 |
| Though it had seemed so much longer to the young girl than a mere hour, Demeter found herself wandering back towards Castle Jukard as one would wake from a dream: with a questioning, wondering if the past events were indeed real or images drawn from the mind. Singing her sweet song yet again, though much quieter as her mind could only think of the magnificent creatures she had seen, Demeter held her untied apron by one corner and let it drift around her in the soft breeze, her song dropping into a melodious hum as the castle's dark silhouette came into view. Plato had accompanied her on her journey back as far as the forest's edge and would go no further. In a strange path of thought Demeter discovered herself withholding envy for him. Plato who was absolutely free from all the bonds of Jellicle society, who at liberty called unicorns his friends, lived in the forest as though his own palace. How wonderful it must have been! Closing her eyes to breathe in deep the drifting smells of a feast when she drew near the castle walls, Demeter enriched her soul more than she could ever recall. Having experienced the magnificence of a unicorn, and now these royal luxuries...how could life possibly be any more grand? |
|
| "Who goes there!" called down a steady voice when Demeter came into earshot of the high walls surrounding the castle. Startled from her private bliss, the young girl's green eyes turned up to the posted guard upon the wall's top walkway. Waving up into the cool morning air that still lingered in the castle's shadow, Demeter smiled warmly. |
|
| "Only myself, Tumblebrutus. Back from my morning walk to serve at breakfast!" Spreading her golden-furred arms out to the side, she twirled like a dancer so her ragged brown skirt fanned out, her laughter uncontained. The young soldier soon followed suit. |
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| "Indeed," the tom laughed in return with a tilt of his spear. "You had better hurry, young miss." |
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| With a thankful wave Demeter dashed into the palace grounds, using the same small servant's entrance to gain access through the thick stone walls. |
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| Her return did not go unnoticed. The kitchens were still unbelievably busy when Demeter's soft footsteps lightly padded across the flat brick-like stones that made up the floor, her green-eyed gaze watching carefully as much movement around her as possible. The air remained just as heavy with spices, heat, and the delicious odors of well-prepared food as when she had left, if not moreso, and the young servant girl began to think she'd made it safely across to the front entrance of the enormous kitchens without being noticed when suddenly a sharp cry of her name rang out. Demeter gasped as she felt her wrist grabbed by a much stronger, much larger grip, and whirling back as her heart leaped into her throat she dropped her apron uselessly to the floor, lifting her eyes wide in astonishment to see only Jenny's. |
|
| "Demeter!" Jennyanydots scowled, the wooden spoon in her free hand waving perilously close to Demeter's slim, captured wrist. "Heaviside help me, young girl, where in the world have you been? The breakfast has already started and you're not up there to help serve!" |
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| "Oh Jenny, I'm so sorry!" Demeter pleaded, trying quite unsuccessfully to free her trapped wrist. "I must have lost track of time. It shall never happen again, I promise--!" |
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| "Nevermind that, girl," Jenny huffed with a toss of Demeter's hand away, her whiskers which had stood forward so aggressively finally relaxing back into their streamlined place. "Change your clothes and get your pretty self up there. Go on, now! If you're lucky none of the family will notice." Already Demeter was nodding fervently, clasping her paws behind her for protection as she backed away towards the main entrance, tail curled modestly about her calf. "I shall deal with you later, dearie. Now go! And we'll see how many more times to go sneak out to visit that sweetheart before breakfast!" |
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| Having forgotten her apron, Demeter purred a final: "Yes ma'am," and turned to run, the brown rags of her servant's dress streaming behind her as she made quickly for her designated quarters, leaving the head mistress of Jukard to her fussing. The servants' quarters made up the majority of the underground floor of Castle Jukard: that part of which was allowed to be roamed, of course. Despite their mere status as workers within the castle walls, Jukard's many servants and guards were well cared for. Two workers to a room that was of decent size, males and females were kept very much separated. Being the simple girl that she was, Demeter did not mind the near-identical appearance of each room, distinguished only by numbers and titles. She had her bed pushed against one of the walls, beside it a small dresser where all her clothes were kept, her personal trinkets and treasures either hidden away beneath the mattress or amid the drawers. Lying in her bed at night, she could gaze up through the one window placed high up in the wall of her room, just peeking above the ground level outside the castle, to sometimes see the stars before falling asleep. Even sometimes the moon. Those warm summer nights when she listened to the music of crickets and nocturnal birds, the rhythmic tap of the guards as they paced the walls, the gentle breathing of her roommate who was also a servant girl about Demeter's age, she would think of Plato and wondering if he was faring well in the forest at night. He must have heard similar things such as crickets and birds, perhaps even so much more filling the world of his so secluded from civilization. But Demeter would have to wait until the next night fall to think of such things, for now her service was required at breakfast. |
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| A plain black dress was hanging on one of the posts of her meager bed. A soft material trimmed in white lace and silk, these types of dresses were not usually supplied to the servants of Jukard, who were content to work in their comfortable, worn old rags. It was only when ambassadors from neighboring countries visited the castle, such as were now from the Pollicle lands, that the servants and many workers were dressed up for show. Demeter quite liked the idea of a new dress, a small smile playing about her features as she gently closed the door to the room behind her, her roommate having already gone no doubt, and held the dress up by it's shoulders to admire. "Why must it always be black?" she nevertheless sighed, exchanging her ragged clothes that were normally used for kitchen work to slip the dress on in their place. It was a very comfortable material that clung to her form securely enough to work, but maintaining that modest appearance of a servant. A series of buttons lined up the front that Demeter had to work frantically at to get attached. Buttons were marvelous things, she knew, especially since a servant girl as her rarely had the luxury of them, but the way they seemed to tug and catch in her fur became quickly irritating. Having finished, she straightened the material down, pulling the white fringe of the sleeves that reached just below her elbows out into their full fluffiness, giggling as she did likewise with the edge of the dress's skirt and the way it tickled her feet. She slipped into her matching shoes, also polished and not normally supplied but for special occasions, brushed out her golden mane of hair, tied it back into a silky black piece of cloth so that it might not fall into her face while serving, and giving a final look over herself in a small hand-held mirror, the young girl smiled delightedly at her appearance and hurried upstairs to join the others at work. |
