A Tale of Two Princesses (2 page)

     "Morning, Mrs. Crockery," she said as she slid through the kitchen door in the back.

     Mrs. Crockery was an ornery, middle-aged lady, big in the middle and always scowling. She lived in a house a mile down the road and came to work every day for Banyan, cooking and serving. She was widowed though, and Sienna often caught her and her uncle being friendly with each other.

     "Sleeping late again?" Mrs. Crockery said, shaking her head. "You're putting your uncle in the poor house!"

     "I'm sorry, ma'am. I was dreaming. That old rooster doesn't crow like he used to."

     "Time for a chicken dinner, sounds like," Mrs. Crockery said.

     "Mmm, that sounds good," Sienna said.

     "A chicken dinner for two," Mrs. Crockery said, giving a glare.

     "Yes, ma'am," Sienna said, looking down.

     "Don't pout, girl," Mrs. Crockery said. "You'll have the carcass."

     "Thank you, Mrs. Crockery."

     "Where are my milk and eggs? You've put me behind. We have three diners waiting for breakfast."

     "Sorry. I got them." She put the milk bucket on the table and the egg basket beside it. "Look how many eggs there are. Everyone in the henhouse was working overtime, I guess. Henrietta, Henny, Henra, Henoa—"

     "Why do you name those hens?" Mrs. Crockery interrupted her. "You know they'll go to slaughter before long."

     "I know, but they're still my friends."

     Mrs. Crockery shook her head. She put a pan on the stove, lighting the wood underneath. Then she took one egg and cracked it in her pan. Sienna licked her lips, watching it sizzle. "Over easy?"

     "You'll get it how it cooks."

     "Maybe, um, maybe since there were so many, I could have two," Sienna said.

     Mrs. Crockery laughed. "You're in a joking mood today."

     "Yes, ma'am," Sienna said.

     Mrs. Crockery put the egg on a plate and set it in front of her. Sienna picked it up with her dirty hands, a bit of yolk breaking, stuffing as much as she could in her mouth, wiping up the rest with her fingertips.

     "Done already?" Mrs. Crockery said.

     "Yes, ma'am. Thank you. It was so good."

     Mrs. Crockery exhaled. "I shouldn't, but there's a couple of apples left over from last night, starting to go brown. I was going to chop them up and throw them in the stew, but if you must eat them, go ahead."

     Sienna hurried over to the apples. She picked up the pair, bringing them to her nose, sniffing. "Mmm! Thank you, ma'am."

     "Just remind me when your birthday rolls around this winter that I've already given you a gift."

     "Yes, ma'am."

     "Abigail?" Banyan called as he came through the door. Sienna instantly stuffed the apples down her shirt. "We've got hungry customers out here. Where is that girl with the milk and eggs? Oh, there you are. Took you long enough!"

     "Sorry, Uncle. I didn't mean to dream so late today."

     "You're always dreaming," he said. "Abigail, three omelets up."

     "They'll be right out," Mrs. Crockery said.

     "Thief!" Banyan shouted, pointing at Sienna. "Either you've bloomed overnight or you're sneaking something!"

     Sienna quickly pulled the apples out of her shirt, setting them on the counter. "I, I'm sorry, Uncle."

     Banyan slapped her in the back of the head. "What are you thinking? You're trying to put me in the poor house!"

     Mrs. Crockery didn't say anything; she just glared, and Sienna knew if she told, she might go hungry for a week.

     "I'm sorry," Sienna repeated. "I won't do it again. I was hungry."

     "I feed you. I clothe you. I put you up in my barn, and you steal from me? I've half a mind to throw you out on your miserable backside!"

     Sienna hung her head.

     "Banyan," Mrs. Crockery spoke up, "for goodness' sake, give her the apples. She's only a child."

     "She's seventeen and she's spoiled!" Banyan said. "These apples are for customers! Do you understand?"

     "Yes, Uncle," Sienna whispered.

     "Heaven help you if I catch you stealing again!" Banyan stormed off, disappearing from the kitchen.

     Mrs. Crockery put a bowl on the table. She cracked the eggs, putting the whisk into them. "Well, get over here and be useful. Beat the eggs."

     "Yes, ma'am!" Sienna said, rushing over, taking the whisk.

