Ladies in Waiting, Part 1 - 7
Story by BadTyler.
Originally posted on The Red Thread of Unbridled SVU Creativity. Law & Order: SVU, OZ and assorted other randomly appearing characters are the properties of some major media corporation somewhere.
In memory of Mollie.
Part 1
* * * * *
Author's note: I'm making Olivia younger than she is IRL, because a 41 year old woman in the 12th century would be considered an old hag. Alex, Warner, Casey, etc. are all younger as well. For all intensive purposes (sic), I had to make some minor changes in order for it to flow smoothly. Sort of.
Lady Alexandra tried to keep from smiling as she entered the kitchen of the castle to confer with her staff about the meal planned for the banquet that evening. She knew the servants had been gossiping again and she knew the reason for the quickly stifled giggling. No doubt they'd known for weeks; news traveled fast out in the country.
She swept through the room, a commanding presence that emanated power and confidence; she intimidated most of her household staff. After a quick check on the meal preparation, she headed around the corner to the outbuilding where the stove was kept. One of the kitchen maids dashed after her; Lady Cabot seemed to cause fires anytime she remained in the kitchen for more than a moment or two. "My Lady, there's no need to trouble yourself! You'll ruin your frock, it's terribly smoky in there!"
Alex waved her away, as she would an annoying insect. "I'm not staying long, my dear. Go back to your work. There's still much to do in preparation for tonight."
Her next visit was to the cellar to confirm the amount of mead for the group. They were coming all the way from Glockenshire; a three-day trip in good weather, but it was proving to be a wet and cold winter.
Satisfied that all was in order, she wandered through her herb garden for the pleasing scent of thyme. It was there that she encountered Casieanna, the dairy maid. As usual, the poor thing looked as if she'd smelled something bad. Alexandra approached. "Why so sad, Casieanna? Tis a day for joy. A feast day and a banquet tonight!"
Casieanna regarded Lady Cabot sadly. "The milk has gone off and I don't think there will be enough butter!"
"That's nothing to cry over. Go into the village and get some from Dame Serena. Tell her it is I who sent you."
As the dairymaid ran off, Lady Cabot shook her head. By all that's holy, I don't know where she gets the fabric for those gowns. Poor thing must be colorblind. She smiled ruefully. Back to work. All must be perfect for the eve of Lady Olivia's betrothal.
But why must we marry at all? She wondered. If Olivia is as lovely as she was when last we met, she could have any man in the kingdom, not some coarse pig of a knight! Better still… no man at all!
The thought of Lady Olivia in a man's bed made her head spin. Gradually gathering her composure, she left the great hall and walked upstairs to her private quarters.
Top
Part 2
* * * * *
Lady Alex dismissed her maids and let them know she was not to be disturbed until the arrival of the visitors. Drawing the curtains around her large, soft featherbed, she reclined, allowing her imagination-- and her fingers-- to roam freely. She recalled the first time her nursemaid had caught her in the act of pleasuring herself.
"Tis a mortal sin, Alexandra! Keep thy hands above the bedclothes, or you will surely burn in the Pit eternal!"
Alex smiled at the long-ago memory. The woman had been dismissed the very next day, after she'd told the Duke that the wench had tried to fondle her. If this be Hell, then I am coming home, she thought, as her body found sweet release. If only someone could touch me as I touch myself... She drifted off into a relaxing sleep.
Several miles from the town and the castle, a pair of riders paused at the crest of a hill, surveying the valley below. The one with dark hair and a narrow, suspicious face spoke angrily to his companion. "Well, Master Fin, are you happy now? For we are lost, and night is falling fast!"
"How you do go on, Master Munch. Tis your dour German blood that has you finding doom and disaster where there be none." His companion was darkly complected; originally from a sunnier climate, his disposition and general outlook tended to be more optimistic. "Surely, in a town that size, there will certainly be an alehouse where we can pass the night. Either that, or we ride on to the nearest priory; the monks will always take us in."
"Blast them and their judgment! I wish not to dine upon their meager offerings of bread and thin soup! I need good ale, man... and a good, bad woman to keep me warm tonight... not a flea-ridden hostel of piety. I've had quite enough of that to last me till the New Year!"
They both noticed a group of men on horseback galloping towards them, a pack of hounds hot on their heels. "Who let the dogs out?" Master Fin inquired idly.
"Surely, as strangers, we'll be questioned and then turned away!" Munch wore his usual scowl.
