|
Return to Scribblers and Ink Spillers Home Page by Bryant Alexander Leonie groped around in the air behind her, waiting for a junior laundress to place the proper bar of soap into her hand. Just as it occurred to her that she was the only one in the laundry room, someone did indeed hand her a bar of soap. She blew a puff of air out of the corner of her mouth to clear some wet strands of graying hair out of her eyes and looked at the soap. The junior laundresses working under her were all well trained, and when they saw her stick out her hand, they knew what she was hunting for. They weren’t here. She turned around. A tall young man in shiny chain mail stood there. He wasn’t carrying any laundry and his clothes, aside from a mud- and blood-splattered brown cloak, looked clean under the layer of mail. Knights had no business in the castle laundry. But since he’d handed her the soap, she deigned to speak with him. “What brings you down here, my lord?” Leonie asked. “Hardly a lord, madam,” the knight said, tipping his head in something almost resembling a bow. “Just a humble adventurer following the word of prophesy. I’m supposed to come here and speak with... whoever I find.” Leonie put the bar of soap down next to the tub she’d been slaving over. “I’m the only one here for you to find,” Leonie said. “Leonie, head washerwoman of Castle Stupendous. You’ve picked the one day I don’t have a half dozen maids bustling about the place. I’m scrubbing certain items belonging to a certain princess and she... She prefers that as few people as possible see these items, if you catch my meaning.” The man leaned forward. Leonie carefully positioned herself between him and the tub. She didn’t say anything, since she didn’t mind having him lean closer to her. He wasn’t the most handsome man she’d ever seen, but he was handsome enough, with his jet-black hair, neat beard and chiseled features. If only she were twenty years younger... “Ah, well, I’m sure that’s not why I was instructed to see you,” the man said, leaning back again. “I’m called Hubert, and I follow the words of the Goddess Conundra.” “Goddess of Riddles,” Leonie said. “You’ve heard of Her, then,” Hubert said. “Good, good.” “I’m not a follower,” Leonie said. “I’m waiting for someone to build a temple to a Goddess of Straight Answers.” “I’m not sure there is such a Goddess,” Hubert said. “In any case, I just came back from killing an undead wizard in a dreadful foreign land when my goddess instructed me... once I’d deciphered Her latest poetry... to visit the soapy place below the castle and speak with who I find there, lest the kingdom be destroyed.” “I see,” Leonie said. “That almost sounds straightforward, except that I can’t see how you talking to me can save the kingdom from anything.” “I assume you’re meant to accompany me on a quest,” Hubert said. “Don’t you adventuring types usually rough it?” Leonie asked. “Laundry is something you get done when you’re finished with your quest, not during it.” “Well, yes, that’s rather what I was thinking,” Hubert admitted. “But the really great quests, the epic quests that the bards sing about are the ones where the day is saved by someone thoroughly unlikely. No offense intended, of course, but...” “But I’m not a likely heroine, am I?” Leonie said. “I’m especially unlikely since I’m not interested in going anywhere.” “Oh, I know adventuring isn’t for everyone,” Hubert said. “But surely if you’ve a choice between all this soap and bother or the world...” Leonie cut him off with a quick chop of her hand. “All this soap and bother is my world,” she said. “Twenty years ago, I thought differently. This was just something to do until I met some dashing noble in the castle’s halls and got swept off my feet, and maybe even married. But I never got swept, and somewhere along the way, I got comfortable. I’m good at this job. I belong here.” “Yes, but...,” Hubert said. “Are you sure you’re interpreting this prophecy right?” Leonie asked. “You’d get further reading your Goddess’ poetry to your horse than you will trying to get me to leave.” “I’m sure I’ve got this one right,” Hubert said. “That time when I misinterpreted the third line and brought a ferret into the temple wasn’t my fault at all. Everyone else thought it meant the same thing as I did and... and I’m certain I have this one right. The kingdom needs you.” Leonie picked up the soap he’d handed her. “This is far too harsh for washing the princess’ dainties,” she said. “I knew that as soon as I felt it in my hand. Knowing that won’t save the kingdom, but it will save a lot of people from having to listen to a royal hissy fit. The kingdom needs me right where I am.” “And there’s nothing I can say to change your mind?” Hubert asked. “Not a thing,” Leonie said. “I may not be famous, I may never have bards sing my praises, but I’m useful and I know it. Twenty years ago, I dreamed about dancing at royal balls and such. I never actually learned to dance, but when I see the nobles dancing with each other, I know they wouldn’t look that good if not for me and the work I do keeping their clothes clean and mended.” “I could teach you to dance...,” Hubert began. “That might have... That would have turned my head twenty years ago,” Leonie said. “When I was younger and slimmer and looking for someone to dance with.” “A little time roughing it on a quest would slim you down,” Hubert said. “I’ve grown comfortable with my weight, thank you,” Leonie said. “Besides, if the bustle in here doesn’t work the weight off of me, then camping out with you won’t help me any.” She put the rough soap down again and crossed her arms over her chest. Much to her surprise, Hubert undid his cloak’s clasp and handed the soiled garment to her. “Fell in a river getting away from some orcs,” Hubert said. “Filthiest river I’ve ever seen. I don’t think those orcs know what a chamber pot is. Then the undead wizard bled all over the place, which is strange since undead usually don’t have blood. I changed the rest of my clothes before coming anywhere near the castle, but this is the last cloak I have that isn’t torn. I’ll return for it tomorrow.” “Very clever,” Leonie said. “You’ll spend the night thinking up new arguments for me to go with you. I’m warning you, it won’t do you any good.” “We’ll see about that,” Hubert said. He whistled a light tune as he sauntered out of the washroom. Leonie shook her head and tossed the cloak into the tub with the hottest water and strongest soap. As it sank, a million germs carried into the kingdom from foreign lands--germs that no one in the kingdom had any resistance to--died. And thus was the kingdom saved.
Copyright 2009 Bryant Alexander This website and all it's contents are Copyright 2009 Scribblers and Ink Spillers, LLC. No copying in whole or in part is allowed. You may link to this page. |