     Mrs. Crockery smacked her in the back of the head as she worked. "Always have to tell you what to do, can't ever figure it out. Use your eyes."

     "Sorry, ma'am," Sienna said.

     "And salt them, you silly girl!" Mrs. Crockery said, sprinkling salt into the egg mix. "Not an ounce of sense. Bless your mother she didn't have to see what a mess you grew up to be."

     "Yes, ma'am," Sienna whispered.

     "That'll do," Mrs. Crockery said, taking the bowl. "Off you go. Rooms seven and eight need cleaning. You don't want your uncle catching you lounging in the kitchens."

     "Yes, ma'am."

     Sienna slipped out of the kitchen, moving through the tavern. The tables were deserted, and only three seats at the bar were occupied. Banyan was talking to the diners, laughing with them, pouring them drinks. She kept her head down to avoid attention, hurrying to the staircase and up to the second floor.

     There were ten doors here. The one beside the staircase was a closet, which she opened to collect her cleaning supplies, a broom, a bucket, a brush, a duster, and fresh linens. The other doors were numbered one through eight. The ninth door on the end had no number, as that was her uncle's room. She only went in there when he told her to clean it, and then he stayed to supervise.

     She started with room seven. This was the easiest part of the day. She was allowed to clean the rooms and no one ever bothered her or yelled at her or hit her, and she liked to make the rooms look pretty for the guests. She always hummed while she worked, like her mother did when she used to tidy up around the house. Uncle Banyan had sold that house after her mother died. The money had been used to build the chicken coop and buy several other animals, all of which were gone now, save for the last cow. He had lost the rest of the money in a card game.

     The chamber pots were Sienna's least favorite part of this job. She took them out behind the barn, emptied them, and then washed them with water from the water pump. Her uncle always said a good tavern had good chamber pots.

     As she was busy scrubbing, someone suddenly grabbed her handkerchief, yanking her head back, puling it free, her dirty golden hair spilling out around her shoulders. She cried out as she hit the ground, looking up at a man she did not know.

     "There you are," he said between blackened teeth, his face unshaven, his head balding. He smelled worse than the chamber pots. "Saw you again this morning."

     "Please, sir, don't hurt me. My uncle isn't far."

     This man was a usual customer, or at least he had been over the last month, always drinking in the evenings, and sometimes taking breakfast in the mornings. He threw money around like he was rich. He had also been the one who offered her uncle twenty silver pieces for a night in her company. Sienna did not know what keeping this man's company entailed, but the idea frightened her. Uncle Banyan could be a harsh man, but at least he had told this man "no."

     "I don't like hearing no," the man said.

     Sienna climbed up. "I'm sorry."

     "I like you," he said, stepping toward her.

     "That's nice of you to say."

     And then he grabbed her wrist. Sienna struggled, pulling free. She turned and ran with all her might. The man was after her. But then Banyan stepped out of the tavern. She was relieved, and she was so rarely relieved to see him.

     "There you are, you lazy girl," Banyan said, grabbing Sienna's arm. "You're supposed to be cleaning the rooms."

     "I'm sorry, Uncle. I was just getting some water."

     He shook his head. "Can't turn my back on you for a moment."

     Sienna glanced over her shoulder at the other man. He was standing there, staring at her.

     "Mr. Raphael, was she bothering you while she was supposed to be working?" Banyan said. "I'm sorry about that, sir. Would you like to come back in and have another drink?"

     "Nah, I gotta be off. I was just talkin' to her," Raphael said.

     "This girl doesn't have time to be talking." Banyan opened the tavern door. "You get back to work. And if I hear about you lounging around, talking to the guests when you should be working, you're out on the street. Understand?"

     "Y–yes, Uncle."

     He pushed her inside and she stumbled, hurriedly moving out of sight, catching snippets of conversation.

     "Such a lazy girl."

     "I'd like to spend some more time with her."

     "Afraid she's not for sale," Banyan said. "And you'd be cheated of your money. Scrawny thing, not worth the time."

     "I like 'em fresh. How about fifty for the night?"

     "That's a lot, but she's my niece, my own flesh and blood."

     Sienna stepped away from the door, returning to the rooms. She would have to go back for the chamber pot later, but she would wait a while first. She cleaned room eight. Fortunately, by the time she was ready to go back out with the next chamber pot, the coast was clear. Even the tavern was empty now.

