Demeter Part One

Demeter - Part One

The famous kitchens of Castle Jukard were alight with turmoil and activity one morning in the early spring. Even before dawn broke the morning sky the stoves and ovens were lit, the numerous cooks and their assistants bustling to and fro among the clatter of pans, bowls, and plates as palace servants brought in the stores of food delivered from the countryside. Already charts were hung upon the dark stone walls outlining what was needed and how much for the breakfast feast that would take place in a matter of hours. Normally not this much work was necessary to feed the castle's royal family and all its residents, but not everyday was it that the king was holding a week-long tour and peace settling conference with neighboring countries in one of the biggest treaties of the century. Everything had to be perfect.

With all of Jukard's experienced workers taking charge of the first job of the venture, there would be no doubt as to its success. Jennyanydots, a stout, elderly woman with fur of bright orange and yellow mixed throughout with red tabby stripes and spots, was head of the project, and supervised the goings-on with a strict, professional eye, keeping order with her infamous large wooden spoon. Surrounding her thick, curly fur and swirling apron were the sights and smells of all kinds of food: meats, breads, cheeses, drinks, soups, salads, and all manner of varieties in between from the far stretches of Felinera's borders in every flavor and taste, domestic and exotic. With her large, motherly paws she directed the flow of traffic between the kitchens, ducking and dodging around the stacks of plates being carried for washing, the cooking utensils being handed out as weapons are assigned to soldiers, in the preparation and cooling rooms the finest china and crystal glass plates and bowls filled with the prepared food for the servants to take upstairs. One could only stand back and marvel at how she managed it all.

"The scones are done. You, get them out and set them to cool. The honey should be in the storage. Go in there to find enough to pour over them. And you, check the ham in that oven. If it glistens and has a fine brown outing it is done. Heat up the syrup for the cakes to get rid of any sugar. No! No, lad, those plates go to be washed. Not one dirty plate will be used twice in my kitchen! Demeter! Oh, for Heaviside's sake, Demeter! You clumsy girl! Someone please help her. Mercy, my nerves!"

Kneeling on the cobblestones of the kitchen floor, the young girl called Demeter hid her face in shame and embarrassment as she gathered up the mushrooms she had been carrying in her apron, cleaned and ready to be chopped, only to stumble trying to avoid a tray of passing pastries and tripping to spill her cargo. "I shall wash them again, Miss Jenny," her young, timid voice reassured quietly as she did so. The authority of the kitchens nodded with a tap of the wooden spoon on her hip.

"Be sure you do, Demeter. I'll not have the prince coming down with sickness because of dirty mushrooms."

Demeter hurriedly gathered up the rolling mushrooms and hurried away. Jennyanydots watched until the girl's golden-furred tail vanished through the door that led outside to the palace grounds and the water pump, then with a weary shake of her head returned to her overseeing. "Merciful Heaviside! Does nobody know how to cook a proper apple pie anymore?"

The proceedings carried on like that as the sun rose over Pawprin. The Jellicles who dwelled outside the walls of the castle woke up to the sweet smell of baking and frying that filled the air, drifting on the breeze and watering the mouths of children who woke eagerly to their smaller, meager breakfasts, but with such aromas drifting on the dawn breeze they could gladly sit back and imagine their simple bread, oats, and milk to be the vast bounties that covered the table of the royal family when they and their guests woke to be served: cheese flans, honey oat scones, sweet-fried ham and eggs, warm milk and damson wine, loaves of steaming bread beside servings of butter and assorted jellies of every shade, plates stacked high with fruit-filled cakes, roasted apples, candied chestnuts, fish spiced to perfection, and countless more. Spread out along the enormous wooden table lined with velvet-cushioned chairs in the vast dining hall of the palace, accompanied with silver utensils and goblets, fine lace napkins, golden candelabras staggered like those of a deer's antlers on a red silk tablecloth, the feast combined to make a beautiful spectacle set before the fireplaces of the dining hall.

Which was all the reason why Demeter stopped dead in her footsteps and stared at it in unhidden awe, her lips parted in a gasp that halted in her throat. This being her first time as a server of the tables, she had never before seen a royal feast firsthand, let alone one as splendid as this one in Castle Jukard. Being a poor servant girl, her astonishment was well justified.

"Don't stand there all day," Jenny chided in her motherly voice, urging Demeter on with a spoon-rap to her tail. "Those cakes will get cold."

