Chapter II
Joachim's remaining two weeks crept by slowly. Every time the sun climbed over the horizon and peered through the curtains and slats of his window, the young nobleman would groan unhappily and pull the eiderdown covers over his face in groggy defiance. Approximately ten minutes after sunrise, just as he was once again slipping into slumber, one of the kitchen workers would abruptly barge into his room, arms laden with a weighty pewter tray which held more food than Joachim could manage to eat over the course of the entire day. Of late it had been the same kitchen maid every morning. Much to his surprise, Norgard did not seem to be repulsed or intimidated by either his appearance or his eccentric mannerisms.
The first time she had served breakfast, she had stood by for a few moments in silence, waiting for Joachim to clamber out from beneath his blankets and into a robe. She piped up cheerfully as he was knotting the cord at his waist. "There was no bickering as to who had to bring your breakfast up this morn, so it's still hot! Your porridge isn't even lumpy yet, see?" Joachim had gone quite still as she had spoken, and he watched in a kind of confused fascination as she took up a spoon and stirred the hot confection. By the time she was lifting up spoonfuls of mash and then dumping them back into the bowl with quirky "plopping" sounds, a smile had begun to creep uninvited over his features. "Ooh and the bread is so soft on the inside, and crunchy outside! It's still warm enough so's you can melt the butter on it, and the bacon has a lovely crisp!" She said the last bit enthusiastically, and Joachim shook his head slowly in bemusement, "I never eat bacon." he told her. Norgard regarded him knowingly with one mischievous green eye. And don't I know that." She grinned and scooped the platter from the tray. "That's why this last little bit is for me!"
With one strip clenched between her teeth, she drew back the curtains and set his place at the small oak table in front of the window. Still perplexed by her forthright and unabashed manner, Joachim took his cane from its bedside holder and shuffled over to his wardrobe. He selected a simple outfit, consisting of a gray tunic and matching pants, and soft brown house shoes. As he passed Norgard, she was busily fussing with the embers in the fireplace. "Ah, blighted…someone's let it go out completely!" She tossed the poker aside in disgust and threw open the door to his chambers, bellowing as she did so, "Franz! You lazy pig herder's get! Who let the young master's fire go out? Get your idle tail in here and stoke it back up! It isn't the place of a woman to lift such heavy kindling…" she muttered the last to herself, wringing her hands in her brown skirts and sighing, her gaze fixated on the heavens. Not waiting to hear Franz's excuses or Norgard's yelling, Joachim hurriedly escaped into his washroom to perform his morning ablutions and slip into his clothes. He could vaguely hear the sound of an abashed young male voice, then the thunk of heavy logs being settled in the fireplace.
A cheerful fire was burning by the time he had finished with his fastidious morning ritual, and Norgard was waiting for him at the table. A breeze was up, and the scent of fresh spring air mingled pleasantly with the smell of breakfast. Joachim inhaled deeply, savoring the feeling of fresh air filling his lungs. The kitchen maid gestured enthusiastically for him to take the seat in front of her. Her eyes sparkled with impatience, and her cupid's bow lips were tilted upwards in a friendly smile.
Joachim took his seat with care, easing his thin form onto the cushion slowly. When he was settled comfortably he laid his cane across his lap and downed a chalice of milk. As he set the cup back on the table, he regarded his new acquaintance with serious lavender eyes. "Should you not be hurrying back to the kitchens? The others are always hurried in the morning, complaining of the cook's tyranny and mountains of chores." He said the last with a slight grin, and wiped his lips with a napkin.
Norgard shook her head and rolled her eyes heavenward, her blonde tresses bouncing merrily in time with her movements. "I'm sure it must be terrible for them, yes?" She reached for an egg, then caught herself, remembering whom she was breaking her fast with. "Oh, you don't mind, do you?" she asked apologetically.
"Not at all, eat your fill." he told her with a shrug. She smiled at him, and her round cheeks dimpled. Joachim was not a particularly shy person by nature, in spite of his secluded life. Any contact with someone other than his father was always welcomed by the young man, who would most likely have been a social person if his circumstances were different and his health not so frail.
The friendliness Norgard was exhibiting warmed his heart, for most of the manor's staff either ignored him completely, or shied away uneasily. He was not certain whether they were put off by him, or by the threat of his irascible father's rage. Whatever the case, Joachim was a gentle soul, and he never spoke up about his treatment, for he knew that his father would not hesitate to have the 'impudent serfs' beaten, or have them thrown out of the Armster lands completely. He did not think that he could forgive himself for causing such trouble, since there were few opportunities for displaced servants in the region. Those who could not find work or a lord to employ them inevitably starved.
