After that day he stopped taking her with him in the prison. He booked a room from the tavern instead, locking her in there and taking the key with him when he went in to his business. It was only a small comfort after what she had witnessed. And after every day he returned to pick her up more and more wound up.
He didn’t lay a hand on her, but acted towards her downright mean, scalding her over every little thing he thought was wrong, drilling her mercilessly and mocking when she couldn’t get a thing done. It was impossible to please him. It was as if he was purposefully making her fail every little task she tried to comply, beginning from breakfasts which he claimed she wasn’t making fast enough to cleaning the stable from which she was sloppy and careless at.
“Look at this! How many times I have to tell you? Don’t put my clothes in to the cauldron if there’s blood on them! Clean it off first! People already know what I do for a living, I don’t need to advertise it!” Small speckle of blood she had missed on the cuff of his sleeve.
“Can you even cook water without burning it?” Porridge gone bad because he told her to get some logs from the woodshed while it boiled.
“You’re impossible! There’s dust and dirt everywhere! No wonder your husband was less than pleased!” After he had stomped around in the hut with muddy shoes, looking for something that should have been there, but what she had obviously misplaced.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed? Just say the word and I’ll be happy to help you out, leave my horse alone!” When the beast he called his horse had literally taken a bite out of her and she tried to stem the blood flow from the wound it had made to her arm.
“Get your lazy ass off from the bed and do something!” That comment finally made her snap. She had tried to be a good little maid, bending over backwards to get everything he wanted done. All she had gotten out of it were insults and shouting. Something he had promised she’d have to earn. And in her opinion she would have earned a reward for keeping her temper in check every time he opened his mouth and a new string of curses and insults poured out.
She stepped down from her bed, smoothing the crinkles from her apron. She had taken the habit of sleeping fully clothed in case he decided he needed her help with this or that in the middle of the night. She had just gotten in to bed, after spending the afternoon and the evening on her knees on the floor, scrubbing it until her knuckles bled and the wide floorboards were squeaky-clean. She had had to do it today because tomorrow she’d spend locked up on the second floor of the tavern.
“What do you want me to do?” She asked. The executioner stood leaning his side against the fireplace, and looked genuinely surprised by her question.
“I’m sure there are several things for you to do.”
“If that’s the case, from where should I start?”
“The stable…”
“I cleaned it this morning while you were still sleeping. I fed the horse, gave it water, and I checked it before I went to bed and everything was okay.”
“The kitchen…”
“Is fine. I washed the floor, every cup, kettle, pot and bowl is clean, there’s no dust anywhere, and books are in alphabetical order.”
“My clothes, then?”
“Clean and repaired. I ironed your shirts and they’re in your closet, as well as your pants.”
“What about…”
“No. The only thing I haven’t done yet is to sharpen your sword, and that’s the one thing I’m not touching, ever! Stop bullying me! I can’t keep up with this! If you hate me that much, why the hell won’t you throw me back to jail? At least in there I’d have to fight only for myself and I wouldn’t have to be afraid that the guards start throwing their dirty clothes for me to wash and then complain how inadequate I am!”
“You want back in there? I can take you there if you miss that hellhole that bad.”
“Oh, please. Do take me back. Lock me up, chop me up and get yourself a better maid!”
Before she could continue the executioner stormed out, door of the cabin slamming open and closed, rattling on its hinges. She was still steaming from anger. She was still tired. Her back was still hurting from when he stayed on her knees on the floor, trying to scrub it clean. And she still wasn’t through with him. She went after him, throwing the door, nearly matching his strength in doing so, but she wasn’t moving fast enough. The door swung shut when she was still standing too close of it, and it hit her knee, making her scream.
The executioner was standing in front of the hut, his back turned, but when she screamed he whirled around. Her knee was throbbing hotly from the impact, and hurting so bad that she felt like screaming some more, but she kept her mouth shut and stood her back straight.
“I’m not done yet…” She hissed. The executioner looked at her expectantly.
“I have done everything you have ever asked. Some things I have failed simply because you have hurried me to do something else when I weren’t finished with the previous task. At first I thought you were a good man. Now I see that you’re no better than Carl. Take me back to prison, but make sure that somebody else than you comes for me when it’s my time to die. I do not wish your face to be the last thing I see on this earth.”
The expectant look on his face turned to something else. He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet, trying to avoid her gaze. Then he seemed to get a hold from himself, and he turned his gaze towards her, locking his eyes together with hers.
“I have hurt you. For that I am sorry. But if you really think I could take you back there… I’m not that big of a bastard. I promised you a year. That year you shall have.”
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry? You tell me that you’re going to drag me through hell, and you’re sorry!”
“There are no excuses to how I have treated you recently. But I promise that I try to behave from now on. No more of this nonsense of going back to prison. Is that clear?”
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