Demeter came back to life with a start and hurried forward, her tattered skirt bustling as she set down her serving tray of mushroom hotcakes to cool and absorb their butter as they waited for their guests to arrive. "How long will it be before the family sits down to eat?" she asked of Jenny after depositing her cakes and helping to arrange chalices beside pitchers of wine and milk.

"Approximately two hours," the older woman answered. "The family likes to sleep in a little late."

"Good," the girl laughed. "Then I shall have time to breakfast beyond the grounds before I am needed."

Jennyanydots smiled warmly, taking the large serving tray from Demeter's young golden hands. "Ahh, off to see that sweetheart of yours again, are you? Mischievous little imp."

Demeter laughed a sweet sound as she hurried back towards the kitchens. "He is not my sweetheart. Merely a friend who is poorer than I."

"Of course, dear. Take along some scraps from the kitchen, if you like. Just you be sure to return in time to change your dress. Hear me, girl!"

"I hear you, Miss Jenny," Demeter called, already halfway down the stairs to the kitchens. "I shall be back in time!"

The sun was just peeking over the rolling hills of Pawprin's horizon when Demeter headed out across the grounds of Castle Jukard, passing through the gates by way of the servant's exit so she was free to roam the countryside at her leisure.

Demeter was a very young girl to be so free-spirited as to venture out into the woods surrounding Jukard by herself. Barely into her young adulthood at fourteen years, she was a bright-faced Jellicle with slim golden fur speckled throughout with black, red, orange, and brown markings, her neck, throat, mouth, and tail tip highlighted with a fresh clean white colored as pure as milk. Her eyes radiated that vitality of childish youth with an emerald green color, her body naturally fit and trim despite the sheltered life she led as a servant of Castle Jukard. Residing in the servant quarters of the lower levels of the castle, she was free to venture out as often as she pleased when her occupation allowed it, and took full advantage of her time to wander off into the dark woods every chance she could. In the tattered brown-shaded dress she wore whose apron had been detached and bundled up to create a carrier for the food scraps she had been able to take as a picnic that fine morning, she skipped and sang merrily to herself as she crossed the cultivated field surrounding the high walls of Castle Jukard, the green lawns, and finally entered the shaded woods beyond.

All around her the air was cool and fresh with dawn, the ferns and leaf-covered trees damp with moss that was a cool relief to Demeter's bare paws after the hard cobblestones of the kitchen floor. Morning birds sang above in the trees, an uneven but beautiful accompaniment to Demeter's own song, and in the shafts of pale morning sunlight that filtered down through the trees she could see swarms of gnats dancing wildly in the air. She laughed merrily as she skipped over the moss-covered stones and piled leaves of the forest floor, the ferns and bushes grabbing at the tattered hem of her dress.

"Plato!" her melodious voice called out to the waking forest. "Plato! It's me! Where are you?"

Her voice held such playfulness, such innocence that one could only think she was calling to herself, fantasizing some handsome prince to emerge from behind a tree and sweep her up onto his black horse to carry her away into the sunset. The way she searched, peering up into trees and behind rock formations, seemed as though she was just a child at play, chasing fleeting shadows and bounding in short bursts on a whim, laughing delightedly in her joy at being alive. "Platoooo!"

Demeter paused in her search at a sparkling stream that ran through the forest, her bright green eyes watching the pathway of water trickle and gurgle before her, tiny fish darting through the crystal-clear flow amid the sparkles of floating minerals and silt. Demeter leaned forward onto her knees to watch them, tiny frogs leaping away from her into the safety of the water and burying themselves in the soft mud alongside the little crayfish and penniwinkles. Demeter gazed at her reflection in the water, snapped at a passing dragonfly, then whirled with a frightened gasp, dropping her picnic bag, as a dark shadow suddenly dropped into view behind her from nowhere, landing with a predator's silence on the large rock formation behind her.

Plato was the most beautiful cat Demeter had ever met. Not outwardly in the way she admired other toms, but it was a beauty inside him that she could see rival even the sun itself. On the outside he was naught but a normal tom: fur a gentle mix of brown and silver with black paws and a white face patched in brown. His silver-brown mane tumbled wild and uncared for over his shoulders and down in front of his face, and behind those thick, unwashed strands his golden eyes peered out. His eyes were intense, shining with such intelligence and knowing... By a mere glance he seemed a dangerous, savage creature, with a body long and lean from a life of hard survival in the woods, his claws thick from frequent use, his fur having never seen sight of soapwater or brush. His clothes were the bundled furs of animals: a dark brown bear skin wrapped about his waist and torso, held by bound twines of creeper plants, and rabbit furs wrapped in layers covered his feet the same way. But Demeter saw under all of this.

