The Scribe(40)
“Mmm… you’re up already?” he grumbled to Theresa as he finished scratching his crotch. “If you need water, just up the path you’ll find a stream.”
Theresa thanked him. Dodging the nag that like the rest of the animals had spent the night in the cave, she pushed open the door that sealed the entrance and went outside. Satan barked but then followed behind her, tail wagging. She noticed that the temperature had fallen since yesterday, just as Leonora had predicted. Holding her cloak tightly around her, she examined the surroundings.
In front of the entrance to the bear cave there was the empty cart, which she assumed Althar must have unloaded. Wandering a little farther up the path she discovered a hawthorn animal pen, with signs that it had recently been emptied. All around there were woodchips, interspersed with chopped firewood, used wedges, logs of various sizes, mounds of shavings and several mallets, piled into a strange heap. There was no sign of a vegetable patch or anything resembling one.
As she was about to wash she realized she was bleeding down below. Satan came over to sniff her and, annoyed, she shouted at him to go away. Her flow was abundant, so she washed herself thoroughly in the stream before positioning the folded cloth that she always carried with her for this purpose. She crossed herself and ran back to the bear cave.
By then, Althar had already taken the animals outside and Leonora was attending to Hoos.
“How is he?” Theresa inquired.
“He’s breathing better, and seems at ease. I’m heating water to wash him. Come on, give me a hand.”
Theresa obeyed. She took the pot from the embers and brought over the soap made from boiled animal fat, blushing when she realized that Leonora was starting to undress him.
“Don’t just stand there gawking, pull his trousers down,” she ordered.
Theresa tugged them off to reveal a pair of tight woolen long johns. She looked away as it became apparent that Leonora was taking these down, too.
“Right, then, pass me the soap—and be quick about it, or he’ll freeze.”
The young woman turned red. Aside from her little cousins, she had never seen a man with so few clothes on. She passed the soap to Leonora, who scrubbed Hoos as though she were washing a chicken. When she asked Theresa to hold him while she continued to clean, she couldn’t help glancing toward his groin. Her gaze fell on the soft hair that surrounded his member, and she felt flushed when it occurred to her that she would never have imagined it so big. She thought Leonora would chide her if she caught her looking and so tried to be as discreet as possible, but while they were wringing out the cloths, she was able to reexamine him less surreptitiously.
“It looks like he’s broken a rib, see?” said Leonora, pointing at a reddish bump on his chest. She rested her right ear against his torso and listened. “But I can’t hear any whistling, which is a good sign, at least.”
“Will he be all right?”
“I should think so. Bring some more water and I’ll turn him over. A year or so ago a trunk fell on Althar and almost cut him in two. He was cursing and raving like a madman, but within two weeks the lucky sod was already scuttling around like a lizard.”
“It’s true,” said Althar, who had just walked in. “How’s he looking, my queen?”
“A cracked rib and a bad knock to the head.”
“Well, then, nothing that one of your breakfasts won’t cure,” he declared.
“That’s your solution to everything: food.” She laughed and gave him a shove.
They finished washing him and then sat down at the table.
Breakfast proved to be quite an event. Leonora prepared slices of salt meat, which she covered with pork fat, mushrooms, and onion. Then she added some slabs of goat’s cheese, which she browned by placing some embers on top of the stewpot. Finally, she added a splash of wine, which, she said, settled the belly.
“And you haven’t tried her pastries yet,” said Althar.
Theresa licked her lips as she sampled the honey and almond creation that Leonora served afterward. Theresa liked them so much she asked for the recipe. Then she looked at Hoos despondently.
“Don’t worry about him,” said Althar. “Leonora will take care of him. Now come with me—we’ve work to do outside.”
He explained that in winter there was less game to hunt, and that fishing became impossible. They had a small sown field on more fertile land some distance from the bear cave, which did not need any attention until the onset of spring. Although he did some hunting in the winter, he explained that the bulk of his time was spent doing carpentry, making repairs and crafting tools until spring arrived.
“And above all, stuffing animals,” he added with pride.
They walked up the slope to a crevice in the mountain that looked as if a great axe had cleaved it open. The second cave had a narrower mouth and Theresa had to bend down to follow Althar, who, equipped with a torch, went on ahead as though he knew the way by memory.
Soon the tunnel widened into a spacious chamber, like a church nave.
“Nice, eh?” he bragged. “We used to live here, but when Leonora fell ill we moved to the bear cave. A shame, but its sheer size made it impossible to heat. However, the cold is good for the pelts, so I set up my storeroom here.”
He used the torch to show her his trophies. In the half-light emerged a pack of foxes, a brace of ferrets, and deer, owls, and beavers—all strangely immobile, frozen in grotesque positions that made it hard to believe they had once been alive. Theresa observed their twisted jaws, gleaming eyes, and claws spread in a macabre dance. Althar explained that in his youth he had learned the art of taxidermy—and that many nobles liked to display the beasts whose lives they claimed on their hunts.