The rude maid turned around sharply. Her simple brown dress spun around her ankles. She stomped her feet hard against the stone floor as she walked away. She pushed the heavy wooden doors of the dining room open and marched toward the kitchen. She did not look back. She left Camilla sitting alone at the very long wooden table.
Camilla watched the heavy doors swing shut. The room became quiet again, except for the soft sounds of the other maids whispering in the corners. Camilla let out a deep breath. She rested her elbows on the table and looked at the half-eaten chicken on her silver plate.
"So meddlesome," Camilla spoke softly to herself. Her voice was just a quiet whisper. She picked up a small piece of chicken and popped it into her mouth. She chewed slowly. She thought about the rude maid's angry face. In her life as an assassin, people who spoke to her like that did not live to see the next day. "I hope that soup scalds your hands," she muttered under her breath. It was just a passing thought.
The minutes ticked by. The large dining room was still and warm. The sunlight coming through the tall glass windows made bright squares on the stone floor. Camilla continued to pick the meat off the chicken bones. She ignored the other maids who were staring at her back. She felt much better now that her stomach was not completely empty. The food was giving her weak body some much-needed energy.
Soon, the heavy wooden doors pushed open again. It was Nancy, the rude maid. She was walking back into the dining room. In her hands, she carried a dark wooden tray. On top of the tray was a large ceramic bowl filled with hot soup. Thick white steam was rising from the bowl. The smell of rich chicken broth, cooked carrots, and wild onions quickly filled the air.
Nancy did not look happy to be serving her Lady. As she walked toward the long table, her mouth was moving rapidly. She was murmuring and mocking Camilla under her breath. She thought she was being quiet, but the large room echoed her words.
"Stupid, useless woman," Nancy mumbled, keeping her angry eyes on the hot bowl. "The General is bleeding, and she demands hot soup. She acts like a queen, but she is nothing. Just a burden to us all. I should spit in this broth."
Camilla heard every single word. She paused her chewing and raised one eyebrow. She watched Nancy walk closer. She wondered if the maid was actually brave enough to spit in her food right in front of her.
Nancy was so busy whispering insults and glaring at Camilla that she forgot to look at the floor. Right in the middle of the dining room, there was a large, thick rug with a decorative edge. It was placed there to keep the floor warm in the winter. The edge of the rug was slightly folded up.
Nancy took a hard step forward. The tip of her black leather shoe caught the folded edge of the thick rug.
Everything seemed to happen very slowly. Nancy's foot stopped moving, but the top half of her body kept going forward. She lost her balance completely. Her eyes went wide with sudden fear. She let out a short gasp as she fell forward.
Her hands jerked wildly to try and catch herself. The dark wooden tray tilted sharply to the side. The large ceramic bowl slid across the tray. The hot, boiling soup sloshed over the edge of the bowl.
A large wave of steaming yellow broth flew directly onto Nancy's hands and lower arms.
Then, the bowl hit the stone floor. It shattered into twenty different pieces with a loud, violent crash. The wooden tray clattered against the stones. Nancy fell hard onto her knees, splashing into the puddle of spilled soup.
For one single second, there was total silence in the room.
Then, Nancy opened her mouth and screamed. It was not a small cry. It was a loud, high-pitched scream of pure agony. The hot soup had cooked her skin instantly. She held her hands up in the air, shaking them wildly. Her pale skin was quickly turning a bright, angry red.
"Ahhhh! It burns! It burns me!" Nancy cried out, tears bursting from her eyes. She rocked back and forth on her knees. The pain was terrible.
The other maids standing in the corners of the room gasped in shock. They dropped their feather dusters and cleaning cloths on the floor. They all rushed forward at the same time to help their friend. They formed a tight circle around Nancy.
"Oh my goodness! Nancy!" one maid yelled. "Someone get cold water! Quickly!" another shouted. They fluttered around her like panicked birds, completely forgetting about cleaning the room.
Camilla did not move an inch. She sat perfectly still in her heavy wooden chair. She rested her chin in one hand and watched the chaotic scene unfold. She did not feel sorry for the rude maid. In Camilla's world, if you were not paying attention to your surroundings, you got hurt. It was a simple rule of survival.
Suddenly, Nancy stopped rocking. She pushed the other maids away and looked straight up at the dining table. Her face was red from crying and pain. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She pointed one of her bright red, shaking fingers directly at Camilla.
"Witch!" Nancy screamed at the top of her lungs. Her voice echoed off the stone walls. "The Lady is a witch!"
The other maids stopped moving. They slowly turned their heads to look at Camilla. Their eyes were wide with fear. In this historical time, being called a witch was a very serious and dangerous thing.
Camilla blinked her eyes slowly. She lowered her hand from her chin. She looked down at her fingers, which were still covered in chicken grease. She let out a long, loud sigh. She rolled her eyes toward the tall ceiling.
"What haven't I heard today?" Camilla said out loud. Her voice was deeply annoyed and completely flat.
She lifted her greasy right hand and began to count on her fingers for everyone to see. She pointed to her thumb.
"First, I am crazy because I fell in a well and woke up confused," she said, folding her thumb down. She pointed to her index finger. "Then, I am a murderer because the General fell off a horse." She folded her index finger down. She pointed to her middle finger. "Then, I am not worthy of being a wife because I am eating a piece of chicken." She folded her middle finger down. Finally, she pointed to her ring finger. "And now, I am a witch who can magically make people miserable."
Camilla dropped her hand and looked at the group of panicked maids. "You all should just pick one title and go on with it. Having four different titles in one afternoon is very exhausting for me."
Before the maids could respond to Camilla's strange and funny speech, the heavy doors of the dining room banged open again.
The loud crash made everyone jump. The head maid rushed into the room. Her gray dress flew behind her as she ran. She had heard the loud breaking of the bowl and Nancy's terrible screams all the way from the hallway. Her wrinkled face was pale with worry.
"Nancy! Nancy! What is wrong with you?" the head maid shouted. She pushed through the group of younger maids and dropped to her knees right into the puddle of spilled soup. She did not care that her clean dress was getting dirty.
She reached out and carefully held Nancy's wrists. She looked at the bright red, blistered skin on Nancy's hands. She gasped loudly.
"Oh dear! What happened? How did you burn yourself so badly?" the head maid asked, her voice full of panic.
Nancy sniffled loudly. Her face was wet with tears. She looked at the head maid and pointed her red finger at the dining table again.
"The Lady cursed me!" Nancy cried out, her voice shaking. "I was just walking with the soup. She looked at me with her evil eyes, and suddenly my feet stopped working! She cursed me, and now my hand is burnt! She did it on purpose!"