Inside he was the most perfect of creatures. He was gentle and kind. He never spoke much, but what little he did was as soft as feathers. He had never told her his name, and when she finally decided he didn't have one she began to call him Plato. He didn't seem to mind. Nor had he the need to speak. Everything about him radiated happiness and contentment. All Demeter had to do was look in his smiling eyes to hear his melodic laugh. He was never sad or depressed as far as she knew, and there was little doubt in her mind at all that he was simple happiness embodied in one creature. A creature directly from Heaviside. In all the time she had known him Plato never said where he came from, and thus there was much mystery to him as there was wonder. The sad thing, though, Demeter had realized as she became more acquainted with him, was that he didn't seem to know what love was. She felt a pity for him in that aspect. He didn't know love, or for that matter: fear, or greed, or anger. All he knew was happiness. That was why Demeter took off for the woods every chance she could to meet him.

"Plato!" she exclaimed, throwing a slim golden hand to her chest. "You scared the life out of me!"

Another strange thing was he took everything literally. At hearing this expression he cocked his ears in curious alarm and peered closely at her, reaching forward to take hold of her shoulder and sniff her face closely as though to check the validity of her exclamation. Demeter giggled at the tickle of his whiskers so close, and gently pushed him back.

"No, I mean you startled me."

Blinking in satisfaction, the strange forest tom hopped back to his original place, crouched like a panther with all the agility and flexibility of a spider, his tail and ears constantly moving. The sunlight filtered down onto his back in streams of brightening gold, and silhouetted as he was atop the rock formation, he was a dramatic sight. Demeter giggled, bending to pick up again the wrapped bundle she had dropped.

"I brought breakfast for us," she said, indicating the apron as she climbed up on the flattened pile of rocks to untie it and spread out the picnic goods. Plato sat down as well, eyeing and sniffing at the contents with a curious but seeming hunger. Demeter had never known how Plato managed to feed himself during the long stretches Demeter was unable to visit him and in the time before they met, almost a year ago. But he seemed to do well, making these picnic visits a special treat. "I'm going to be serving at the king's table today when he and the visitors have their breakfast," she said excitedly, selecting from the pile a single blueberry scone and breaking it in half, pouring a cap of honey over both sides before handing one to her friend. Plato took the scone carefully, seeming to not notice Demeter's laughs and giggles as he sniffed and examined it closely before gobbling the pastry down eagerly, ears perking up expectantly for more. Despite his simple manner Demeter knew he listened to her every word and understood. He was a very intelligent cat, perhaps a year or two older than her but every bit as pleasant to be with. With neither of them having any family of their own, they found a sibling relationship with each other, quiet and content.

"You had best wish me luck," Demeter talked gently on as they divided and devoured the rest of the food: a small sample of what the royal family would be given free use of once their own breakfast began. It was not uncommon as most of their conversations were carried on by the young queen, Plato listening quiet and attentive as he licked the sticky sweetness of honey from his claws. "I shall have to serve the family and their guests in that awfully uncomfortable dress they have designed for us. Colored black, as well. Could they not have chosen a more festive color?" She took her eyes from the stream to look sideways at Plato. Having long since finished the contents of the picnic, they sat in rest now, savoring the peace and quiet that was so different from the bustling palace kitchens. Plato sat in a crouch, his chin on one knee as he watched Demeter with polite attention and interest. She smiled at him, and he returned it. Straightening her skirt, Demeter sighed, unable to express her content happiness otherwise.

"Oh, Plato, why won't you come and live at the castle? I'm sure they would love to have you, and it would be a much better place to live than out here in the woods. You could have a soft bed, warm food, nice clothes..."

She let her voice trail away when Plato resolutely shook his head, seeming to laugh rather than grow irritated as Demeter asked him this constantly. She thought it would have been nice for Plato to come and work at the castle with her. She could have a friend to talk to while doing her work, and Plato could have a warm fire to turn to when the weather outside turned to storms instead of hiding in the dangerous woods. But no...the tom was resolute. He was a tom of the woods, and in the woods he would stay.

Mood changing as suddenly as his head stopped shaking, Plato stood to his feet, pulling Demeter up to stand beside him, nearly a full head shorter, with gentle hands as he smiled warmly down at her.

"Something to show you," he purred. Demeter smiled widely, unable to contain her excitement or a small delighted giggle.

"Oh...what is it?"

"Come."

