There were two bathing rooms in the Black Castle. There was a larger one used by the common folk, and a smaller one for the nobility.
Christine was used to bathing in a lake, or with all the other woman in the castle in the same room. It certainly was an interesting experience to bathe in your own tub with a fabric cover on top for privacy. There wasn't even anyone else in the bathroom at the moment, but word had been sent that Erik was arriving that day and Christine wanted to look her best for him.
The canvas above her head was bare. Normally there would be flowers and incense that would waft sweet smells into the bathtub. But the first time Meg had hung them up for her, Christine had nearly fainted from the combined steam from the water and the pungent smell of herbs. She preferred her baths unscented.
As she scrubbed herself behind the curtain, Meg was laying out her clothes and a linen sheet to dry her when she was finished.
To her surprise, there was a knock at the door. Christine lifted up the edge of the curtain and leaned her chin against the wooden edge of the tub, breathing in the hot steamy air. She saw Meg quickly cross the room. She slid to the side the cover for the door viewer. "What is it?" Meg whispered.
Christine strained her ears, water dripping down her face as she tried to hear what the visitor was saying. She barely heard a word.
Meg nodded, closed the flap and turned around again. Christine quickly dropped the cloth guiltily and began scrubbing at herself again.
"Your Grace?" Meg asked, her shadow appearing behind the thick cloth.
"Yes?" Christine picked a wet lock of hair off her shoulder.
"His grace has been spotted, we have an hour before he comes."
Christine blinked. "An hour, yes. Yes of course. I'll be out in a minute." She ducked under the water to rub the suds out of her hair.
Meg was waiting with the sheet once she was finished, Christine wrapped it around herself, shivering. The bath house only had two small windows at one end, but the cold from the winter was seeping in anyhow.
Quickly, she dressed in one of her new linen shifts, an underdress, a new overdress that had only been finished the day before.
Just as Madame Giry predicted, Christine was grateful for the extra hands as she dressed. Her sleeves had dozens of little buttons to do, three times as many as her old clothes had, and it was a relief to hand them over to Meg. She sat hard in a stool once they were finished and began pulling on her hose while Meg brought a comb and began to run it through Christine's hair. She had another sheet, soaking up water as she went so that her hair would be as dry as possible in the winter outside.
"Your hair is so tangled." Meg complained. "I've never seen anyone with hair as curly as yours."
Christine gasped in pain as she pulled a particularly snarled area. "Good heavens." Christine gripped the stool she sat on. "The pricks from the seamstresse's needles is bad enough Meg, must my hair suffer too?"
"Sorry, sorry."
"And use a wider comb." Christine added. "It'll be faster and effective enough."
She heard a clatter and guessed that Meg had dropped the comb when she heard her swear.
"Meg."
She felt the pull of a new comb. "Sorry, it's just, I want you to look nice for him."
Christine chuckled, tying the knot to hold her hose up with a bow. "Let me worry about that, dear." She reached down to pick up her new shoes made of soft leather. "What took so long to get these done?"
"The cobbler finished your shoes this morning. But it's not his fault-" Meg said anxiously, she jerked a little harder on Christine's hair. "The stupid carpenter took a week to make the mold. We ought to fire him- do they fit?"
Christine wriggled her toes inside he shoe. "Yes."
Meg relaxed. "Oh, good."
Christine glanced behind her. "How much longer until my hair is done being combed?" She asked.
"Oh, just a moment- done!"
Christine nodded in relief, shaking her shoulders to warm them. "I'd like the full wimple, it's so cold."
"It is cold today." Meg agreed, she began pulling Christine's hair back to prepare it for a braid. "You know, this time last year I could go outside with my hair down and in nothing but an underdress. Now you want gloves and a coat if you don't want to freeze-" She froze, Christine looked behind her and found that the maid servants chatter had been stopped by the string she held in her mouth to tie the braid off with.
"It is cold this season. But warmer than Sweden." Christine murmured. "I remember wandering in drifts as tall as my head when I was a little girl."
Meg finished the braid, the string fell from her mouth to her hand. "Really? I'd don't think I've ever seen that much snow. It sounds fun." Her hands pulled the hair up into the nape of Christine's neck. "Ready for the wimple."
Christine handed her the cloth, feeling it being wound and tucked till it covered nearly covered her entire head except for her face. Christine stuffed a few stray curls under the cloth on her forehead and stood. Meg grasped her new cloak and gloves.
The cloak was the finest thing Christine had ever owned, it was lined with fur and silk and was made with the finest wool they had in storage. It was frightfully warm, and Christine had decided to wait until she went outside to put it on, rather than in the humid bath room.
They walked quickly down the hallways, servants passing them and bowing their heads in respect before moving on, Christine still wasn't used to that. Some part of her kept on searching for the noble behind her so that she might bow her head in respect.
Once they reached the edge of the palace doors, Christine donned her cloak and kid leather clothes. She flexed her hands, unused to the tight fit. In the past she had worn mittens.
Snow slowly fell from the sky, Christine looked up at the tiny flakes and smiled. Snow always cheered her, it made her think of her homeland in the North. Dhe thought of the long dark nights she had experienced in Sweden, and wondered why the sun left during the winter so high up in the lands.
She and Meg joined the line of servants while they waited for Erik to return. Christine stood side by side with Lady Giry, implying that they were the same rank, while Meg stood just a little behind her.
It only took five minutes for Erik to arrive. He rode in, sitting as tall as ever on his fine horse. Christine smiled as he came, he crossed the courtyard to just a few feet from Christine, the dozen assorted men he had brought with him trotting behind him. His eyes glittered at her from behind the mask.
Christine curtsied low. "I trust your journey was productive." She said after she rose.
Erik dismounted, handing off the reigns to a waiting stable boy. "Enough so, it was not particularly eventful, but it had to be done." He waved off the servants, they all scattered once again.
His hand went to her back, even through that thick coat Christine swore she could feel his cold hands, and he guided her as they walked towards the door. "I hope your time here was productive, I see that you have a new coat and gloves."
Christine paused to lift her skirts to have her feet poke out from underneath. "New shoes as well. I just received them this morning."
Erik's head cocked just to the side. "Really, and what took them so long?"
"I'm told that the carpenter took far too long with the mold."
"Hm. He is slow in everything he does, but he makes fine work." Erik stepped to the side to allow Christine to enter the building before him.
"Meg thinks he should be sacked." Christine informed him, lifting her skirts to make the step.
Erik fell in after her. "Meg is not the Duke of the Black Lands."
"So I supposed."
Blurb. I need to plan the next section of the story. It's taking way too long to write chapters again.
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