Black Blood

With my knees buckling, I walk towards the temple, which is apparently what they call the main building here.

Today is my first day at work, ever. I may sound like a spoiled little princess, but I’ve never worked a day in my life. I’ve helped out a few times with my mother’s chores or when I was very young with the maids, but that was it.

I hope with all my heart that I will not be put to work in the kitchen. I could not tell you how to fry an egg, let alone prepare a whole meal. I only realise how bizarre that is now that I think about it.

I walk to the front doors with slower steps than I would have liked. My back has healed to the extent that I can stand and walk straight. Lifting things is still strictly forbidden, Alisha said. You might wonder why I haven’t fled yet. They are not holding me, they are not forcing me to stay and I am recovered enough.

However, the king also knows that I won’t leave without Novak. His condition is still unclear to me.

Two warriors are standing in front of the door. They look at me with the same look as all the others. A mixed look of sympathy, surprise and disgust. I hate every part of that look but I don’t think I’ll get it off their faces any time soon. I also can’t deny that the situation feels a bit strange.

A fortnight ago I was a prisoner, tortured and almost killed. Now I walk around free and go into the king’s service. Alisha told me to ask as few questions as possible. The king may be crazy, but the people are not, most of them.

I stop in front of the two guards and make a small bow. Alisha was l very clear that I must treat the king and his guards with as much respect as possible. Bowing, addressing them as ‘you’, not talking if you are not asked to, and occupying yourself with your own tasks as much as possible, it was explained to me. That too is a strange idea in my head. My father would laugh at me. The crown princess bowing to a local king. The world has its strange ways.

‘I wish to speak to the king,’ is the only logical thing I can think of to say. The right guard starts laughing at me and shakes his head. I look at him, not understanding. I must have missed something because the hilarity completely escapes me.

‘You can come with me.’ I look back in surprise at the unexpected voice. A middle-aged woman stands behind me. She is tall and broad. Novak would have called her a dyke. In any case, you cannot deny her appearance. She is not the most beautiful of women. Her grey hair is sticking out in all directions. Her body is wrapped in a white dress with a brown apron that is completely covered in stains. As if that were not repulsive enough, her face is not exactly friendly either. I look from the woman to the guard and back to the woman.

‘Good luck, princess,’ one of the guards says, grinning. That comment alone makes my blood slowly start to boil. I would love to turn around and slap his cheek. But that doesn’t seem like a good start to my first day at work.

‘Hurry up, I haven’t got all day,’ the woman says. She turns around and starts walking towards the back of the temple. I quickly follow the woman. Something in me is happy with the woman’s appearance. It makes sure that I don’t have to face the king or speak to him. However, I do not dare to say or ask anything to the woman. Her whole appearance is repulsive.

‘Never ask the guards to speak to the king again. If the king wants to speak to you, he will make that clear,’ the woman warns me. We walk past the temple to the back. I had not yet noticed that behind the temple there is an equally large house in the same style. Tall, white and with coloured accents.

The woman walks in firm steps to the side of the house. On the left side is a small door, almost completely overgrown with plants. Without saying a word, she grabs a door handle between the plants and pulls the door open.

‘Hurry up, you’re late,’ she says before stepping inside. I follow her into a new room, or rather into storage. I end up in a small room full of cleaning materials. Wipes, sponges, brooms and soap everywhere you look. There is no window, so as soon as the door closes behind me, it is almost pitch black.

The woman opens the only cupboard in the room. She pulls out a pile of clothes and pushes it into my hands.

‘Change,’ she says sternly. I look around, hoping to find a place with a bit more privacy, but there is none. The woman makes no move to leave either. I don’t suppose the woman will offer me another place with more privacy. There is nothing left for me to do but to change my clothes before the woman’s eyes.

As carefully as I can, I try to undo the strings of my dress. Alisha had made sure they were not tight and within easy reach, for which I am now most grateful. Slowly I lower my present borrowed blue dress from Alisha to the floor.

‘Let me make one thing clear. You are not a princess here. You are a maid, a slave and a rat. There is no special treatment or exceptions for you. You keep quiet, do your work and make sure you are seen as little as possible. Your day starts at eight in the morning and ends at ten in the evening. At twelve o’clock you have a half hour break which you spend outside this building. You do not talk if you are not asked to. You do not make eye contact or go to places you are not supposed to. A breach of the rules is punished with an appropriate punishment. If you steal something, you lose a hand or a finger. If you talk out of turn, you lose your tongue. Am I clear?’

My father had strict rules for the servants. There were severe punishments for many rules. These rules are generally similar to those of my father. Although the rules were tough and inhuman, it happened that they were broken. I saw a girl get her hand amputated in front of all the other servants for taking a piece of bread from the kitchen. It is one example of many.

The one I remember most is a girl who had been intimate with a guard out of love. She was immediately removed from service and sold to the brothel after they had branded her with the letter S. I don’t know what happened to the guard.

I nod to the woman, not knowing if it is allowed to talk. I fold the clothes from the pile apart. A white under dress, a green skirt and brown shorts will be my clothes for the next month. I pull the white under dress over my head while trying to spare the wounds on my back as much as possible.

‘Your hair must be in a ponytail or bun and your shoes are in the closet,’ the woman continues. I step into the skirt and pull it tighter by the strings around my waist. What exactly I am going to do or where I am going to work is still unclear to me. Judging by the clothes and the place, I won’t have to work in the kitchen, which is a relief.

I tie on the apron and put my hair up with the games the woman hands me. From the cupboard I pick up a pair of white shoes in my size. I wipe my clothes straight and look at the woman, not knowing what to do next.

Meanwhile, the woman has picked up a pile of stuff and pushed it into a basket. She pushes the basket into my hands with a broom. As I lower my eyes into the basket, I see a pile of cleaning supplies.

‘You have the task of cleaning and preparing Madam Nalu’s suite. You also provide her with all her necessities and her wishes. If you have any questions, find a way. I am busy enough. Now get to work.’ The woman gives no further explanation before she walks away through the door on the other side.