Young Stefan has won the mysterious Lottery and been taken from his small village to the Black Queen's castle. There he is but one servant among many, and the Queen's true intentions for him are yet unknown...
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For Stefan the next week was spent in a haze of endless labor. He was worked like a beast, but the kitchen matron told him it was the same for everyone during the first few months.
"They do it to test your mettle," she confided. "Do well and you'll go on to better things."
He began to learn the ways of the castle, noting that new arrivals like himself were always dressed in gray while the other servants wore garments of brown or black. He also discovered that skittish little Yvonne was one of the new scullery maids, and though she was almost pathetically eager to please, she also proved to be dreadfully clumsy. She was always spilling baskets and knocking things over, and after a few days her nerves were so rattled that Stefan found her huddled in the cellar, sobbing, certain that she was going to be whipped. But the matron took pity on the girl and gave her simpler tasks like washing the floors and linens, and Stefan was glad to find that there were at least some in the castle who were not cruel.
In the following days he noticed a growing sense of excitement in the kitchen as supplies began to arrive by the cartload. The matron informed him that the Queen's Tournament was approaching, a grand affair that drew great numbers of knights and nobles from far across the realm. By her account it sounded like an event of bloody, frenzied abandon with all manners of debauchery and wild carryings on. Stefan was immediately intrigued.
It was not long afterward that the Queen's Chamberlain arrived to inspect the kitchens. He was a smaller man than Stefan would have guessed, and he had an odd habit of smoothing his black mustache and beard as if he were preening himself. He surveyed the cooking area with the matron following anxiously behind, seeming to fear the little man's displeasure. But everything appeared to be in order, and Stefan breathed a sigh of relief as the Chamberlain left to survey the cellars with the matron still in tow.
Then, disaster struck. The Chamberlain had been gone for barely a minute before Yvonne, who was even more nervous than usual, tripped as she was hurrying to empty her wash bucket. The bucket rolled into a bundle of heavy iron skewers, knocking them over, and the falling skewers clipped the handle of a spit where a great roast had hung all morning over a low fire. Already bent under the weight of the meat, the spit fell, sending the roast into the coals with a heavy thud and a puff of sparking ash.
Stefan stared, frozen in the middle of sweeping the floor. If he hadn't seen the spectacle for himself, he would not have believed it. Yvonne lay where she had fallen, her face a mask of horror. The other servants scattered as the voices of the matron and Chamberlain grew louder from down the hall.
Without pausing to think, Stefan pulled Yvonne to her feet and told her to flee. She stood rooted in place as if stunned, but after a gentle shove and a slap on the backside she retreated from the room just as the Chamberlain arrived. An inquisition swiftly began, and seeing no other way, Stefan stepped forward to claim responsibility for the spoiled roast. The Chamberlain smiled thinly and stroked his beard, seeming pleased by the quick resolution. He then summoned a footman to take Stefan away.
"Give him, oh, twenty lashes," the Chamberlain ordered dismissively. "Perhaps that will cure him of his carelessness."
Resigned to his fate, Stefan did not protest as he was led through the halls to the courtyard where his punishment awaited. Having taken his fair share of beatings, he thought he would be able to face it as stoically as always. He was wrong.
The rough leather whip cracked again and again, each blow stinging horribly and cutting his back like a salted razor. The lashman was a master of his craft, and he was in no hurry. He allowed several moments to pass between strokes for the pain and anticipation to build, and after only the third lash, Stefan cried out. The agony was nearly unbearable. The only thing that steeled him was the thought that fragile little Yvonne might not have survived such treatment.
Stefan took ten lashes, each one worse than the last. He sagged against the ropes that bound his wrists, gasping, his shoulders aflame. He felt the warm trickling rivulets of blood snaking down his back and wondered how he could possibly endure more without going mad. He tensed himself to await the next blow, but it never came. From behind came the sound of voices, and craning his neck, he could just make out the bulky frame of the kitchen matron as she conferred quietly with the scowling lashman. Then she departed, and to Stefan's surprise he was untied and led to the stocks.
"It seems yer too good fer the whip," the lashman grumbled as he locked the bar down over Stefan's neck and wrists. "But perhaps a night in this'll teach you just as well."