Demeter said nothing, questioned nothing as she had complete confidence in the wild tom as he led her by the hand in a sudden burst of speed over the uneven forest ground, every step perfectly balanced and measured. Demeter laughed out loud in her surprise and delight, giggling as drops of lingering dew splashed onto her face from a fern Plato's tail disturbed. Her lungs drew in the fresh morning air without haste despite the swift, agile run the tom led her through, deeper and deeper into the forest without fear. When it seemed only minutes had passed, the couple stopped at the base of an enormous snaggle-rooted tree at the edge of a clearing in the forest. Demeter placed her hand on the mossy tree trunk to peer out into the sparkling clearing, searching for whatever splendid thing Plato was going to show her. No doubt would it be splendid, she knew. Plato had showed her the most amazing things...seashells from the distant ocean she had never seen, feathers from birds so bright they made the queen's gowns seem dull, insects and creatures among his forest home that rarely any other peasant girl chanced to see. How he obtained these things was a mystery, but not one she was bound to question.

The clearing was empty, however, its tall, wavy grasses swaying in the morning breeze and sparkling in the sunlight that speckled the ground through the canopy of leaves that covered the place. Insects buzzed, birds sang, leaves whispered, but Plato's expected treasure was nowhere to be seen. She looked at him curiously. He only smiled.

"Stay," he whispered, urging her closer to the tree's trunk. Demeter did as she was bid, clasping the tree for balance as she stepped up onto one of the tree's high arching roots, and watched with a curious faith as Plato climbed like a squirrel up into the tree she lingered at, crawling out onto a large branch to overlook the same clearing directly over Demeter's golden mane. Following his gaze, she looked back out into the open forest space, eager and anticipating as she heard him lift one hand to his lips and whistle through it three strange, haunting notes that sent chills up her spine. Plato called the whistle again which seemed to silence all creatures around them, providing a mysterious aura that settled over the place for the creatures that pranced into view.

The most gorgeous and amazing creatures Demeter ever had and ever would see.

"Oh, Plato," she gasped. "They're beautiful!"

Horses. Two horses in perfect response to Plato's beckoning whistle pranced daintily into view from the opposite side of the clearing, more proud and refined than any horse ever possessed by the king himself. The horses, a stallion and a smaller mare, were spotlessly white, the sun falling in shafts over their backs and manes with such brilliance she was blinded. Their hooves were perfectly round and fell in exact precision in one another, stepping with utmost ease and grace among the cool peacefulness of the forest around them, masters of all their surroundings. The very air and grass parted before the sweep of their ivory manes, the trailing white banners of their tails leaving a wake of blooming flowers with their every step. Their dark, shining eyes gazing with a knowledge too deep and too vast for anyone but they to comprehend. When Demeter gazed into them she was lost in wonder, speechless with astonishment and reverence. The flaring breath from their silvery nostrils and mouths was sweeter than roses, bringing life and happiness wherever they looked. But grander than all of these traits, grander than the elegance of their strides, the serenity of their gazes, the beauty of their white bodies, tails, and manes, grander than their very presence which was divine in itself were the two golden spirals that lifted up towards Heaviside from each of the horses' foreheads, shining with their own celestial light.

"Unicorns..." Demeter gasped without her realizing. Too captivated to take her eyes from the majestic creatures, she didn't see Plato's serene smile as he set his chin on his crossed arms, gazing out at the divine horses, letting his legs dangle over the tree branch's sides and swing as he nodded dreamily. She could have stood there for all eternity, simply watching them, dwarfed by their magnificence but loving their peaceful, magical presence. With a sigh Demeter leaned her head against the tree's mossy bark, all else in the world forgotten as she watched the unicorns through half-lidded eyes, imagining herself riding atop their graceful backs through dreams of clouds and endless fields of those wildflowers; Plato would be there to lead her to the most distant corners of the universe where they could explore and share the secrets hidden from the rest of the world. But now, in her childish innocence, she was satisfied with merely watching the beautiful horses, feeling herself grow drowsy, lulled by their presence, as they crossed the small clearing, pausing only once to glance in the direction of the two Jellicles before they moved on, vanishing into the dark forest as mysteriously and dreamlike as they had come.

"How do you call them?" Demeter heard herself ask, her voice quiet and distant. She heard the rustle of leaves and claws on bark as Plato climbed down from his perch, but even then felt the spell of serenity assert its influence until he gently touched her shoulder. Demeter laughed as she finally found it within herself to turn away from the place that had just a moment ago held such beauty, her senses fully returned to notice Plato's misinterpretation.

"Friends."