"But we are returning from a pilgrimage... surely they cannot be that cold! Tis just wrong!"
At that moment, a man and woman rode up behind them, appearing as weary and chilled as the two pilgrims. Fin called out to them. "Good sir, good lady, do you know this town or anyone in it? Forsooth-- we are lost and the light is waning. We seek simple shelter for the night."
The man dismounted. "I am Sir Elliot of AssofLife and I am chaperoning Lady Olivia here to her betrothal banquet, by request of her guardian, Count Arthur of Branch. This town is called Hudsonia and the mayor is called Ironbone. It's a peaceful place and on this joyous occasion, I believe any visitors who have no quarrel with the townsfolk will be invited to the feast!"
"Splendid!” cried Fin.
"Surely, we will be poisoned, or murdered in our beds", muttered Munch. Even so, his stomach rumbled-- and as usual, it agreed with Master Fin.
The woman sat quietly upon her horse, saying nothing. A sudden breeze lifted the hood from her face and both of the pilgrims drew their breath in sharply. Tis a lucky bastard indeed, who gets the first taste of those lips, mused Fin. If her rump is as fine as her face, he should get down on his knees and thank the heavens for such a blessing.
"Let us ride together," suggested Sir Elliot. "If you arrive with our party, you will surely be welcome."
A gentle snow had begun to fall as they made their way toward the town. From Dame Serena's cottage, Caseianna led her horse slowly; the poor thing had gone lame. "My little palfrey, don't worry," she cooed. "We'll see the stable boy as soon as we can."
Lady Alex reluctantly awakened from her restorative sleep. Gazing into her looking glass, she noted that her ivory skin was flushed: her icy blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "I am so going to Hell," she whispered, as she rearranged her clothing and hurried downstairs to greet the party on horseback.
Top
Part 3
* * * * *
The group on horseback made its’ way downhill slowly; it had rapidly become darker outside and the snow was falling more heavily than before. Munch, ever curious about unusual situations, casually asked Sir Elliot a question. "Please don't think me a Nosy Parker for asking-- and I mean no disrespect, sir-- but how is it that you, a man alone, are in charge of delivering a maiden to her betrothal? Is it not unseemly?" He feared some foul play had occurred and hoped to be proven right, giving him the means to mock Fin for his trusting nature.
But Sir Elliot explained without hesitation, "My wife, Lady Katherine, has just left us not an hour ago; she wished to spend the evening with her Mother in the hamlet of Foresthills. She has taken our children to see their grandmother and if the stars are propitious, she'll not come to Hudsonia till morning. My wife has the tongue of a viper; I look forward to spending some time away from the harridan." He spat contemptuously before continuing, "But we are expected tonight, as the banquet is planned and the wedding will be day after tomorrow. Lady Olivia has yet to meet her future husband--and she must, of course, spend some time learning about her wifely duties."
This surprised Fin. "Has the poor child no mother, to teach her of such things? For the needs of men are not so simple and she should know what is expected of her as a wife."
Sir Elliot sighed. "Her mother has been dead for some time, and her parentage is somewhat questionable. Count Branch has taken an interest in her life, it seems he was a distant cousin to Olivia's mother. Tis a marriage of convenience; the woman needs a protector. Sir Trevor of Langan has seen her on feast days, although they have never really met. I hear he's quite smitten with her."
"She should be shivering with anticipation then, not slumped in the saddle like an old woman. Do you not find this passing strange, sir?" Fin squinted through the swiftly falling snow. "Here come the knights, then. We'll soon be warm and dry."
Sir Elliot nodded assent. "Yes, we will indeed. And to continue our previous discussion, Lady Olivia does not wish to marry at all. I fear she may be aided and abetted in her stubborn desires by Lady Cabot."
Munch appeared puzzled. "Surely, the lady has a husband of her own?"
Sir Elliot elaborated. "Nay, she is a widow. There was some unpleasantness in the kitchen shortly after the wedding. I've never fully understood what happened, but he died a fiery death. And the two of them married less than a month! Tis a pity she did not bear his child, but Lady Alexandra keeps her emotions well hidden. I suspect a good roll in the hay is just what she needs," he smirked. "But she surrounds herself with womenfolk: Duchess Elizabeth of Donnelly and Dame Melinda, a gifted healer, as well as a midwife-- and easy on the eyes, too!"
