Caged Birds-04
- "Caged Birds Don't Fly High - Chapter Four"
- by xenaRRa
To Kelley without whom this would have remained only a dream.
All characters in this work are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
This work may not be reproduced in any form without the express permission of the author.
Copyright 1989 by K. Xenarra Brown.
CHAPTER FOUR
Cold, green eyes stared down at Krea's diminutive form. She shrank from their piercing stare. If there had been a way to melt into the stone floor, or disappear into the walls, she would have done it in a flash. She shifted from foot to foot, holding her wet but now clean doll tightly under her arm. Her bruises, both fresh and old making standing still extremely uncomfortable. The woman sitting in front of her continued to study her, adding to the girl's uneasiness.
Looking intently at her feet, Krea slowly moved a hand up to her rump to scratch the itch caused by the rough fabric of her new dress. She felt, rather than saw, the woman's expression change to disapproval. Krea dropped her hand back to her side without scratching. A small itch was the least of her present aches and pains. As she stood under inspection, her mind wandered back over the past few hours, attempting to make some sense out of what had taken place after the mistress had left.
It seemed days ago that the servant woman held Krea by the arm. She informed the girl that her name was Cook. Cook then hustled Krea off to the kitchen. They stopped in front of the door before entering the building, however, and Cook ordered Krea to remove all of her clothing.
"We'll have to burn these, you know," she said, plucking at Krea's clothing with obvious distaste. "Now, off they come."
"Don' wanna," the tiny girl said as she shook her head. It seemed to her that she had only recently recovered what was left of her clothes from the men who had found her. To give up her dress was a frightening thought, but to strip in the middle of a public yard in front of total strangers was out of the question.
Krea's refusal was rewarded with a cuff to the side of her head for insolence. Standing in the open with the everyday traffic of the manor around her, she sullenly removed her dress and handed it over to the large woman. She managed to retain a hold of her blanket and doll as she followed Cook into the kitchen. The dress was unceremoniously tossed into the fireplace where it ignited and produced a smelly roll of greasy smoke. Choking and scowling, Cook fumbled in the chimney and opened the damper wider, bringing a draft which quickly burned the remainder of the dress.
Cook placed a large tub on the floor and filled it, bucket by bucket, from a barrel standing nearby. Noticing an awkward and slovenly youth loitering near the fireplace and learing at the girl's naked body, she sent him for water to refill the barrel, then motioned Krea to get into the tub. The sides were too high for the girl to clamber up by herself, and she soon found herself caught, suspended in midair with one foot off the floor while the other had a ways to go before it would touch the bottom of the tub. Cook had turned her back to attend to other chores and did not see the predicament of the little girl.
Krea teetered on the brink of disaster for a long moment before giving up and tumbling into the tub. The resulting splash washed water up out of the tub and over the stone floor and turned Cook's head.
"Look at what you've done!" the woman screeched.
"My 'aby's all wet," Krea screamed back, righting herself and bringing the dripping doll out of the water.
The beefy woman towered over Krea. "What are you doing with that doll and that blanket?" Cook demanded as she attempted to tear the doll from Krea's hand. "I told you to burn all your things," she said tugging ferociously at the small toy.
"Din't. Jus' my 'ress," Krea replied obstinately.
The water had mixed with the layer of dirt and grease which covered Krea's baby doll, resulting in a thin, slick mud mixture which slid right through Cook's fingers. The big woman fell suddenly backwards as she lost control of the doll and sat down abruptly in the puddle of water on the floor. Much lighter than Cook, but holding more tightly to the doll, Krea was somersaulted backwards out of the tub with the opposing reaction to the sudden release. Neither Cook nor Krea needed to understand the physics behind happened to know that they were not happy with the results.
Krea, sitting in the puddle of water on one side of the bucket and retaining a tight grip on both her blanket and doll, began sucking her thumb with great intensity as she regarded the cook who still sat sprawled on the other side of the bucket. Cook, for her part, studied the small child warily. How such a tiny thing could have caused so much trouble in such a small time amazed her and marked Krea as someone to be watched very closely.
"Give Cook the nice dolly," the woman wheedled. "You can't take a bath and hold your dolly at the same time. Cook will take good care of it for you until you're finished." She held out her hand, but Krea slowly shook her head and began to scoot her bare bottom along the floor, moving further and further away from the cook.
"I'll give you a nice apple," the cook tried again, producing a tantalizingly large piece of fruit. "If you won't give me the dolly, how about giving me the blanket? I promise to take good care of it."
Krea was only six-years-old, and a very hungry six at that. Though she did not really trust the woman before her, she did want that apple badly. She put her doll safely between her legs and extended her hands slowly, one open and waiting for the apple, the other closed tightly about the scruffy corner of the blanket. Trying to gain the child's confidence, Cook placed the apple into Krea's left hand before removing the blanket from the right. Krea relinquished her hold on the blanket as she bit into the juicy apple.
