Chapter 2: The Duties of a Maid

It wasn't much later that Tilda sat in the servant's commons with the other gossiping maids.

Tilda was asking about Lady Cosaria, "So she's an illegitimate child?"

Maddy, the oldest and most plain of the maids, nodded.

"Yes. The count was blackout drunk when he had an affair with a priestess. The priestess died but not before sending the count a note about the girl. That's when she was first taken in, I heard," Maddy said.

Juliet hushed the group, "Shhhh! Quiet down." Her perfect ringlets bouncing up and down in her worried frenzy.

Maddy whispered, "I've been working here for six years and I didn't find out the whole story until just a few months ago."

"Has the abuse been going on for that long?" Tilda asked.

Maddy said, "As far as I know. Poor creature."

Tilda said, "I don't think I've seen people so cruel."

Juliet spoke up, "Don't let the family hear you say that. They'll have us all fired."

Tilda clenched her fist. This wasn't right and neither was cowering just to please their superiors.

Tilda said, "There has to be something we can do. We can't let ourselves stoop to their level of cruelty."

Maddy and Juliet exchanged nervous glances. Talk like that could easily put their own livelihood in danger, however, they too felt the urge to help. What they could do, however, they didn't know.

༻✧༺

The morning meeting was a daily event, held in the servant's commons, where household servants were given their assignments by either the Head Maid or the Head Butler. At the Baxarte estate, it was the most hated event of the day, simply because the servants knew they would have to interact with the Baxarte Head Maid, a horrible vicious old woman with a vindictive backbite and short, nibbled fingernails.

It was at this moment that she was already barking out her orders, "Weed the garden, change the sheets, dishwashing duty" etc.

As Tilda looked around the room she tried to make a mental note of those she could trust. Those who still had a heart. Most of the other servants had already turned a blind eye to the blight of Lady Cosaria. Some even embraced it. The Baxarte Head Maid herself often referred to Lady Cosaria as 'the pest'.

The Baxarte Head Maid pointed to Maddy, "Give the pest dirty water."

Maddy responded, "Right away."

Tilda read a pained expression as she locked eyes with Maid Maddy. Tilda slyly moved to stand next to her.

Whispering, Tilda said, "Let her know I'll come by later to give her clean water."

Maddy nodded and left the meeting to attend her duties.

Tilda wasn't afraid of the risk if she got caught. To her, the result was worth the risk.

༻✧༺

Later that day Tilda snuck into Cosaria's shack-like room in the worst part of the estate. Cosaria had no bed, just a blanket and some hay.

Cosaria was staring out the window. She often did that, as if she were keeping a vigil.

Tilda placed the water down on a small wooden table and pulled out a book from her large apron pocket.

"I brought you a book," Tilda said.

Cosaria smiled. She loved Tilda, the only one who showed her kindness.

༻✧༺

It was a few days after, on an especially bleak morning, that the daily meeting dragged on. All the servants held a gloomier atmosphere than normal, feeling overworked and underappreciated.

The Baxarte Head Maid asked a question, "The moldy food, today it's going to the pest. Who wants to take it to her?

Tilda raised her hand. "I will," she said.

Later that day in Cosaria's room, Cosaria weakly trembled as Tilda gave her a bag of food.

Tilda said, "This is for you. Sorry, there's not a lot today."

Cosaria opened the bag and spied half a loaf of bread and a block of cheese. It was a feast for royalty.

"Thank you."

Cosaria ate the food in such a polite dignified way that it made Tilda almost forget about her own gnawing hunger. Tilda had thrown out the moldy food and instead, had given Cosaria her own daily rations. She did that a lot. She often stole things too; soap, medicine. There were days that Tilda stayed up late just to make sure Cosaria was okay.

But she couldn't protect her from everything.

༻✧༺

It was a familiar scene; maids, gossiping in the Baxarte main kitchen. The offending culprits included Susa, Juliet and Tilda. The topic of discussion was Susa's recent escapade.

Susa said, "I ripped apart her new dress, right in front of her eyes and she didn't even flinch."

Tilda and Juliet were horrified. They knew exactly what Susa was talking about. Lord Baxarte had ordered Cosaria to be given new dresses. While she wasn't welcome into the family, she was still a part of it, and Lord Baxarte wasn't about to have rumors going around that he didn't feed and cloth all of his children. Even if those rumors were true. Saving face always came first for Lord Baxarte.

Juliet rubbed her hands together as she said, "Oh geez. You did?"

Susa snickered, "Lady Melodia told me I could. I just love how I can treat a noble's daughter the same as how the nobles treat us. They finally get what's coming to them, always looking down on us for being commoners."

Tilda was disgusted by Susa's outburst. While she agreed, the Baxarte's treated their servants worse than trash, she knew for a fact that Cosaria was nothing like her bratty half sister Lady Melodia, who spent her time hankering over the newest tabloid gossip with her uppity gentile friends.

Tilda said, "Cosaria has never treated us with disrespect."

Susa said, "She's one of them so she's just as guilty as all of them."

Tilda scoffed. Susa was absurd but her absurd ideology was common among the kingdom. Your birth status labeled your worth in life. While Tilda didn't agree, she was in no position to make any sort of societal change. She could only affect those things within her influence.

　༻✧༺　

Cosaria's room was deathly quiet. It seemed as if the starlight didn't dare move across the floor for fear it would make a sound. Tilda had to look up periodically to see if Cosaria was still alive, still breathing.

She was.

She was watching Tilda with glued eyes as Tilda sewed together the fragmented pieces of Cosaria's ruined dress.

"Thank you."

Tilda stopped sewing and stared at Cosaria. It didn't make sense; This girl with such hardships in constant pain. She should be angry. She should fight. Yet she passively accepted everything.

She always says thank you, Tilda thought, why?

　༻✧༺　

One of the duties of a maid was to wait upon the table as the Lords and Ladies dine. Should the Lord need a refill on his chalice, the maid procured the drink. Should the Lady need an extra napkin, the maid fetched it. Anything that would require an interruption to their meal, that was the job of the servants.

Tilda was standing along the wall of the dining room with the other servants, awaiting command. The dining room was a lavish room by any means. Carpeted floors, chandelier overhanging a giant solid oak table. Tilda had often wondered how they managed to get the table up the stairs. It was impossible to move.

"Mother," Melodia said, "Why do we keep that thing around? She's like a weed."

Of course the seventeen year old would be complaining about Cosaria. She was so bored with life she had to create things to complain about.

Brutis spoke next, "She's going to ruin our family."

I hope she does, Tilda thought as she scorned Brutis's slick gelled hair. It clung to his head like a starving man clings to life.

Brutis was the eldest child of the Baxarte family. He was twenty years old and reeked of expensive tastes. He had a hand in all the known vices of gentile life, gambling, drinking, brothels, and throwing money around, but he was expert at hiding his obnoxious habits from his mother. However, when it came to hiding secrets from the gossiping maids, it was nearly impossible. The maids knew everything.

Lady Baxarte said, "She does amazing things for your father's temper and I'm sure we'll find some use for her in the future. We need a puppet, don't we?"

The entire family laughed. The sound was not pleasant, and it reminded Tilda of a herd of donkey's braying.

Tilda suspected the family had been good honest stewards at one point in time. Probably with Lord Baxarte's great-great-great-great grandfather. (The further back the better.) But with the passage of time greed, gluttony, and pompous comparison had tainted the family's good nature. Now the family hurrahed over frills on clothing and the mistreatment of those in 'less advantageous positions' than themselves. It made Tilda sick. She could only wait till she found opportunities to make a difference, even if they were only small impacts. She had to do something.