Munch remarked to Fin, "This might not be such a bad place to while away the time until the weather is better. But I am still puzzled and sense a conspiracy afoot."
"Behave before you find yourself with a foot up your bum, " hissed Fin. "And for the love of all things holy, man-- try to smile!"
Munch contorted his face, coming up with something more like a grimace. Fin rolled his eyes. "Forget I said it."
Top
Part 4
* * * * *
As the riders were ushered past the gates, Olivia glanced around. Hudsonia was so much bigger that any town she'd ever seen in her sheltered life. Her mother was Basque, and Olivia had spent her early years in the tiny town of Beret, at the foothills of the Pyrenees. They had moved on, briefly, to Bordeaux, before settling with distant relatives in the North Country of England. The circumstances of her birth were cloudy to Olivia, but she hoped to find the missing pieces of her heritage here-- perhaps Branch would be more forthcoming when she was no longer a silly maiden, but a married woman. Olivia's mother's life had been tragic; deserted by the man responsible for Olivia's existence-- one of the most influential men in the British court had raped her while drunk-- she herself became addicted to alcohol. Her life had ended suddenly when she was crushed by a barrel of ale that had somehow fallen downstairs and Olivia had been handed off to one distant relative after another, until now. The benevolent Branch, knowing of Langan's attraction to her, had set the wheels of matrimony inexorably in motion, and Olivia felt helpless; helpless and angry at her inability to take control of her own life.
The wind kicked up again, knocking back her hood, and she pulled it close to her head. She'd recently cut off her waist length hair in a fit of pique, hoping that Sir Trevor would find her ugly and unsuitable, but she held little hope that her actions would change the course of her fate. She turned to Sir Elliot, whom she'd discovered to be a good confidant during the journey, though his wife was no doubt a harpy from Hell. "Sir Elliot, who is to perform the marriage ceremony, Will I meet him beforehand?"
Elliot laid a comforting hand on her arm. "Tis Father George himself, lass! The Archdeacon of Hudsonia himself... you should be grateful tis not Vern the monk; his reputation is not so stellar! Rumour has it that he has a wife hidden away somewhere... with several bastard children, no doubt."
Olivia's smooth, pale brow wrinkled in consternation. "Does that sort of thing happen very often? Do the townsfolk approve?"
"Stop taking it personally, lady. Sir Langan is expecting a fresh young bride, so do not furrow thy brow!"
Olivia shot him a look of pure misery before digging in her heels, forcing her horse to speed up. She did not wish to discuss the matter again. Damn sidesaddle... what I'd give right now to straddle this horse and ride away! She wiped away one Unpretty Tear, composing herself to meet Lady Alexandra. She's probably an old hideous bitch, too, Olivia thought grimly. Just the person to teach me about loving a man…
It was utterly dark and rapidly becoming very cold. Reluctantly, Tobias Beecher the Smithy tamped down the fire in his workshop, rubbing his grimy hands in the waning heat. He was engaged in putting his tools away neatly; there was bound to be little work the following day-- everyone would be hung over from the banquet, gathering their strength for the wedding celebration the day after. Another mead-and-ale-soaked festivity, he thought glumly. Another occasion for... His ruminations were interrupted by Vern the Monk, who slid behind him, rubbing up against his bum. Tobias wheeled around, furious. "Are you not on your way to Glastonbury, sir?"
Vern whispered in Beecher's ear. "I thought we..."
Tobias cut in rudely. "You thought? Jesus Case, don't think, tis when you think you lead us down the path of mortal sin!"
"Don't be angry with me, Toby. Show me your pretty smile. That's a good boy. Say hello to Little Vern… hee!"
Toby sighed. Here we go again…
Several minutes later, Vern left the hut, smiling. Not long after, Tobias walked out, wiping his lips, and spat into the freshly fallen snow. "Vile toad thinks he owns me. Bah!"
At that very moment, Lady Alexandra was ushering Olivia into her private quarters. Olivia began unpacking her few garments and Alexandra gasped in shock. The girl had virtually nothing suitable to wear. "Are. These. Your. Only. Clothes?"