"Now give me the doll," Cook said as she set the scrap of dirty fabric aside. Krea shook her head violently, juice from the fruit coursing down both sides of her mouth and spattering about her.
"I'm not going to fool with you any longer, girl," the cook said as she struggled to her feet. "Give me the doll, now!" Frightened by the woman's sudden change in attitude, Krea scuttled backwards until she was backed against the wall. Unable to go further, the girl began to cry, her hold on her doll like a vice.
"Well, I still have this," Cook said jubilantly holding the blanket over her head. In one smooth movement she turned and tossed it into the blaze in the fireplace. The sliver of blanket barely made any smoke as it vanished in the flame. Krea felt her stomach heave as her blanket was consumed. She began to cry with more intensity.
"If you know what's good for you, you'll stop crying and get back into that tub," Cook said menacingly. "You're not much bigger than that rag. I don't think you'd last much longer than it did." She laughed an evil chortle which Krea understood much more clearly than the woman's words. Crying and shaking, still squeezing her doll, she dropped the half-eaten apple and sidled up to the tub.
Unwilling to cooperate but afraid not to, she allowed Cook to place her in the tub and scrub her thoroughly. The woman seemed to spend an awfully long time washing between Krea's legs, but the girl was unable to protest, her voice paralized by fear. To her credit, Cook did not try to take the doll, washing it with Krea instead.
"I'm not worried about your doll, girl," Cook announced to the room, "Mistress will take it away from you soon enough." Krea began to cry again, much to Cook's amusement.
The brawny woman had scrubbed Krea raw, and eventually a girl emerged from the filth. The boy returned with the buckets full of fresh well water, smirking as he entered the room and saw Krea's naked body. Cook stood the girl up and directed the boy to pour the water over her as she stood in the tub. The water cascaded down in an icy flood which robbed Krea of her breath and left her gasping for air. No sooner had the shock from the first drenching passed than a second bucket was upended over her head, washing the last bits of soap from her body as it chilled her to the bone.
"Let me have a go at her," the boy demanded, his fingers drifting over Krea's body, lingering on the places where her breasts would someday be, working his way downward toward her still unformed sex.
"That'll be enough of that, Godfrey," Cook said, smacking the boy's hands smartly with a wooden spoon. "The Mistress wants this one. She's too good for the likes of you. Besides, you ain't old enough to be going about doing a man's job. You're still wet behind the ears." Cook's laughter rang through the room as the boy put his sore fingers into his mouth for relief.
"I'll get you, girl," he whispered to Krea. "Have no doubts about that. I'll have you my own way in time."
"Here, now. Get out of here, I say!" Cook bellowed as she took the youth and flung him out the door and into the yard. He landed in a heap at the feet of his peers whose whoops of laughter at his disgrace caused his face to redden.
"We've got a score to settle, girl," Krea heard him hollar back as Cook slammed the door and turned back to face her.
The woman pulled her from the tub and dried her with a clean rag. She found an old wool shirt, too large, which she slipped over the child's thin shoulders and belted at the waist.
"That's going to have to do for now," Cook stated.
"Scratches," Krea announced calmly as she recovered the apple from the floor and took a big bite.
"Well, that's too bad, isn't it," the cook said as she swooped down and snatched the apple from Krea. "I don't know what the Mistress expects of me anyway." Cook began to rant. "I try to do my job, and what thanks do I get? I get a snot-nosed little brat who wrecks my kitchen, ruins my dress, and then has the nerve to complain about the free clothing I give her. Well, listen to me little miss," the woman said, directing the barriage of words at the girl, "You better pray that you don't end up working here, 'cause you and me have already got bad blood between us. And bad blood won't do you any good at all. Not at all."
Cook loomed larger and larger in front of Krea, smiling a mean-looking, toothy grin. Suddenly frightened by the raw power of the woman, the tiny sprite fled screaming from the room. Cook surged after her, all red elbows and flapping white apron. Krea ran faster, passing through rooms without noticing the occupants, slowing only enough to dodge furniture and keep moving. Reaching an intersection of hallways, Krea choose the left and charged down it, oblivious to the stark contrast the heavily-ornamented tapestries hanging on the walls made with the austerity of the rest of the house.
The hall stopped abruptly at a large, ornate brass door. Cook caught up with her there as Krea searched wildly for a way out. Grabbing the child by the nape of the neck, the woman knocked gently on the door, then entered. The pair approached the figure in the red dress at the far end of the room. The lady was looking out the window, her back to them, obviously overseeing some activity in the yard. Cook kicked Krea's feet out from under her and she fell heavily on her knees, whimpering.
At the noise, the Mistress turned around and made her way to a large, beautiful chair near the fireplace. Krea noticed that she used a cane as she moved about the room. The woman sat down with dignity, then used that same cane to dismiss the cook with a single wave. With her jeweled hand, the mistress motioned Krea to come closer. Krea wanted to please this great lady so badly it hurt. For no reason she understood, she suddenly and completely loved this striking beauty without a single reservation. Krea jumped to obey the gesture and came to a stop a few feet in front of the chair. The lady studied Krea for a long time.
