The Cabbage Girl
Chapter Ten
They camped in the valley that
evening, at the outside edge of the old ruins. Sir Gomly explained that this
would conceal them a bit from anyone who might be looking for them if their
pursuers weren’t already in the valley itself.
While this made sense to Emlin, she
began to question it once the sun dipped below the hills that they had just
passed. In the gloaming light of fading day, the old masonry began to take on a
sinister appearance, and broken bits of stonework began to look more and more
like leering faces peeking from the shadows of monolithic walls
Albrecht’s ribs seemed to be doing better and his eye had mostly healed from Emlin’s jab with her thumb, so he volunteered to take first watch while Korbinian went to work preparing supper.
“Why does Korb always do the cooking?” Emlin asked Albrecht as he sat on the camp’s edge looking into the waning light.
Albrecht shrugged.
“He’s the youngest son of an innkeeper from Allindorf,” he answered.
“Allindorf?”
“It’s a town on the opposite side of Meereslande. Lots of cows.” Albrecht waved a hand in front of his face and grimaced, causing Emlin to laugh.
“He wasn’t likely to inherit anything, being as he had four elder brothers,” Albrecht continued. “But his parents put him to work in the kitchens until Sir Gomly offered to take him off his father’s hands and squire him. If I recall correctly, there had been some kind of uprising in the area recently and trade had gotten rather scarce after the Dunkelgraf’s soldiers responded by burning down half the town. So they were happy to be rid of an extra mouth to feed. And, to be honest, we needed someone who could cook better than I did.” He shrugged and smiled as he said the last bit.
“I thought squires were all supposed to be noble-born,” Emlin said.
“They don’t have to be, at least not in Meereslande. Do you think Sir Gomly was a noble?”
“I guess not,” she replied.
“The knight that Sir Gomly squired under bought him off of a merchant ship. The crew had kidnapped him from his home because the captain wanted a cabin boy. He had been scrubbing the decks for nearly a year before that.” Albrecht picked up a piece of lemongrass and put it in his mouth, chewing it as he continued to speak.
“In Meereslande, knightly orders are free to recruit from wherever they choose. Some, of course, only take noble-borns or the sons of other knights. But Sir Gomly is of the Errant Order of the Red Boar, as was his master before him, and they take their squires from wherever they choose.”
Emlin thought about that for a bit, then inquired:
“What about you, then?”
“Me? My father was a woodsman, up in the Nordlichwald. So, I was raised to put axes into trees.” The squire sighed, his eyes staring far off at nothing. “At least until the plague came and killed my father. My mother remarried and sent me and my brother and sisters to live with our uncle at his farm, being as her new husband didn’t want to raise some other man’s children.”
“I’m sorry,” Emlin said.
Albrecht shook off his reverie and shrugged again, feigning apathy.
“Anyway, that’s where Sir Gomly found me, shoveling pig-shit as punishment for disobeying my uncle again.”
“Shoveling pig-shit?” Emlin asked incredulously.
Albrecht turned and looked at her, very serious:
“I’ll have you know that the shoveling of pig-shit is an honorable art, as old as the kingdom of Meereslande.”
The Cabbage Girl rolled her eyes at him, and they both began to laugh.
* * * * *
Emlin left Albrecht to his guard duties as it grew dark and came in towards the fire that Korbinian was tending while he cooked their evening meal. She helped Ishild out of her boots and cleaned her feet of road dust. There was no blood on Ishild’s feet tonight, but she did have some blisters that needed lancing and wrapping, which Emlin was happy to do.
Balduin sat at the edge of the firelight, throwing small stones at the two girls when he thought they weren’t looking. Every time Emlin looked up at him and told him to stop, he sneered back at her and threw another rock once she went back to work. This continued for nearly an hour, until Sir Gomly caught the boy at it and cuffed him on the back of the head.
The group sat in silence as they ate their stew of boiled cabbage and mutton that was starting to taste a little too old. Whether the silence was due to exhaustion from their travels or a sense of foreboding brought on by the old ruins was not entirely clear.
Emlin’s stomach started to hurt before she was halfway through her meal. She chalked it up to muscle ache from the long days of walking and scooted closer to the fire, which seemed to alleviate the soreness a little bit.
Staring into the flames as the night grew ever darker, Emlin didn’t realize that she had fallen asleep until Albrecht, returning from his shift as guard, woke her up and told her to go lay down by Ishild, who lay under a blanket nearby.
Stumbling over to the make-shift bed, Emlin became aware of quite how cold it had grown in the night and how upset her stomach seemed to be. She climbed under the blanket, shivering as she pressed close behind Ishild, and, after a moment’s hesitation, put her arm around the noble girl’s waist. The Cabbage Girl fell back to sleep feeling warm with her face buried in the soft scent of Ishild’s smooth hair, wondering if Korbinian was such a great cook that he had managed to poison her with spoiled meat.
* * * * *
Then she woke with a start.
It was still black out, and the fire had mostly died down to embers and coals, giving off only faint reddish light. Stars shown in the sky above, white lights twinkling in the blue-black dome above her, and a faint breeze whispered through the leaves of the trees. Emlin was about to let herself slip back into sleep, still curled around the other girl, when she felt something heavy move over her feet.
Her breathing froze, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
There was a faint snuffling noise around her lower legs.
Very slowly and carefully, the Cabbage Girl forced her eyes open and turned her head ever so slightly to look down the length of her own body.
She saw a boar’s face in the ruddy ember-light, and, for a moment, felt relief as she assumed it to be a wild pig of some kind that wandered into camp.
