullery is?”
“I have no idea.” Zachary admitted, putting down the quill and beaming. “It sounds like another word for foreskin.”
Belphegore laughed and then sighed, relaxing back in his chair. “This is becoming a habit, Arlen.” he warned.
“What is?”
“Saving servants. How many do you have working for you now?”
“Oh, a few.” Zachary shrugged, “There is always a surplus, but after a while I tend to find them better work elsewhere with trustworthy people.”
“You are a merchant of good will.” Belphegore congratulated, “but be careful. You are making fools of powerful men, and they will not always be afraid of you.”
“What would you suggest?”
“Choose your battles carefully,” Belphegore advised, “For instance, that girl – Carolina was it?”
Zachary stiffened, “She has been an excellent worker.”
“She was caught openly stealing from you and yet you kept her in your employment.”
Zachary shrugged, “Her son was sick. Dying. She wanted to pay for the physician.”
“That does not resolve her of the crime.”
“Certainly,” Zachary swapped the quill to his left hand idly, continuing to work. Belphegore coughed and looked pointedly at the offending hand. Zachary swapped the quill back this right, though it was growing stiff. “I saw her punished. She worked off the equivalent of what she stole in free hours of labour.”
Belphegore shook his head, “And her son?” he asked, knowingly, and Zachary kept his eyes to the page.
“Was brought up to my house and attended to by the Palace physicians on my behest.”
“And how is he?”
“Healthy. Happy.”
“Your enemies will perceive your kindness as a weakness.” Belphegore rose and went to the window.
“That’s what it is…” Arlen admitted, “But I couldn’t condemn the woman for stealing from me.”
“Why not?”
“Her child was sick. She did what she thought she had to. Perhaps I am wrong, Master – but I am not of the mind that desperation should be punished. We would all do wrong for the ones we love.”
Belphegore turned to him. “And whom do you think of, when you speak of such love?”
“Why, you master.” Zachary flattered.
“Get out.” Belphegore ordered with a laugh, and Zachary grinned and rose. “You know,” Belphegore added as Zachary made for the door, “Your grandfather was a great man.”
Zachary grew still. “So I have heard.”
“I knew him, briefly. He was revered amongst the last generation of magi. Yes, he was by all accounts a great man, and a great warrior…But he wasn’t very kind. He could not permit that weakness.”
Zachary drew in a long breath. Yes, he knew about that. He known since he was young, even before it had been explained to him; the kind of man his grandfather had been. The kind of men all Zacharys turned out be be. Belphegore gave Zachary a terse smile.
“I am glad that you do.”
The words warmed him, and Zachary stood, stunned and bowed his head in thanks. It was the greatest compliment his master had ever given him, and slowly he felt it form into a white light in his chest. Hope. He realised. And for that, he was ever more thankful.
Thank you for reading. For more on the books, check out the book website at http://www.harmatiacycle.com
If you enjoyed this story, please like, share or leave a comment, and look out for the next one which will be published soon under the hashtag #HarmatiaShorts
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