Top
Part 5
* * * * *
Olivia blushed with embarrassment; her wardrobe was sparse, but without enough money, she had only the bare minimum. She turned her head, fighting the Unpretty Tears that threatened to spill from her chocolate orbs. The Lady Alex was no old woman; she was close in age to Olivia and quite beautiful, in an aloof, untouchable way. And yet, Olivia yearned to touch the soft blonde hair, to caress the gentle curve of Alex's cheek, feel the softness of her skin... Alexandra hastened to reassure her, cutting into Olivia's fantasy. She was well known for her practical nature: there was a banquet to be held and a future bride to dress. She circled Olivia, noting the curves of the girl's body, her long delicate neck, beautiful shoulders and magnificent breasts. Olivia didn't move during this appraisal; she was more than a bit intimidated and in awe of Alex's demeanor.
Alexandra turned to one of her maidservants. "Run and fetch those gowns from the antechamber, we may find something we can alter quickly." She turned back to Olivia.
"Strip."
Olivia was shocked, she'd never been naked in front of anyone in her life. "Why? Is something wrong with me?"
"Don't be ridiculous, you're lovely. I just want you to get in the bath before the water cools." Alex then dismissed the other maids, sensing Olivia's discomfort. She took her hand and led Olivia to a screened-off portion of the room.
"We must rid you of the stink of the road and refresh you, after your long journey. There may be time enough for you to get some rest before the banquet starts." She gently helped Olivia into the warm water, scented with lavender and chamomile. Olivia sighed with pleasure; the bath felt incredibly relaxing. She picked up a small cloth and began to run it over her back.
"Let me help you," said Lady Cabot. "Lean back and enjoy the solitude we now share... later, this place will be too noisy-- it will be difficult enough to remain calm. You'll need your wits about you when you meet your husband-to-be."
"Lady, is he truly a fat pig?" Olivia blushed again, she'd spoken before thinking how her words sounded. To her amazement, Lady Cabot succumbed to a fit of laughter.
"Fat? I think not, my dear-- someone has been jesting with you. But he is a tall man-- tall and broad-shouldered. You may not realize the jealousy you've provoked by stealing him away from the many women who wish to bed him."
Again, Olivia blurted out her words heedlessly. "But I don't wish to bed him!"
"Perhaps 'tis your inexperience... you are not familiar with the act of married love, after all..."
"But I am!” cried Olivia, feeling fairly certain that Lady Cabot would keep this disclosure to herself. "And I hated it! Like a turkey neck and turkey giblets turned to stone. The rubbing, the panting, the..."
"I understand." Lady Cabot's fingers sought the places she knew would be sensitive to Olivia. "I do..."
"Yes, you do understand! Oh, yes, yes, yes!"
One of the maids sitting on a bench down the long hall sighed. "She must be as wrinkled as a prune by now; surely Lady Alexandra knows that long baths are unhealthy?"
The other maid, the one who'd been sent for the gowns shrugged, holding up a satin gown of a delicate pink shade. "This one may fit the wench."
They were not summoned for quite some time.
At the local alehouse, Sir Elliot was enjoying hot mulled wine, grateful to be at his destination, more grateful still that Lady Katherine's arrival would be further delayed by the sudden snowstorm.
"Pardon, good sir, is this seat taken?" Tobias Beecher, hands and face freshly washed, stood near Elliot, winking hopefully.
Sir Elliot smiled lazily. "It is now. Let me buy you a mug of ale, or would you prefer wine?"
"I'll have what you're having."
Sir Elliot summoned the barkeep, which greeted Tobias familiarly. "Hello, Beecher. Who's your companion, pray tell?"
"Sir Elliot of AssofLife, meet Old Cragen, the proprietor of this fine establishment."
Top
Part 6
* * * * *
Alexandra and Olivia lay upon the immense, soft featherbed, relaxing after their evening bath. Olivia could not help gazing around the room, with its elegant appointments: the lovely rugs, the beautifully carved furniture, the tapestry wall hangings... and then, her eyes returned to the long, slender body lying beside her: the fair blonde hair, perfect skin, rounded breasts with their shell-pink nipples. Olivia could not restrain herself; she sought one of them with her mouth, licking and nibbling, pleased by Lady Alex's soft sighs. Once again, Alexandra, with her surprising strength, shocked Olivia by swiftly flipping her over onto her back, Alex's mouth seeking her own, Alex's hands trailing slowly and inexorably down into Olivia's most private, secret places, her fingers and her clever tongue boldly going where no woman-- and only one insignificant stable boy-- had gone before. A loud knock on the outer door to the bedchamber startled them both.