But then it crouched up and she could see that its body was built like a man’s. And it began to tug at the bottom of the blanket, pulling it down the two young girls’ shoulders in the dark.
Albrecht’s ribs seemed to be doing better and his eye had mostly healed from Emlin’s jab with her thumb, so he volunteered to take first watch while Korbinian went to work preparing supper.
“Why does Korb always do the cooking?” Emlin asked Albrecht as he sat on the camp’s edge looking into the waning light.
Albrecht shrugged.
“He’s the youngest son of an innkeeper from Allindorf,” he answered.
“Allindorf?”
“It’s a town on the opposite side of Meereslande. Lots of cows.” Albrecht waved a hand in front of his face and grimaced, causing Emlin to laugh.
“He wasn’t likely to inherit anything, being as he had four elder brothers,” Albrecht continued. “But his parents put him to work in the kitchens until Sir Gomly offered to take him off his father’s hands and squire him. If I recall correctly, there had been some kind of uprising in the area recently and trade had gotten rather scarce after the Dunkelgraf’s soldiers responded by burning down half the town. So they were happy to be rid of an extra mouth to feed. And, to be honest, we needed someone who could cook better than I did.” He shrugged and smiled as he said the last bit.
“I thought squires were all supposed to be noble-born,” Emlin said.
“They don’t have to be, at least not in Meereslande. Do you think Sir Gomly was a noble?”
“I guess not,” she replied.
“The knight that Sir Gomly squired under bought him off of a merchant ship. The crew had kidnapped him from his home because the captain wanted a cabin boy. He had been scrubbing the decks for nearly a year before that.” Albrecht picked up a piece of lemongrass and put it in his mouth, chewing it as he continued to speak.
“In Meereslande, knightly orders are free to recruit from wherever they choose. Some, of course, only take noble-borns or the sons of other knights. But Sir Gomly is of the Errant Order of the Red Boar, as was his master before him, and they take their squires from wherever they choose.”
Emlin thought about that for a bit, then inquired:
“What about you, then?”
“Me? My father was a woodsman, up in the Nordlichwald. So, I was raised to put axes into trees.” The squire sighed, his eyes staring far off at nothing. “At least until the plague came and killed my father. My mother remarried and sent me and my brother and sisters to live with our uncle at his farm, being as her new husband didn’t want to raise some other man’s children.”
“I’m sorry,” Emlin said.
Albrecht shook off his reverie and shrugged again, feigning apathy.
“Anyway, that’s where Sir Gomly found me, shoveling pig-shit as punishment for disobeying my uncle again.”
“Shoveling pig-shit?” Emlin asked incredulously.
Albrecht turned and looked at her, very serious:
“I’ll have you know that the shoveling of pig-shit is an honorable art, as old as the kingdom of Meereslande.”
The Cabbage Girl rolled her eyes at him, and they both began to laugh.
* * * * *
Emlin left Albrecht to his guard duties as it grew dark and came in towards the fire that Korbinian was tending while he cooked their evening meal. She helped Ishild out of her boots and cleaned her feet of road dust. There was no blood on Ishild’s feet tonight, but she did have some blisters that needed lancing and wrapping, which Emlin was happy to do.
Balduin sat at the edge of the firelight, throwing small stones at the two girls when he thought they weren’t looking. Every time Emlin looked up at him and told him to stop, he sneered back at her and threw another rock once she went back to work. This continued for nearly an hour, until Sir Gomly caught the boy at it and cuffed him on the back of the head.
The group sat in silence as they ate their stew of boiled cabbage and mutton that was starting to taste a little too old. Whether the silence was due to exhaustion from their travels or a sense of foreboding brought on by the old ruins was not entirely clear.
Emlin’s stomach started to hurt before she was halfway through her meal. She chalked it up to muscle ache from the long days of walking and scooted closer to the fire, which seemed to alleviate the soreness a little bit.
Staring into the flames as the night grew ever darker, Emlin didn’t realize that she had fallen asleep until Albrecht, returning from his shift as guard, woke her up and told her to go lay down by Ishild, who lay under a blanket nearby.
Stumbling over to the make-shift bed, Emlin became aware of quite how cold it had grown in the night and how upset her stomach seemed to be. She climbed under the blanket, shivering as she pressed close behind Ishild, and, after a moment’s hesitation, put her arm around the noble girl’s waist. The Cabbage Girl fell back to sleep feeling warm with her face buried in the soft scent of Ishild’s smooth hair, wondering if Korbinian was such a great cook that he had managed to poison her with spoiled meat.
* * * * *
Then she woke with a start.
It was still black out, and the fire had mostly died down to embers and coals, giving off only faint reddish light. Stars shown in the sky above, white lights twinkling in the blue-black dome above her, and a faint breeze whispered through the leaves of the trees. Emlin was about to let herself slip back into sleep, still curled around the other girl, when she felt something heavy move over her feet.
Her breathing froze, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
There was a faint snuffling noise around her lower legs.
Very slowly and carefully, the Cabbage Girl forced her eyes open and turned her head ever so slightly to look down the length of her own body.
She saw a boar’s face in the ruddy ember-light, and, for a moment, felt relief as she assumed it to be a wild pig of some kind that wandered into camp.
But then it crouched up and she could see that its body was built like a man’s. And it began to tug at the bottom of the blanket, pulling it down the two young girls’ shoulders in the dark.
(All writings on this website are © 2011, 2012, 2013 and may not be copied, printed, or reproduced in any fashion without permission. Images belong to their original creators and/or owners.)
