Dirty water trickled over her fingers as she wrung the cloth up over the bucket. The water was long since gone brown with dirt from scrubbing the floors and stairs of the main entrance. After days of rain, the muck from the streets covered the floors bringing the foul smell of the streets inside. There was nothing to do, but to start cleaning.

Elisabeth moved the bucket another step down, picked up the brush and dipped it in the water to scrub down the next step when a couple of Rooks entered the hall downstairs. They were two of Jacob's lads she knew, Liam and Harry. Two of those he favoured hanging with and kept close by his side.

The Rooks were about to leave for some mission or fight, Elisabeth did not know which, as the men rarely let them in on the plans. Only the activity and the bustle of the men preparing told her this was something other than the daily patrolling.

The men entered the staircase and came stomping past her upstairs, engaged in a discussion over the preparations left to organize. As they passed her on the stair, their shoes left footprints heavy with dirt behind, and Elisabeth straightened in anger and frustration.

"Oi! You dimwits! Dry off your boots next time you enter!"

She threw an angry glare after them, but they did not take notice and none of them bothered to turn. Dismally Elisabeth looked at the trail of prints they left and put down the brush. She fished out the rag from the bucket, wrung it up and started to remove the fresh dirt from the steps she had already cleaned.

Outside someone was yelling.

"Harry! HARRY!"

Harry came walking hurriedly back, running the few steps down the stairs toward Elisabeth. He did not wait for her to move, just put a hand to the railing as he leapt over her and continued downstairs. She flinched at the feeling of his boots passing through the air above her head, but before she had the notion to call after him, he was gone.

From the outside came the sound of hooves clopping against the cobbles as a cart was backed up against the door. Harry shortly returned, sprinting upstairs again, shouting for his mate.

"Liam. LIAM! We need another crate of…

Another set of muddy prints lined the stairs.

"OI! I told you to WIPE YOUR BLOODY FEET!"

Liam came out on the landing, throwing her an irritated glare.

"Oh, put a stopper in it will you! We're in a hurry, lass," he said.

Elisabeth stared at him, her blood boiling with anger as he turned on his heel and walked back down the hall with Harry.

Her raw hands clenched the rag, making dirty water to drip down her apron.

They would soon be gone for the day, and then she could finish the job. Soon.

Irritated, she turned back to her work, wiping away the rest of their boot prints, before continuing scrubbing where she left off.

Seething with contained irritation, she ignored the lads as they returned, carrying whatever they needed for the day, downstairs to load the cart.

Elisabeth moved the bucket down another step, stroked the hair out of her face with an arm and started scrubbing again. locks of hair kept falling out when she was working.

Downstairs the two came back inside, evidently finished with their preparations. They leaned against the doorframe, making small talk as they waited for the rest of the Rooks to get ready.

She straightened her back and let out a sigh stroking back the hair again, then wrung up the rag and wiped up the filthy water. When she moved the bucket down another step, she caught a glimpse of the two Rooks standing idle, their eyes clinging to her body as she worked. Her face flashed red, in anger as much as from embarrassment. Scrubbing on, she felt their eyes burn at her back. Their talk receded to mumbling and sly sniggers at the bottom of the stairs. She threw them a glare shooting daggers as she fished up the rag to wipe down another step.

Atop the landing, another set of heavy footfalls approached.

"Greg," Liam said. "Did you dry your boots off? If not, get ready to get your ears warmed. This one is in a foul mood today."

The men downstairs chuckled as Elisabeth rose to her feet, clenching the rag in her hand and seething with anger. If they only knew, what it meant keeping the base in order. If only they knew, the hard work involved keeping it all clean and tidy. However, they had no clue at all. They were men. They would most likely never touch a scrubbing brush or kneel to wash a stair in their life.

Behind her, Greg came jogging down the stairs. "This little thing?" he said. "A wee lass like her is nothing I can't handle."

Passing her, he raised a hand and smacked her bottom. Elisabeth yelped in surprise and the lads downstairs broke out in hollers of laughter.

The blow stung her pride more than her skin but Elisabeth exploded. Grabbing hold of the bucket, she threw the contents down the stairs. The lads scattered to avoid the downpour, yelling in surprise.

A scornful smile spread on her face at getting back at them, but lowering the bucket, a lump formed in the pit of her stomach as Greg slowly turned around. He had caught the majority of the cascade, the back of his short leather coat dripping filthy water.

Harry and Liam, the main perpetrators, glared at her from downstairs, fists clenched in anger as Greg shrugged the water off. Then a low chuckle stole their attention to the door. Jacob stood leaned against the frame, his arms folded idly over his chest, having caught the end of the encounter and now he turned his gleaming eyes at her.

"It's good to see you're feeling up for a fight, Elisabeth, but could you not take on all the lads at once?" he said.

She looked back at him, feeling the heat rise in her face, and wishing he had not been there to see that.

Jacob's lopsided smile lingered as he addressed the Rooks, gesturing to the door.

"Come on lads; we're leaving."

Elisabeth clutched the handle of the bucket as Liam and Harry tore their angry glares away and walked outside, but Greg remained standing on the bottom step.

His eyes, still clinging to her face wore a peculiar gleam and a slight smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he eyed her up and down, before he followed the others out the door.

Elisabeth let go her breath and pressed the back of a hand against her cheek, trying to cool down the flushed skin. She did not regret dousing Greg, but that smile was disconcerting. She wondered what it meant.

She waited until she heard the horse's hooves clopping against the ground as the wagon drove off, and then she walked down stairs to mop up the water pooling in the dents and worn-down patches of the hallway floor. At least she could finally finish scrubbing the floors in peace.