Alex leaped to her feet, slipping into a dressing gown the color of a robin's egg. It made her eyes bluer than the sky in springtime. "Just coming!," she trilled, the authority returning to her voice. "Here," she whispered to Olivia. "Put this on... stay there until I call for you!" She opened a chest, found another dressing gown--this one a pale tangerine shade-- and tossed it on the bed. "Speak not of this... " She disappeared into the outer room.
Olivia stood, wrapping the gown around her still-aroused body. It was a type of fabric she'd never seen before, as if a pattern had somehow faded; the light citrus shade was mottled with lighter blotches here and there. Probably something imported from the East, Olivia mused.
The maids, under pressure to begin preparation for the evening's festivities, had decided to override Lady Alexandra's orders, despite the retribution they might suffer. Lady Alex was not unkind, but she could be fearfully cold and angry when disobeyed. Knowing this, they were surprised to see the warm smile Lady Alex greeted them with; surprised-- and more than a little grateful. I'll not be skipping Mass this Sunday, thought Dorcas, the elder of the maids. "Here are the gowns ... This pink one may be wearable without alterations, my lady." Dorcas held out the dress and Alex nodded assent.
"Very good, then. Dorcas, please go to the second garderobe and get out my wedding gown... she might as well try them both on right now."
Both Dorcas and her sister, Mathilde gasped, as if on cue. "Your-- your-- wedding gown, my lady? Surely..."
"Surely what, Mathilde? Surely I'll not be wearing it again. Nor will I be leaving it for a daughter I will not be bringing into this world... Dorcas, go! The child has nothing to wear. Would you have her walk down the aisle bare as the day she was born? Or perhaps we could lend her a suit of Uncle William's armor, the better to protect her virginity?"
Dorcas swiftly left the room, admonishing her flighty sister, "Do as the lady requests and no more impertinent questions!"
When Lady Alexandra was annoyed, she could become quite sarcastic; one might laugh, if one were not at the receiving end of her wrath. Mathilde tried to win back some of the lady's approval. "If the pink does not suit the Lady Olivia, perhaps this one might do?"
The dress was one given to Alex some time ago, from a friend of Uncle William, one Sir Mixalot: it was severely low-cut, with alternating panels of red, deep blue and gold. Alex had deemed it inappropriate for a young widow: it was so low-cut that she actually considered it appropriate only for the sluttish mistress of a lesser nobleman. Too tactful to explain, and not wanting to hurt the randy old bugger's feelings-- he was, after all, a family friend and in these uncertain times, with allegiances and loyalties shifting as the news from the Court changed almost daily-- Alex had accepted the dress, with an eye on giving it to Caseianna, along with a tunic to wear over it. She hadn't found the time, she realized impatiently. Too much going on.
Mathilde, unnerved by the lady's silence, felt compelled to speak. "Tis a well-made gown-- and quite unusual, is it not? Would not Sir Trevor be delighted to find his betrothed in such a vibrant dress?"
Alexandra took a deep breath. "Mathilde-- what your theory lacks in logic, it makes up for in pretty colors! Put it aside; it hurts my eyes to gaze upon it!" The color drained from Mathilde's face at Lady Cabot's reaction.
Lady Cabot called out toward the bedchamber. "Lady Olivia! Tis time to come and try on your gowns!"
Timidly--for she had been privy to the entire conversation since Alex's voice carried well into the next room-- Olivia stepped inside, clutching the dressing gown closely to her body. Lady Alex smiled, knowing exactly what lay beneath the soft folds of cloth. For a brief moment, she savored the memory of Olivia's own soft folds; caught herself up short, and became practical once more. She clapped her hands. "Go now-- take that abomination with you-- find Dorcas and tell her to hurry-- and summon Eames, for we'll be needing her to do our hair. Have her bring my jewelry case-- the small one. Dorcas should have the key."
A short while later, Olivia stood before Lady Cabot in the pink gown. Eames had fashioned a gold filigree of leaves and flowers and wound it around Olivia's short curls.
The gown was modestly cut, but since Olivia was slightly more voluptuous than Alex, it clung to every curve and accented her breasts and hips. "Tis childbearing hips you have, my lady!," cried Eames.
Never, thought Olivia. "Thank you," she told Eames modestly. "These shoes fit quite nicely, too."
Alex studied Olivia from every angle. She turned to the gaggle of giggling maids. "Leave us now," she said quietly, but with the voice of authority. "Go on downstairs with the others... the banquet will be starting shortly."
