I grabbed a pail, it appeared clean, and lowered the bucket, down the well.
“Excuse me! Ummm Sir Lion of White?!”
I turned, and surprised looked down.
It was a snaggle toothed young women. She had messy dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, a frog mouth. She hunched slightly.
Rather the opposite of a noble figure, the skinny girl carried a bucked of water and wore plain white woolen clothing. She carried a large empty wooden bucket
“Ma’am?”
“Why are you fetching water?” She sounded apologetic and refused to look me in the eye.
“I’m thirsty.”
She nervously muttered. “Is that right for a king?”
Which confirmed I was a king of some sort. I would have built a cooler castle to be honest. Not that I was complaining.
I didn’t know and I let her stumble through the situation she clearly found awkward out of morbid curiosity.
“Have you no wines or ales?”
I looked at her still quizzically, perhaps she thought I was threatening. I probably weighed twice as much as her.
“Surly if you wanted plain water you would have your choice of melt and spring from the mountains.”
Somehow my mind was stuck estimating how far I could throw her.
“Well there is water right here.”
“Your majesty wants plain dirty well water?” She sounded like she was going to cry.
“My majesty is rather unaware of alternatives.”
‘Sir Lion of the white’ and ‘Majesty’ were pretty great names, I could get used to this.
Though… I had no memory of ever having drank anything but orange juice and water. Perhaps a milkshake or two when I was young.
If I had to start becoming a hard drinker to remain a king I supposed it might be worth it.
“Good…” I didn’t know the right thing to say. Lassie…” great, I named her after a dog. “Who are you?” I finished bluntly.
“Erm” the homely girl squeeked.
“You are not in trouble.” I comforted, recognizing her youthful fear.
“I work in the kitchen and I came to fetch water for cleaning O Lion!”
She stammered briefly.
“I… I… um have a curse. And ummm, umm, it’s not your fault… but… you are in my way! I’m sorry!”
She was cute despite traditional wisdom on the matter. It would be rude to betray that fleeting innocence.
“Take me to the kitchen. Find me these spring waters you speak of.”
“Of course sir!”
There was an awkward pause, the girl struggled to keep a straight face and finally looked me in the eye. Bucket of water in hand.
“Ma’am?”
She broke down again,
“I can’t walk around you your majesty! You block my path!”
Odd, I stepped aside and gently pushed her by way of bony shoulder to the well.
“Please your majesty, let me show you the way!” She offered.
It was only a the throne room to the hallway and and then a door. I was in the kitchen.
Fortunately it was overflowing with salted goods, healthy produce and full barrels. Smaller baskets of fresh breads, mushrooms, and even strips of cooked meat.
“A pretty sight in here.” I absently mused.
The little mousy cook produced a step stool and produced a flagon.
“Surely the king wants ale!”
“I am thirsty for anything good lass. But you said there was spring water.”
She handed me the entire flagon. I looked for a cup but there were none.
I took a sip. Piss water but clearly alcoholic.
Though I suppose that was how the dark ages stayed hydrated.
I puzzled a little bit, wondering just how the dehydrating alcohol was.
“Here” the little lady… well I suppose she was lowborn and therefore not a lady, presented a barrel to me. “Still flowing spring water from the mountains of Fernando The First!” She smiled. Evidently happy to have found the item.
I was mid gulp “Thank you sweet lass.” I handed her the flagon. “You know water is pure, always preferred it to human mixed swills. Have we any cups? Mugs?”
“You don’t like alcohol?” She was surprised, “what about tea or coffee?”
“Gives me bad breath” the little girl, she would have been barely twenty, if that, was incredulous.
“I thought kings drank every night all the time.”
“I thought so too.” I agreed.
“What about pure liquor?” She asked the “Sages day it is as pure as any water, even purer than snow and ice.”
I had honestly never tried.
“The sages are wise.” I changed the subject.
The young not-lady, took the bait and changed the subject, beginning to yap about different kinds of mixes of alcohol. I found an empty flagon and filled it with water.
It was probably good to be friends with someone in the kitchen. “What is your name lass? You have done the Lion kindness this night!”
“I’m De-Phoebe”
“Thank you De-Phoebe! For this sweet water that quenches as sleep quenches pain.” I held up my flagon of water, she held up the flagon of ale.
We both drank
I wandered off to sleep.
I was going to enjoy the language of the dark age.
I supposed it must be my queen up in that cozy bed.
She said she was lonely.
Maybe it was normal for a king to fear his queen. Part of me hoped that the women up there was some mistress or princess instead of a true queen. But my fear said that was a proper queen in my bed.
I didn’t even know her, fire knives danger and wife were all the same family of words.
I might miss the fast cars of the modern era. Maybe I could get a horse tomorrow, a good king needs a horse.
__ __ __
__ __ __
“What are you humming about?” the woman asked.
I was actually trying to find a good way to ask a woman in my bed who I was.
If I had a bad dream and forgot who I was, would you tell me??
“Why did you forget who you were?”
That was refreshingly blunt. Though she sounded annoyed and businesslike which was not quite the tone I had expected.
“If I knew wouldn’t that mean I hadn’t forgotten?”
“You are the Lion of White, rightful heir to the kingdom, and in fact the king.”
Yea but my parents didn’t name me “Lion of White” did they?
“I don’t understand” the woman, still unnamed in my mind and seeming still smaller than average in my bed, replied.
“What would you name your children?” I asked.
The woman hesitated stopped for about two seconds and answered definitively.
“If it were a daughter I would name her “Fox of Snow most White” or “Goat of the White Mountains.”
This would be a source of disagreement if indeed we were married.
She continued without a hint of self awareness. Which indicated I was the odd one here.
“If it were a son… the White Leopard or Swan Most White.”
I guess my name really was Lion of White, which was a lucky name all things considered. I puzzled at what to say to draw her own name out.
Fox and Goat for a women, clever, rugged and stubborn? Leopard and Swan for men… fierce, proud, aloof?
This woman seemed businesslike and direct.
“And you must be the Northern Bear of the Whitest Arctic.” It was worth a shot.
She giggled uncharacteristically. “I am Dove of White your queen. I am too delicate to be a predator.”
Which didn’t make sense to me, because doves were symbols of peace. But I didn’t question it.
Also she was lying. This queen of mine was not delicate in the slightest. But maybe that’s private information.
Waking up I was reminded of a fear I had.
No toothbrushes. If I truly was a king, my first order of business would be encouraging dental hygiene.