Chapter Three

I followed Bryce through the broad portico; a heavy wooden door kept open to air out the

castle. My eyes took a moment to adjust from the brightness outside to the dimness inside.

Floral scents assail my nose, making me glance around the room for the source. Strewn

across the stone floor were fresh flowers and hay. I remember from research and reading about

the flora on the floor, and these were called "rushes."

In Medieval Times, there were no factory looms, making carpets too expensive to

purchase. To keep the castle smelling sweet and warm, the people placed rushes down on the

floor; however, this did not help with the fleas, rodents, and the many other undesirable creatures

infiltrating inside the castle walls. It must be springtime because the flowers and hay were fresh.

I was standing in a vast hall. At the end of the room, on a small dais, were two wooden

chairs carved to imitate thrones. Lining the walls, leading up to the thrones were rich tapestries.

On one side of the hall is a massive fireplace with a broadsword hanging over the mantle. The

sword's metal gleams, apparently well maintained by the current Duke.

"This way, Page," Bryce's voice is taking my attention away from the sword to focus on

his figure disappearing through an open doorway. The entrance opens into a narrow spiral

staircase that I ascend, the tiny arrow-slits in the wall barely lighting the way. I follow him up the

narrow staircase to the third-floor landing, my gluteus muscles protesting under the exertion. The

stairs keep climbing upwards past the landing. I'm glad nobody is coming the other way!

I follow Bryce down a passageway, barely ample enough to fit two people passing each

other. One wall is the outer wall with more arrow-slits allowing the midday sunlight to shine

through. On the opposite side between each arrow-slit are wooden doors.

Bryce enters the door closest to the stairwell, which makes tactical sense. He can move

decisively between the castle levels, or his commanders could easily access him for military

decisions if the castle is ever under siege.

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I followed the lord of the castle, seeing I had entered his study. Two lit candle holders on

the far wall are illuminating a wooden desk with parchment and quill, and a bookshelf is behind

the cushioned desk chair filled with tomes of different sizes. The printing press does not exist.

Therefore, all the leather bounded manuscripts were carefully written down in pen and

ink by monks. The many books lend credence to the wealth of this Duke because books were not

cheap. The skill and the labor behind each book had taken months, if not years, to complete. I

was itching to open one and admire the artistry of the person who penned it. Later.

Bryce walks by his desk, and opens another wooden door, leading into his bedroom. The

room was of a generous size, fitting a full bed covered with expensive linen, and a bear rug lying

underneath the wooden bed frame with the head still attached. Lovely.

A few trunks are lining one of the walls, and on the opposite side is a small, empty

fireplace. In a corner, as if on display, was the lord's armor on a wooden pole with arms. The

armor itself was a work of art with swirling gold filigree embedded into the shiny steel.

Underneath the armor was chain mail, also of high quality. The chain links were so small the

weave bears semblance to one of the magnificent tapestries hanging downstairs.

The only downside of the room was the lack of windows. Meaning, a couple of candles

were lit around the room. Another demonstration of the power and wealth of the Duke because

the candles were made from wax and not tallow. Tallow candles were made of animal fat,

creating a dark smoke with a dreadful fragrance. Wax candles burn cleanly, but they were much

more expensive to obtain.

The Duke stops in front of his bed and turns to me. "Page, you will sleep here," and he

motions to a small pallet on the floor. "You will rise before me each day, making sure my

exercise clothes for the mornings are always clean and ready for me to wear. You will find them

in that chest," he points to one of the trunks next to the wall, and continues, "You will also

practice a combat skill when I am training. We will break our fast, and after, I will train on the

tiltyard. You will ready Brimstone and hand me my lances. You will cool my horse, clean my

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saddle, and promptly return to the training yard to practice the bow. Around mid-noon, after we

eat, you will return to the castle with me and perform page duties." He stops listing my tasks,

observing the confusion on my face when he mentioned, "Page duties."

"Boy, you will clean my armor, sword, spurs, chain male, and anything else I will task

you. You will serve me when it is time to sup in the hall, and before bed, you will undress me

and help me bathe." Uh? What?

The Duke doesn't notice my discomfort at the thought of seeing him naked and continues

to speak. "Always ensure I have fresh water and clean clothes at least three times a day. There is

a water pump in the kitchen that you can use to draw clean water. You will perform laundry duty

on Sundays after mass because we do not train on Sundays. Every Sunday, I hold court in the

hall to listen to legal cases, and disputes of my denizens or accept their offerings. After court, I

gather all my knights and squires. Each of them is required to read a passage from the Bible and

to interpret the meaning. I do not keep ignorant or lazy fools in my castle." He frowns at me in a

warning.

I swiftly nod my head, showing my understanding of the threat. I am in a time and place

where I cannot wander the countryside, by myself, unmolested. The English roads were packed

with thieves and bandits because the King's justice cannot reach them. There is safety in

numbers, and being part of a Duke's household will offer me some type of protection.

"Any questions, Page?"

"No, my lord." Yes! Do I have to view you naked? The thought sends heat to places in my

body that I swore I would keep dead. I cannot involve myself with this man!

"Superb. Now, grab a book from my library and demonstrate your literacy. My last page

was uneducated and simple-minded, even though he could somewhat read. I want to identify

where you are in terms of education."

"Yes, my lord!" Too happy to oblige, and I swiftly return to the Duke's office, standing in

front of the bookshelf, trying to decide what book would show-off my 21st Century education.

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My eyes fall on Homer's "The Odyssey." Perfect! I snatch the leather-bound book and

return to the bedroom. Once inside, Bryce is sitting on a wooden seat with an empty stool beside

him. He is sitting close to one of the burning candles on a floor stand.

