ch2

When Cogsworth returned to the Maestro's door, he gave it a hard jiggle and found it locked. Immediately he produced the master key, and opened it without any announcements, qualms or hesitation. He discovered the drapes were once again closed, with Forte now dressed, lying on top of his bed, face up with his arms again folded over his face. As the majordome casually strolled into his room, Forte sighed throwing his arms to his sides and looking disgustedly up at the ceiling. "I don't recall asking for anyone to wake up me this morning," he spoke in english. "Certainly not from you; Now that I think of it, I don't recall you ever coming to fetch me before. What gives Cogsy?"

"There'll be no lazing around in this castle," the castle's majordome asserted his authority over his inferior employee. "Belle might have suggested I allow you some time to sleep in but she didn't suggest how long, so I allowed you to sleep an extra thirty minutes. Now, up and at it Monsieur Forte. Come on; up, up, up!"

Forte looked back at the ceiling with a hopeless feeling and heaved a heavy sigh. "What specifically am I getting 'up and at' for, hmmm? I have no purpose here in the castle any more," he sighed again. "I've been striped of my title, and my vocation. I am absolutely useless around here."

"Oh I wouldn't say that," Cogsworth almost tried to sound encouraging. "Before Prince Adam left on his journey this morning, he ordered to have that bloody instrument of yours be brought back into the castle."

Forte's eyes popped wide open as he gasped, and raised his head smiling with excitement, "He is bringing mon coeur back here?"

Cogsworth rolled his eyes in mild disgust. "Oh, is that what you call that thing? Your heart?" he mocked Forte's pet name for the pipe organ. "Yes, yes you will soon have your heart again. Luckily for the rest of us though, it won't be placed inside the thrown room where we have no choice but to listen to that depressing noise of yours."

Forte's smile dropped like a rock. Calling his music depressing wasn't all that insulting, but noise? Obviously Cogsworth could not appreciate true genius when he heard it. But what point is there in trying to explain true genius to a man of mediocre intelligence. Forte chose to over look the remark, but not forget it. "Oh, well then where will she rest?"

"Prince Adam wants it to be erected back in the chapel, where it belonged in the first place."

Forte's smile quickly returned. "That wasn't my doing, Cogsworth. You should remember that."

"I know, I know, as I recall, you were quite disturbed when Prince Leopold ordered the chapel be permanently closed. Didn't you chain yourself to the chapel's door or something, in protest?" Cogsworth turned his attention to the dust on the dresser.

Forte rolled over on his side, facing Cogsworth and propped himself on his elbow, feeling somewhat pleased with himself. "Yes, Prince Leopold was so impressed with my passion that he ordered the organ be placed in the thrown room. He said my actions proved how courageous I was."

Cogsworth didn't look at Forte as he continued to meddle about the room, "I thought your actions only showed how insane you were!"

Forte half way smirked with a quick chuckle and sat up, setting his feet on the floor. He rubbed the center of his forehead then his temples, trying to ease his headache. "Does this mean the castle has a chaplain once more?"

Cogsworth shook his head, "Since there are multiple religions represented within their staff, Adam and Belle feel they would make the chapel as a solemn place for reflection, prayer, and so on. You'll be the court's "maître de chapelle." You will be pretty much the only person there on a regular daily basis, so let's just hope no one ever has the need for any spiritual guidance."

"Oh, I don't know, I think I'm perfectly suited to be the devil's advocate; doesn't that count for something?" Forte joked in his own dark way, as he rubbed the back of his aching neck.

He was beginning to feel like his good old pompous self again. "Now, Cogys, tell me, will I still have access to the court's orchestra?"

Cogsworth folded his arms over his chest and reeled back on his heels. "From this point forward, Monsieur Forte, you will call me, Cogsworth, or Majordome; That 'Cogsy' nonsense will end here and now. As for the orchestra, they are at Maestro Fife, the court composer's, disposal. He's a very good natured lad, so I suppose, if you were to ask him nicely, he might loan someone to you."

Forte grimaced upon hearing the title 'maestro' spoken before Fife's name. The idea Fife was now the court composer was unimaginable as far as he was concerned. Not now or ever would Forte consider that ditzy, country bumpkin he had been so kind as to take under his wing, as an equal. Forte forced himself to ignore the pounding in his brain, or the nausea that continued in his stomach, as he slowly rose to his full height of six foot two inches. Cogsworth stood by making no effort to help, not that would Forte had accepted it if he had.

Along with the hangover, Forte was quickly being reminded of his age. For the past 10 years, he never had to concern himself with aching joints, or sore muscles or an aching back that came from sleeping the wrong way. Slowly, he walked over to the cracked window, wincing in pain as he bent down to retrieve his shoe.

Meanwhile, Cogsworth folded his hands behind his back and puffed out his chest. "I do have some good news for you, Monsieur. A farmer came to the castle early this morning with your coat in hand. He said he found it on a fence post near his pasture this morning."

Forte nodded a little, liking this news as he returned to the edge of his bed to put on his shoes. "Good, good; it is one of a kind, he mumbled quietly."

