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OOM: Javert
[ Cont'd from here ]
The caretaker is an old man, one who has been in servitude to the Master since he was a small child. He received word only an hour before of his imminent arrival, and has prepared only one of the bedrooms.
Save he was expecting only his Master, not a guest. And not one in ill health. But the grandmother has sent provisions, and a basket of some strongly scented salve with instructions. The Master deposited the man on the pure white sheets, and he was instructed to prepare hot water, enough for a bath. There are no servants to carry water, he murmurs, and the Master smiles at him. He holds his breath until the Master's head dips in acknowledgement.
'Go prepare him a meal then. We shall carry water, later.'
'Yes, sire.'
'And the others?'
'They sleep, sire. Shall I wake them?'
'No. No, leave them be. When you are done with the meal, and the fires are laid, you are excused.'
'Yes, sire.'
The Master lays out clothes for the man, from his own wardrobe. He paces in front of the fire. He sits and watches the man sleep, but takes no rest himself. Outside, the storm batters against the high walls, but the sound of thunder is faint within.
'Food, sire.'
'Thank you, Abel. You may go now.'
'Thank you, sire.'
The Master still sits and watches the sleeping man as he pulls the door closed. It is not the most disturbing thing Abel has seen in his years of servitude.
The caretaker is an old man, one who has been in servitude to the Master since he was a small child. He received word only an hour before of his imminent arrival, and has prepared only one of the bedrooms.
Save he was expecting only his Master, not a guest. And not one in ill health. But the grandmother has sent provisions, and a basket of some strongly scented salve with instructions. The Master deposited the man on the pure white sheets, and he was instructed to prepare hot water, enough for a bath. There are no servants to carry water, he murmurs, and the Master smiles at him. He holds his breath until the Master's head dips in acknowledgement.
'Go prepare him a meal then. We shall carry water, later.'
'Yes, sire.'
'And the others?'
'They sleep, sire. Shall I wake them?'
'No. No, leave them be. When you are done with the meal, and the fires are laid, you are excused.'
'Yes, sire.'
The Master lays out clothes for the man, from his own wardrobe. He paces in front of the fire. He sits and watches the man sleep, but takes no rest himself. Outside, the storm batters against the high walls, but the sound of thunder is faint within.
'Food, sire.'
'Thank you, Abel. You may go now.'
'Thank you, sire.'
The Master still sits and watches the sleeping man as he pulls the door closed. It is not the most disturbing thing Abel has seen in his years of servitude.