     With the chamber pots and rooms cleaned, she returned to the barn. The stables were all empty, except for the cow. She let her out through the door and into the pen so she could graze. Then Sienna went to work cleaning up the stables. She was careful to scoop all of the manure from the horses and the cow and her calf into a large bucket. Her uncle always sold it at a discount.

     After sunset, it was time for the dinner crowd, which was never much of a crowd, but she was still expected to help in the kitchen. She made her way there, finding Mrs. Crockery cooking.

     "There you are," Mrs. Crockery said. "I was just thinking I'd have to clear up myself. Get moving then, cheeky girl."

     "Yes, ma'am."

     "Oh, before you start, bring a bucket of water," Mrs. Crockery said.

     "Yes, ma'am," Sienna said, taking an empty bucket, fetching the water and returning with it.

     "Now, clear off the tables," Mrs. Crockery told her.

     "Yes, ma'am," Sienna said. This part she always looked forward to. Her mouth was salivating in anticipation. She entered the tavern, holding a tray at her side, collecting the dishes on each table. A few of the tables had tips, but she knew better than to touch those. Mrs. Crockery would have killed her.

     "Hey, sweetie," someone said.

     Sienna looked up, her shoulders shrinking. The man was back, Raphael. He was sitting at the bar as Banyan poured him drinks. There were only a few other patrons. She lowered her head, hurriedly taking her plates back into the kitchen.

     Sienna began scraping all the leftovers into a bucket. This was how she so often got her dinner, but even these scraps were supposed to go to the chickens. She always stole mouthfuls when Mrs. Crockery left to bring food into the tavern.

     Afterward, Sienna took her bucket out to the chicken coop, stealing a couple more mouthfuls before she tossed the rest to the hens. Then she gave them fresh water and waved goodbye.

     "See you all in the morning," she told them.

     She filled her bucket with water and brought it back to the tavern. Everyone was gone now, even Raphael, thankfully. She got to work wiping down all the tables with her rag, and then she took her brush and began scrubbing the floor. She always made sure to climb under each table, scrubbing around the legs.

     "Where is that girl?" Banyan said as he came into the bar from the kitchen.

     "Probably out fussing with those hens," Mrs. Crockery said. "I'm off for the night, Banyan. See you tomorrow."

     "A moment, Abigail," Banyan said. "Raphael offered one hundred for her."

     "One hundred?" she said. "Are you going to accept?"

     "Told him I'd think about it. One hundred is a lot, and Lord knows I need it."

     Sienna gulped.

     "She's just a child, Banyan," Mrs. Crockery said.

     "Eighteen in six months."

     "She's certainly never been with a man though. I doubt she's ever kissed a boy. You know you'll ruin her."

     "I ain't seen as many customers all summer. I need the money."

     "Better ways than that," Mrs. Crockery said.

     "It's just one night."

     "Don't go tryin' to convince me on it. It's your choice, but we both know what it means."

     Sienna crawled out from under the table, scrubbing as if she had not heard. They immediately looked down at her. Her stomach was in knots. She didn't know much about men, but she had heard things in the tavern, enough to know what this meant.

     "Sienna," Banyan said, "get in the kitchen and finish the rest of the dishes."

     "But I haven't finished with the floor," she whispered.

     "Don't argue! Get in there and wash!"

     "Yes, Uncle."

     She took her bucket and passed into the kitchen, moving on to the dishes, mostly mugs from the bar. There were only two plates. They both had a bit of food on them, but she was not hungry, not anymore. She washed them quickly, setting them out to dry. The kitchen door opened and Banyan came in. Mrs. Crockery must have already left.

     "Sienna," Banyan said. Sienna did not like the sound of that. Anytime her uncle called her by her name, it was bad. "Finish up and get on to bed early tonight."

     "What about the floor?"

     "Worry about the floor tomorrow, will you, sheesh."

     "Yes, Uncle."

     "And tomorrow afternoon, after you finish with the rooms and the barn, Mrs. Crockery is going to take you into town, get you a fresh bath and a scrub."

     "Why?" Sienna asked. "I don't need a bath."

     "Ey, you're caked brown from top to bottom. You could do with it. They'll put some makeup on you too, do up your hair."