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OH, SHE’S UP EARLY this morning. I think the feast rattled her cage more than she likes to let on. I can’t say that I blame her. In all the years I’ve been looking after her she’s probably talked about it less than five times.
The call came down from one of the little maids that she was awake. Everleigh likes to sleep on her own, which is unusual. The King, the would-be Kings and little Addyson all have bed mates – though the King’s and the would-be Kings mates sleep on pallets on the floor. They are there in case they need anything in the night. Addyson’s sleeps in with her to keep her warm and to stop her feeling scared of the dark.
Everleigh likes her privacy, so I go down to the kitchen every night, there’s a room off it that Cook let me make my own. It suits me. We do have some fun in there, let me tell you, especially last night. I had a cheeky little visitor, but that’s another story.
Anyway, one of the little maids sleeps on a pallet just outside Everleigh’s room, in case she wants anything in the night. Or early in the morning – I think this is the earliest she’s ever woken. That I can remember anyway.
Course, last night was the feast and the party lasted well in to the early hours. I’ve probably only had three hours of sleep. If that.
What happens is the Cook and all the kitchen maids prepare food – it took them a week to get ready for this feast. As each plate comes back from the great hall, Cook sees what’s edible and puts it to one side.
The plates are passed around all the guests, though the royal table is always served first. If they like someone or a guest is proper important they will send a dish their way. But really there’s plates and plates and plates of stuff and it all gets passed around.
When it comes back some of it’s all mangled and Cook will give it to the dogs. Anything decent she sets aside for us. She does it every day but with this feast, there was a banquet left over.
So, by the time I’d got Everleigh off to bed, the feast was still going strong and I was happy to be a part of it. The singers sang again, the dancers danced again. The cheeky fool – the King thought he would upset Everleigh – came on and had us in fits of giggles larking about.
I kept serving the royal table for a while until Cook called me back to the kitchen to help her.
He’s a right card Millard. At one point, he pulled me on to his lap and sang to me. The King just rolled his eyes, but Millard did give me a little squeeze before he put me down. And oh, if I was a bit older and not a maid I could fall in love with those eyes.
But then I was called in to the kitchen to help, which wasn’t so much fun. Cook told me which dishes to keep and which to pass to the dogs. It was a feast for them too.
So once the dishes were all back and the little maids had cleared the hall, we were ready to keep going. Cook even sang last night. She’s got a lovely voice – though you wouldn’t think it to look at her – she looks awful harsh, but she’s soft as butter inside.
So, we ate too much, and we drank too much and we all danced, and some of us sang – not me – and a few of the older boys and girls were kissing and larking about.
I’m not as close with the maids as they are to each other, I spend a lot of time with Everleigh and I don’t have much time to myself. I am lucky that I get nights in the kitchen. I am very well fed for a handmaiden and I find company when I need it. Often, that company is Cook. She never married, see, and works, lives and sleeps in her kitchen. Technically she sleeps just off it, in a little box room, next to mine, but often she cooks through the night, if the King is peckish or one of the princes is hungry after a hunt, so she often sleeps in her chair by the fire. Most nights I curl up at her feet and we talk about all things under the Realm. She knows everything, does Cook, though she gets fed up of me asking questions. I can’t help it, it’s in my nature.
Everleigh is well educated for a girl. Seeing as she was dying they never worried about filling her head with nonsense or teaching her more than her husband might know and showing him up. But Everleigh knows learned things, like the Great War, or how to play a lute, or blah, blah, blah. Cook knows the good stuff. The interesting stuff. It’s Cook that reckons Macsen is soft in the head. It’s Cook that knows that the King can’t bear to look at little Addyson. It’s Cook who knows that the youngest of the King’s men, Brett, has an eye for Everleigh. Brett is handsome and fit but mean. I saw him kick one of the dogs once when he thought no one was looking and though he makes puppy eyes at Everleigh, it’s never gonna happen, so I haven’t even bothered to warn her off him. He’s a funny one. He wins all the tourneys and all the girls are wild for him. But he doesn’t even look happy. He doesn’t look twice at me, so I get to watch him, and his eyes are just flat. All the King’s men gather round him and he’s always in the thick of it but there’s something off about him.
Unlike my new friend. Fine, I’ll tell you – I know you’re dying to know. Now I’m only young and I’m a good girl. Some of the girls who work here are not good. I hope you know what that means, because I won’t say it and we can’t help but laugh and gossip about them. All the little maids are good, mind you, but some of the older ones are trouble. And the castle is full of handsome men and good looking strangers. If I was that way inclined, I could go out into the courtyard and whistle and find five men who’d be happy to tell me they love me.