"You'll do," the lady said at last. Krea looked up and smiled a small smile. "Your name is Krea, isn't it?" she asked the girl.
"Ye-, Yes, Miss'ress," Krea whispered.
"MisTress, MisTress, girl," the lady said, "The word has a T in it.
"Yes, Miss'ress," Krea responded, not knowing what she was expected to do.
"Oh, well," the Mistress sighed. "Krea, you were a very bad girl. Did you know that?" The girl shook her head. "Yes you were." the lady continued. "You ran away from home, didn't you?" Krea nodded slowly, suddenly scared. "You made your mum and dad very worried and sad. That was a bad thing to do." Krea stuck her thumb into her mouth and held her doll more tightly.
"You were so bad they don't ever want to see you again. They never want you to go back home. You were very bad."
A very frightened girl began to cry. Great silent sobs shook her as she thought about never seeing her mum again.
"Do you know what else you did?" the mistress continued. Krea shook her head, still crying without a sound. "You went into the forest by yourself. That was a bad thing. There are lots of bad things in the forest that will get you and hurt you. There are men in the forest that will hurt you." Wide-eyed, Krea nodded. "Did some men hurt you, Krea?"
The tiny girl began to cry outloud. She longed to crawl up into her mother's lap and receive comfort. But her mother wasn't there, and the woman who sat before did not seem like the type to give hugs to scared little girls.
"Show me where they hurt you, Krea," the lady demanded. Still crying but afraid to disobey, Krea turned her back on her mistress, bent over, and lifted the tail of her shirt/dress to reveal the damaged Benny had done. "Sweet holy Mother of Jesus," the lady muttered as she surveyed the bruises and pus-filled sores caused by the man's abuse. She opened a jar full of sweet¬smelling salve and applied the soothing lotion to the wounds. It brought Krea instant relief.
"Stand up, Krea," the lady said, "and look at me." Krea was embarrassed to face her mistress, but feared the consequences of disobedience. She turned around slowly and brought her eyes up to look into the beautiful green ones which faced her.
"Those men live in the woods. They like to hurt little girls. If you ever run away from here, they will find you. They will hurt you again, Krea. Do you understand? You must never run away from here. The forest is dark and scary and full of bad men. The bad men will hurt you Krea. What will happen if you run away?" the lady asked abruptly, pointing her long finger directly at Krea.
"Hurt. Men hurt Krea. Krea not run 'way. Proms'. I proms'."
"You had better promise!" the lady exploded. She stood up and paced about the room, mumbling to herself. "Younger than I expected. Can't use her yet, but can't send her back. What to do." Suddenly, the mistress turned and directed a question at the girl. "Can you wash dishes?"
"Ye-, yes, Miss'ress," Krea stammered. "I yoused to 'elp mum 'ash 'ishes lots."
"Good. So, here is what you're going to do. Cook needs a girl to wash dishes. You will work for Cook." Krea hid her face in her doll, frightened at the thought of working for Cook. "What's that you have there," the mistress said as she plucked the doll from Krea's hands.
"My 'Aby. Peas give me my 'Aby." The child's words were polite, but strained.
"As I was saying," the lady continued, smoothing the hair of the doll she held in her hand. "You can wash dishes for Cook. If she tells me that you're a good girl, you'll get to come up here and play with your doll. You'd like to do that, wouldn't you?" Krea nodded, the prospect of regaining 'Aby obscuring for the moment what was being demanded of her. "But if Cook says you're a bad girl, you'll be punished and you'll not be allowed to see your doll. And if you are very bad, I might make you go back into the forest at night."
Krea did not like this at all. She knew that Cook did not like her and would punish her at every opportunity. But she wanted to get her doll back and to please this lady so badly. Caught between the impossible alternatives of working for Cook or displeasing her Mistress, the operational portion of Krea's mind tried to slide away.
"What are you going to do? Are you going to be a good girl?" the lady asked, bringing Krea back to the present.
"Good girl," Krea responded woodenly.
"Good girls get held. Do you want to be held?"
Nodding, Krea threw herself into her Mistress' arms and sobbed uncontrollably. Mistress K. stroked the girl's hair and murmured softly: "It's alright. You're going to be all right. You're a good girl."
Hearing the words fall from her beloved Mistress' mouth made Krea happy beyond measure. The lady found a place in a cabinet where 'Aby would be safe until Krea came to play with her. Krea held her doll one last time before the cabinet door was closed. She didn't cry, even though she wanted to, and the Mistress noticed her control and called her a good girl again.
Praise ringing in her ears, she almost floated as she followed a servant back down to the kitchen. Cook was away when she arrived, so she happily began alternately scrubbing the filthy pot that was put before her and blowing bubbles with the soap, content to try to be her mistress' good girl.
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