He closed his eyes and shook his head to dispel those gloomy thoughts, and when he looked at Norgard again, she deftly cracked her egg and peeled back the shell, never once taking her eyes off his face. Joachim, unaccustomed to such careful scrutiny, made a great show of eating his porridge. "Well," he said between bites and swallows of milk, "This is certainly new. I do not think that I have ever had a lengthy conversation with someone who was neither my father nor a physician." He had meant to jest, but his tone was bitter, and it twisted the meaning of his words.
Norgard had been steadily focused on her egg, but upon hearing these words, she looked at him more closely, studying his face. This time, Joachim was less unnerved by her regard. "You seem friendly enough, young lord. Don't the other servants speak with you while they're going about their chores?" Joachim waved a slender hand, dismissing the title of lord while shaking his head. "Chores? Usually my food is brought in and deposited on the table. The person responsible for leaving it is gone before I am fully awake."
This revelation seemed to unsettle the cheery maid, and an irritated look passed over her features before she schooled her expression into complacence. "Well now, someone has not been seeing their duties to the end." She said this quietly, but there was a hint of anger in her voice, and she chewed her egg with frustrated vigor. As she swallowed and drew breath, Joachim anticipated the question she was ready to ask and he replied to her unspoken query. "It's all right." He shrugged and propped his chin on the heel of his palm. "I would rather not force someone who was uncomfortable with me to spend the space of an entire morning in my company. Besides, it's best that they are out of the way if my father should storm in during one of his more violent moods."
Joachim detected a flicker of unease in the maid's eyes. She dropped her gaze to her lap, and her fingers twisted nervously in the folds of her brown skirts. "The Baron, he's… not above striking those of us who displeases him." she whispered. Biting at her lower lip, she reached for her napkin, and Joachim, overcome with sympathy for another who had endured the Baron's wrath, reached out and squeezed her hand reassuringly. The contrast between the warm peach tones of her hand and the sickly ivory of his own was striking, and he was reminded of his own mortality and the short length of time allotted to him. Just as the pagan god falls during the bountiful autumn harvest, so too shall I die. As he pushed those morbid thoughts back, he looked once more at his acquaintance's honest face. "The Baron is not above striking me either." Joachim told her gently. Norgard cleared her throat nervously, and the connection was broken.
Ashamed of his forthright manner, Joachim released her hand with a sigh and closed his eyes. What am I thinking? She's an unmarried young woman, and a servant! I have no right to place the weight of my sorrows upon her shoulders. Being in the service of Karl Armster is more than enough heartache for any of these people! Still, it is lonely here, and I have enjoyed this morning, which is not something I could say of any other morning. "I am sorry, Norgard," he said, eyes still closed. His lashes threw small dark shadows over his face. "I've no right to trouble you with my grief, and you no doubt have much that requires tending to."
"Yes, sir. I do, and I'd best be about my business now." Norgard wiped her mouth on the napkin before tossing the remnants of their meal onto the tray. She rose from her seat, shook out her skirts and began to bustle about, tidying up small things and dusting off the furniture. Joachim stood slowly and stretched before walking over to one of his bookcases. Though he passed by Norgard on his way, she pointedly avoided looking at him as she steadfastedly changed the bed linens. Perplexed by her suddenly distant manner, he thought it best to let the matter rest.
As he ran one tapered finger down the spine of an old and beloved title, Joachim smiled. The memory evoked by the sight of the book was bittersweet, and he was filled with a sense of nostalgia. He pulled the book from its resting place and carried it with him to the window seat, his favored reading spot. Joachim cared for his books more diligently than a new mother tends to her infant child, and such love was evident as he settled down, placed his cane within easy reach, and tenderly opened the cover to the title page. The words Heathen Superstition were embossed in red. Even though the book was a prime example of Church propaganda, Joachim had been a young boy the first time he had leafed through its pages, and since he had not understood the scholarly theological arguments, he had skipped over them. What interested him most were the multitude of folk tales and ancient legends. This particular volume was illuminated, and gold framed page after page of carefully transcribed text. Joachim brought the book close to his face, and breathed in the unique scent of cured parchment as his intelligent eyes took in the wealth of information contained in each page.
This was how Norgard left him that morning. She moved quietly, careful not to draw him out of his reverie, envying him his literacy, and realizing at the same time that even had she known how to read, books were far too expensive for a kitchen maid such as herself to afford. A part of her was also glad that he had some form of escape from his imprisonment, not just his restriction to this part of the manor, but also his circumstances: cruel father and even crueler illness.
As she opened the door, tray and linen hamper balanced on her hip, she turned to look at him again. He sat perfectly still, the only movement was that of his eyes as they scanned the book before him. A look of childish wonder transformed his normally bitter expression into something that was almost saintly or God-touched. Norgard smiled sadly before she quietly closed the door behind her.