But I would never do that. This will sound stupid, but I’ll say it anyway. Everleigh is my best friend and the person I am closest to, apart from Cook. And she won’t admit it, but she must be so sad about being Kingmaker. She will never love a man. She’ll never be wooed or kissed or courted. She will never marry or bear children. And one day, probably when we were still little, I thought to myself that I would be like Everleigh. There must be a better word for it or way to explain it, but I would live like she lived, and I would stay away from love too, kind of like keeping her company or something.
And I have. Till now. But now there have been a few sneaky kisses, but only because a boy I haven’t seen before is slipping me so much raspberry gin that I feel woozy. Then he’s telling me how pretty I am and he’ll lean in right close, because I can’t hear him proper and then his lips will be on mine. But a kiss is all he’ll have off me. This new fellow. I have never seen him before; he must be here for the feast. He is right up my street. Two years older than me, blonde hair and deep brown eyes. And sweet and kind and funny. He listens to what I got to say and though most of it’s nonsense I like having someone listen. Cook will talk, and I will listen. Everleigh talks and mostly I listen. I wait on everyone in the hall at mealtimes and I listen to everyone around me telling their tales.
But he listens to me. I am enjoying having someone that’s there just for me. He has promised me he will look for me every evening after supper and I will be somewhere he will find me.
Anyway, last night ended up going on and on and on until Cook finally ordered us to our beds and then Everleigh woke me up early.
I feel so groggy. I reckon I drank more last night than I have drunk altogether the whole way through my life. I think I may still be drunk.
Oh, it was good though. Cook was saying that poor Everleigh coped well with the feast, mind you.
She did. It must have been right scary, but she kept smiling.
I still can’t believe it’s almost time. Yesterday it was six days to go; now we’re a day less already. This time is going to fly by and oof, are we going to be busy. The castle is so full now we’re in the run up to Everleigh’s death day. We’re all run off our feet. Cook is in a right pickle. There’s so much to do with food and drink to keep all these visitors happy.
There’s food coming in from all over the Realm because we could never get enough on our own. The bakers and the cake makers are up from three in the morning preparing things and baking and of course they do need a bit of help to taste things, especially the new things they’re cooking up. They’re mixing tastes I’ve never tried before, like yesterday I tried a ham and jam tart. The hunters are bringing in game daily and the butchers are hanging, salting and then cutting it. Cook has sent the fishermen out every day and there are hundreds of dead fish stinking out the back room behind the kitchen. I can’t even go in there anymore. I don’t want to breathe in the smell of them.
Cook has made me go out and pick vegetables and flowers every day for weeks now. She needs everything that grows between now and then and if a slug gets to a lettuce before me, I can look out. I’ve got bruises on the inside of my arms because the basket’s so heavy.
She is right scary now. I’m hiding whenever I can and blaming my not being there on Everleigh. Cook’ll never know.
She reckons all the visitors that came to the feast will be back for the death day. And she reckons there’ll be even more besides. Every day there’s hundreds of horses riding out, with the smartest men on them, taking messages to all corners of the Realm. Lots of important people will be coming. It’s so exciting and so heart breaking.
There’ll be the sacrificial ceremony on Saturday morning, which I’m not looking forward to – I think I may hide away in my little room and not watch it. After that there’s some Mourning Parade where they lay out Everleigh and whichever brother dies and carry them down through the village so that everyone can see them.
I was with my friend last night, walking, talking, and around the back of the stable block they’re making the things they’ll lay on when they’re dead. I don’t know what they’re called – I’ll have to ask Cook. But they’re wooden, a bit like beds. On the floor, next to them the little maids are putting together circles of flowers. There’s a pile of them. I guess they’ll lay them on top of them or something before they go out to sea.
I must say I find it all a bit grim. It must be affecting Everleigh – how could it not. All her life she’s been special but only because they’re gonna kill her. And what a way to go. Dead in front of the whole Realm.
Anyway, they have another feast after they walk around with the two dead ones – this one’s a bit jollier, so Cook reckons. Though how any of us will feel jolly I don’t know. I’ve thought before that I’d stay and hopefully work for Millard or Macsen if he’s crowned – though I doubt it – but now I’m not sure if I’ll go away. Maybe find a great house – there’s always somewhere that needs a handmaiden. I just don’t know if I’ll be able to stay here without seeing her ghost everywhere.
Anyway, in this feast they crown the new King and say goodbye to the old one. Ooh, they do like their feasts and ceremonies this lot. I’ll be glad when it’s over and life can get back to normal. Normal-ish.
Oh, I can hear Cook yelling for me. She has the shrillest voice when she’s mad. I’m not going yet. My feet are right sore. Look, I bet if I take off my shoes I’ll have blisters the size of grapes. Wait. Yes, look at my poor feet. Blisters there, there and there.