Olivia stared at herself in the long pier glass, not quite believing the transformation that had taken place. Only a few short hours ago, I was on horseback, terrified of Lady Alex. And now, I may be in love with her, God help me!
"I feel pretty, "she whispered. "Oh, so pretty."
Lady Alex was a vision, in a velvet gown of deepest midnight blue, embroidered painstakingly by Belgian nuns in a pattern of twinkling stars. Her long hair was elegantly upswept, emphasizing her high cheekbones and pale, lovely forehead. She went to Olivia and hugged her gently. "You are more than merely pretty, my darling Olivia. You are-- dare I say it? Magnificent. Here, this is for you. I want you to have it, and to wear it always." She gave Olivia a thin gold chain, set with one perfect diamond. Olivia trembled.
"Will you help me with the clasp? My hands are a bit shaky... "
"Of course." Alex quickly clasped the necklace, inhaling Olivia's scent, a combination of attar of roses and Olivia's own special smell. "Come. The guests await us."
"As does my betrothed," Olivia said sadly.
Not if I have anything to say about it, thought Alex, rearranging her face into a more pleasant, welcoming expression. "You will sit with me, of course, if that eases your worries, Olivia."
Olivia kissed Alex's bejeweled fingers. "It does, my lady. More than you can possibly imagine."
As they drew closer to the Great Hall, the sounds of merriment grew louder and louder, and Olivia squeezed Alex's hand tightly.
Top
Part 7
* * * * *
Lady Alexandra had requested that Caseianna finish her butter churning duties as early as possible, in order for her to help out in the kitchen. After stabling her little palfrey, Caseianna washed up a bit before beginning her tasks: she'd been assigned to oversee the preparation of the numerous platters of food, and to make sure everything was carefully transported from the stove shed into the kitchen for last minute garnishing. Although it was close to freezing outside, she was working up a sweat. She hadn't realized so much running to and fro were a part of the job.
Picking up a steaming platter of roast goose, she carefully navigated her way down the path that led to the kitchen door. As she drew near, the door from the stove shed flew open, and one of Alex's men-at-arms, Ryan Winter-Cassidy, hastily took the platter from Caseianna's hands.
"Let me get that for you, tis the platter from which Brother Vern will be served. It needs special attention." His voice dropped a notch lower. "And may I be so bold, Caseianna, but I must tell you how particularly fetching you look this evening."
This flustered the poor thing so much that she handed over the platter without giving it a bit of thought. She searched for a way to engage him in conversation; perhaps they might get to know one another better. Caseianna was fascinated by Ryan, whose twin brother, Brian Winter-Cassidy, made the local cheese. On market days, Brian sometimes set up his stall near hers-- they both made and sold dairy products. Brian seemed a bit dim, and pleasant enough, but Ryan made Caseianna stutter and blush like a giddy schoolgirl. Well, there would be no harm in trying.
Caseianna batted her eyelashes seductively and briefly touched his shoulder. "Will you be at the banquet tonight, Ryan?"
"Wild horses couldn't stop me... is there something in your eye... let me see." Still holding the platter he leaned down to look at her. She backed away a few steps; if anyone was in need of instruction in the art of seduction, it was Caseianna. With reluctance, she reminded him that the food would be stone cold if he didn't get moving. (Since the stove was kept separate from the main kitchen, in case of fire, the food was generally lukewarm at best.)
Ryan grinned lasciviously, moving in one more time. He kissed her cheek. "You smell delightful, Caseianna-- what is that you're wearing?"
"I, er, um... borrowed some distillation of lavender from Dame Serena. Do you like it?"
"Oh, I most certainly do, but I can't believe it's not butter! I'll see you later then?"
Caseianna tossed her head the way she'd seen other women do; somehow, she managed to put a painful crick in her neck. Why can't something go smoothly for me? T'was most assuredly the position of the stars on the night of my birth, she thought, making her way back for the next platter.
Ryan hurried back to the stove shed. "Forgot some seasoning," he muttered, finding a fairly deserted spot toward the back wall. "Ah, here we are!" He pulled out a small bag that hung from a string around his neck and carefully stirred its contents into the sauce that surrounded the goose.
The bag contained ground glass. Ryan had been working on this project for a while and he was hoping his persistence and patience would soon be rewarded, when the death of... someone in the castle... would be announced. I'll wager tonight I'm going to be fucking that dairymaid, if I can get her drunk enough, he mused. So, either way, it was shaping up to be a most exciting evening.