For a time, Stefan was jubilant to have escaped the agony of the whip. But soon his limbs began to stiffen and cramp, and he would almost have preferred the lash to the slow, ongoing torment of the stocks. He stretched his legs as best he could, passing the time with fond thoughts of Maggie and her lusty farewell embrace.
By afternoon it had begun to rain and he was soon soaked and miserable. From time to time a servant passed, but none spoke to him and the few who dared to meet his eyes did so with a scornful smile. Evening came and the rain stopped, but the night brought a chill that left Stefan shivering so violently that he began to fear for his life.
He was nearing despair when the white handmaiden came suddenly out of the mist like a ghostly apparition. She carried with her a thick woolen blanket, and this she wrapped around him snugly. Even as Stefan thanked her she turned and walked away, disappearing as swiftly and silently as she'd arrived.
Eased at least from the cold, he dozed fitfully on his feet like a horse. He tried kneeling but the strain it placed on his neck was unbearable, so he soon resigned himself to his discomfort. When he lifted his head he could just make out the flickering lights of the castle towers, and he imagined the Queen looking down on him and laughing at his misery.
The dawn came cold and misty, the haze lifting as the sun rose higher in the sky. Stefan was hungry and thirsty, exhausted from lack of sleep. At mid-morning the lashman came and released him, giving him into the care of a sallow-faced maid who rubbed an oily salve over his torn back as Stefan clenched his teeth and bit back tears. He was given water and then sent back to the kitchens where he was received with a sort of quiet awe. Though he was pained and weary, he went about his work without complaint. He soon came across Yvonne in the cellars, but she would not meet his eyes and hurried away without a word. Stefan had not expected an outpouring of gratitude, but her avoidance served to add a fresh sting to his wounds.
As the morning wore on, however, he was surprised by small gifts of smuggled food that the other scullery maids pressed secretly into his hand or pockets, an apple here, a biscuit there, all accompanied by a smile or wink. He had missed both breakfast and supper the night before, and this kindness softened his mood considerably despite the pain of his wounded back.
Stefan was nearly dead on his feet by the time he returned to his room. The only one of his bunkmates who paid him any mind was the always complaining boy, who if anything seemed to perk up at Stefan's pained groan as he settled into bed.
"Only ten lashes?" The boy scoffed after Stefan had related his ordeal. "The torturer must be going soft. I got twelve for spitting in a footman's face. Don't ask why, but the pig deserved it."
The boy pulled up his shirt to reveal his back, which to Stefan's surprise had only a few faint scars.
"That salve might sting like hell, but it does the job." The boy remarked.
Stefan was somewhat reassured. He was also interested to see that the boy kept the front of his short clutched protectively over his chest, but when he inquired about it the boy only muttered something about a rash and disappeared beneath his blanket without another word. Far too tired to pursue it, Stefan lay down on his stomach and slept like a dead man until morning.
He was awakened by a page only to be told that he was at liberty for the day, free to remain in his room or move about as long as he did not leave the castle grounds. The pain in his back had faded to a dull ache and he lazed for a time, but he soon grew restless and set out with the desire to explore that wing of the castle. It turned out to be far larger than he thought. No one hindered or questioned him as he perused his way through a seemingly endless number of richly decorated halls and corridors, seeing enough armor, weapons, and coats-of-arms on display to equip an entire army.
Stefan followed a side corridor until he came to an archway through which his eyes caught the glimmer of oddly colored light. He ventured within to find a room filled with innumerable treasures that gleamed and glittered in the many-hued sunlight that streamed in through a row of stained windows. There were jeweled crowns and swords, golden shields and armor, fine silk gowns with gem encrusted sleeves, and all manner of coins and precious stones sealed away within cases of clear glass. It was a collection of incredible wealth, and Stefan gazed at each treasure with a sort of reverent awe.
One display was elevated in a place of special prominence, but as he examined it he was puzzled by the seemingly mundane objects it contained. There was the spindle of a loom, its tip darkened as if with blood. Beside it lay a coiled length of braided hair that was as long as a rope. He saw a coral-handled knife with a gleaming red blade, a small sack of something that looked like ordinary beans, a pewter thimble, and the shattered pieces of a glass shoe. Last was a shiny red apple with a bite missing, coated in a preserving layer of wax. There was something vaguely unsettling about this collection and Stefan quickly moved on to explore the castle further.