Cogsworth then smiled like a cheshire cat. "I also have some bad news. The farmer also found your wig, but not until after the cows had apparently chewed on it, then trampled it into the mud. He brought that back as well."

"So, where are they?" Forte gruffly asked as he stood.

"I had the wig burned this morning, and your coat is being cleaned." Cogsworth explained without a smidgin of sympathy for his wig.

"Ach!" Forte face became quite cross. "Burned it!? That damned thing cost me a fortune and you say you burned it!? What the devil am I supposed to do without a covering for my hair?"

Cogsworth sighed in frustration. "I know you haven't seen much of your fellow servants here in the castle so you wouldn't know this, but, no one wears those hideous things around here anymore."

Forte gave him a suspicious look and scoffed. "Really? Then what do they do with their hair?"

Cogsworth leaned in closely to Forte and sniffed the air, as he smugly replied. "They wash it. Which reminds me, how often do you bathe, Monsieur Forte?"

Offended by the question, Forte sneered back, "Once a year, on my birthday."

"And when is your birthday?" Cogsworth asked in a judgmental tone as he particularly eyed the musician's oily hair.

"November," Forte replied practically growled under his breath.

"Hmm, well that explains a few things, the smell for one." Cogsworth spoke under his breath but just loud enough for Forte to overhear.

"From here on you are to bathe and wash your hair regularly, no less than once a week," the majordome ordered in an unmistakably authoritative voice.

Forte's eyes flashed wide open. "One-once a week? Are you mad?"

Cogsworth grinned sadistically, "These are Belle's order's not mine, Monsieur Forte. Personal hygiene is her highest priority for everyone in the castle. We all bathe regularly so get used to it."

"What is she trying to do? Kill us all? No one can bathe so often and expect to live for very long!" Forte insisted frantically.

"I assure you Forte, you will survive a little soap and water on a weekly basis. Unless of course you'd rather look for employment elsewhere." Cogsworth smirked, half way hoping Forte would take him up on the idea.

Forte reared back, looking down on the shorter heavier man, "You'd love that wouldn't you?"

"With great pleasure I would!" Cogsworth eagerly agreed, not concerned for Forte's feeling in the slightest.

"Now, please come with me." Cogsworth turned to walk toward the door.

He followed quietly behind as Cogsworth led him to the basement level of the castle. As they passed other servants along the way, many of them stopped as they starred intently at the notorious madman and whispered to one another, making Forte feel self conscious and uncomfortable.

'Now I remember why I hate humanity so much,' he thought to himself as he looked straight ahead at Cogsworth's back, gnawing his bottom lip. "Say Cogys, where exactly are you leading me to?"

"Over there are the furnaces," Cogsworth pointed out, as they finally arrived to their destination. "Maurice had us break a hole in this wall over here, and had a completely new section added to the castle." Cogsworth explained, apparently not noticing Forte had disobeyed his orders regarding his name.

"This is what we call the 'cleansing house'." Cogsworth announced with a bit of pride as they headed to this new section of the castle.

"Cleansing house?" Forte repeated sorely. "What on earth is a 'cleansing house'?"

"I assume you've heard of bath houses right?" Cogsworth asked stingingly which Forte immediately sneered in disgust.

"Of course I've heard of bath houses!" Forte cringed distastefully. "Loathsome, horrid places. I wouldn't be caught dead in one of those lecherous dens of sinful perversion."

"Lecherous dens of sinful perversion," Cogsworth rolled his eyes and repeated under his breath as they made their way inside. "Perhaps on the side of London from where you came, but not in Bloomsbury. Any how, rest assured Monsieur Forte, there is no, 'sinful perversion,' going on in here. Here is where we come to wash ourselves from head to toe as warm water sprinkles down from above." Cogsworth then pointed above their heads where Forte could see two large metal basins over by the furnace wall standing side by side. One basin was mounted next to one of the furnaces, allowing the water inside to be warmed. Both basins had two metal pipes leading out of them, that gradually moved downward and round the left and right sides of the room. The pipes ran along side of each other, far above the men's heads.

"This is part of the indoor watering system Maurice developed for us." Cogsworth began the tour.

"Water is collected from the lake outside the castle, by means of a water wheel, strained for any debris, then sent to these watersheds. One heats the water before its sent along to the washroom stalls were we can enjoy a refreshing splash to clean yourself off."

Forte rolled his eyes, shuddering slightly, "Sounds dreadful."

Cogsworth gave up on trying to warm Forte up to liking the new changes Belle had made to their dress code. He turned away and then grabbed a burlap sack that had been sitting beside the door. "I assume you have no fresh clothes much less any soap, a razor to shave, or wash towels and rags, so I took it upon myself to ask around and take up a collection of sorts for you." He nearly threw it at Forte, "Here."

Forte felt humbled and out of place. He wasn't used to acts of generosity especially from someone who typically treated him with such distain. He quietly opened the bag to find several items he was in fact in need of.

"Um, thank you Cogsworth," he offered a gentle response with a blank expression on his face.

Cogsworth tried not to look surprised at Forte's show of humility. "Follow me."