"What book had you chosen?"

"'The Odyssey,' my lord," I tell him, trying to keep my voice neutral and bored. I do not

want to give away my eagerness to prove my higher education.

"Very well. Sit, and you may begin," Bryce states while studying me curiously. I can

visualize the clock wheels turning in his head, trying to decide if I am capable of understanding

the complex poem. I like a challenge!

I sit, ignoring the warmth spreading through my body as I lie close to Bryce, opening the

tome, and I gasp. The artwork on the page is beautiful and elegant. The lettering reminds me of

"The Book of Kells," a real work of art. But I do not have the time to carefully examine the

intricate patterns and designs created in different colored inks.

I began to read out loud with proficiency and grace. The Duke would interrupt me at

specific points to ask my interpretations of the passage. Sometimes we would argue our

understandings, where I make my strong case based on my knowledge and experience from

reading the book in high school and college. During our debates, I discerned a sparkle in Bryce's

eye, a gleam from hearing a new perspective with viable evidence from the story itself.

A horn blows inside the castle, interrupting the last passage of the first chapter. "Time to

sup," Bryce states and stands to his feet, stretching himself. The man is tall, reaching at least six

feet. I mimic him, realizing we have been reading and debating for hours. My back is tight from

sitting, and my ass is full of pins and needles.

"Page, you did well," Bryce compliments while staring down at me. I smile, heat rising

my neck, a small blush warming my cheeks from enjoying his appreciation of my knowledge. "I

haven't had someone to banter with since my old tutor left. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed a

worthy philosophical debate. But don't let it get to your head, boy," he roughly states when he

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observes the expression of pleasure on my face. "You still have yet to impress me with your

combat skills and the rest of your page duties." That puts a damper on my mood.

The Duke walks around me, and I leave the book on the stool to follow him. I am

starving!

I walk carefully behind the Duke when we reach the immense hall. Placed around the

room were long tables with the Duke's knightly entourage sitting on benches, holding loud

discussions. Everyone in the room stops talking and stands when the Duke is in front of his chair.

I was standing directly behind him, and I watched everyone sit after the Duke.

Steaming food in small cauldrons are brought out by servants and ladled on to wooden

plates. From the scent and consistency, I would say it was some sort of meat stew with

vegetables. The Duke lifts his cup, and I take it as a sign to fill his glass. I grab the pitcher next to

him and serve him.

My stomach complains because I had to serve the Duke until he has finished eating.

However, the Duke was not an outgoing man and made short work of his meal. When he stands,

all the knights again quiet and stand. The Dukes' eyes land on me, "You may go and eat in the

kitchen. Do not tarry."

"Thank you, my lord," and I follow my nose to the kitchen. The kitchen was as busy as it

was this morning. The same chef who gave me bread and cheese for breakfast was still present,

slaving away.

As soon as he notices me, he grins, "Ho ho, my lad! The Duke gave you permission to

sup?" I cannot help but smile at the chef's jovial attitude.

"Yes, Sir!" I happily reply, too eager to eat.

"None of this 'Sir,'" the chef quips. "My name is Martin. I heard about you befriending

the devil horse Brimstone." Martin's voice is full of respect.

"Yes, Sir - I mean Martin," I correct. "Brimstone is a reliable horse. You just need to

know how to talk with him," I add.

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"Well, I say you deserve a hefty helping of stew tonight!" Martin gives me a plate filled

to the brim of yummy looking stew. "Sit here and eat. Do not take too long, though," he warns.

"It will be a bad night if the master comes down here to find you."

"Yes, Martin," and I dig in. My taste buds filled with the savory flavors of meat, gravy,

and a mixture of cooked vegetables and herbs. In other words, delicious.

I eat while listening to Martin telling me stories of Brimstone's antics with the Duke's last

page. I couldn't help but cough on my food, trying to stifle a laugh and not choke when Martin

told me how the horse dragged the page through the castle square and out the front gate.

It took the Duke almost half a day to retrieve his wayward horse. The page took even

longer to make it back the castle because the horse dumped him in the bog a few miles away

from here.

When I finish, I thank Martin for the meal and stories and make swift time through the

castle to reach the Duke's office door. I don't knock when I enter the office, and I don't announce

myself when I open the bedroom door. Now I wish I had!

The wooden door and the wandering through my thoughts kept me from hearing the

argument that was happening in the bedroom. A woman with fiery red hair flowing down her

back with a head-dress, and was wearing a richly embroidered gown, personifying the costume

of nobility from the Middle Ages, was screaming at the Duke!

"I should be eating with you in the hall! You keep me locked on this floor like a prisoner!

I am your mistress and should be acknowledged as such!" Mistress?!

Why the fuck can't the fairies land me in a time when the descendants of Braxius were

single? My Trojan husband was married to a bitch that allowed the Greeks into Troy. My Roman

lover had a mistress who tried to embarrass me in front of the Emperor. I don't want any more

lovers with baggage in my life. Two men who look the same was enough for me, thank you!

Bryce detects my movement at the door because he glowers at me with a stare that could

kill. "OUT!" He bellows.

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I hastily retreat and wait out in the hallway. The torches in the sconces next to the doors

flicker with flame, lit by a servant because the sun was almost down. A dark blue had taken over

the sky with the pinpricks of the stars shining through, and the air was cooling.

The door opens with a WHOOSH! The Duke's mistress passes by me without a glance.

"PAGE! GET IN HERE! NOW!"

Shit on a stick! Why me?