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| Not a servant in all of Felinera had been ever known to complain about the work they were given at Jukard. Most servants were lodged at the castle itself, paid fair wages, and treated quite justly by the royal family. Demeter in fact quite liked her work in the kitchens, where she could sometimes sneak bits and pieces of the lovely food prepared there just as she had done that morning. Working inside the castle as a server and kitchen girl she had always thought much better than having to be one of the maids, who cleaned all day, or a guard who had to stand out in the hot sun hour by hour in their meager but nonetheless stifling hot armor, or the peasants in the town-city below who had to farm and make their own livings. She was quite happy here, in fact, though the feeling of trouble couldn't be helped as she approached warily the servant's entrance to the enormous dining hall, where two streams of her fellow workers trailed in and out, carrying empty dishes to the kitchens for washing or full platters and pitchers into the room for eating. An incredible bounty... Sneaking along low in her black-clad profile Demeter's wide, curious eyes peeked into the room once she was close enough to the doorway, keeping to the side so as to stay out of the pathway of others, her mouth quite literally falling open at the inside spectacle. |
|
| Not a seat remained vacant at the long, richly-clad table that centered the entire hall. She recognized for herself a number of the Jellicles seated there. At the center of one side was Deuteronomy himself, the king so beloved by all of Felinera, on his right side his eldest son Munkustrap, the sole heir to Jukard's throne, and on down the line the king's brother and his family; taking up the other side were cats she would recognize by name but had never met: the highest officers and council inhabiting Jukard, all patterns and manner of colorful, elegantly-dressed male and female Jellicles that, framed by the lush surroundings and supplies, made an extravagant spectacle. But on the other side of the table, clad just as richly but in such more dire colors of browns, grays, and blacks, were the Pollicles. Truth be told Demeter had only ever heard stories and rumors about the infamous savage dogs of the East, about their feral ways and lack of dignity that so distinguished them from the Jellicle Cats, but gazing upon them now Demeter could only smile and doubt the truthfulness of any of those kitten tales. The race of canine beings did indeed appear savage upon first glance, Demeter seeing only their large fangs when they spoke and intimidating size. But their table manners, the way they conversed quietly with the cats across from them, offered a more gentle view of the Pollicles, and the young golden-furred girl would have remained there the rest of the meal to stare in secret had it not been for the insistent nudge of a fellow servant behind her. |
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| "Here Demeter," he said gently, handing over a large pitcher of wine into her slim hands. "Get on in. The Pollicles won't bite. Just take care you don't drop anything!" |
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| Demeter hefted the pitcher up as best she could, perfectly able to handle the pitcher had it not been so unusually heavy. She grunted in an effort to stand up straight, holding the pitcher before her like it was nothing just as she'd been taught to do, and taking in a deep breath to calm her nervousness, she fell into line with the other servants, carrying herself in with moderate, easy steps. |
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| One of the Pollicles's booming voices was echoing off the large walls as she entered, the embroidered tapestries, lavish paintings, and decorated flags that hung over the gray stones doing little to dull the strength of it. "It is certainly not a topic fit for discussion so early in the morning," a gruff male was barking loud enough for all to hear. "But as I've told the Ambassador, and I'm sure you know Deuteronomy, the concept of war between our two respectful nations seems quite inevitable with the developing tensions along our borders." |
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| As Demeter was walking along the Pollicle-inhabited side of the table, she could not see the faces of the many dogs as they were turned away from her. She could hear their heavy breathing as she passed by, however, moving to the opposite end of the table where nobody sat, their throaty growls and whines that made up a speech only the Pollicles could understand. Their scent as well was much stronger than she could remember any cat's being. The way servants of Jukard had been taught, they were not allowed to look directly at their superiors while serving at the tables, but even so Demeter couldn't help but risk a quick glance across the table to where the Jellicles sat just as she passed the center. For a moment, a very brief moment, she feared Prince Munkustrap's eyes had ventured to meet hers as well, thus catching her in the act of breaking a very important rule. Snapping her gaze back as quickly as possible, she walked on, listening if not always looking. |
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| "Needless to say," the much more gentle, rumbling voice of Deuteronomy returned in a quiet laugh. "That is why we've agreed to meet here for these few days...to discuss those current tensions and see if there is a better alternative to war as a solution." |
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| "Which may not be likely," rose up the familiar voice of Munkustrap, not half so deep as his father's but ever the more strong and steady. "It is not among the Jellicle people that any of these tensions reside. It is only in your Pollicle tactics, hungry for more land to add to your already expanding empire, that you feel the need to stir up trouble on the Eastern border." |
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| "Munkustrap!" Deuteronomy said suddenly, silencing the young man of silver-striped fur, who immediately looked properly crestfallen. "I must apologize for my son's words, General. Ambassador. I can assure you he does not know both sides of what he speaks." |
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| "Then let us hear him," said a Pollicle, the same as before. "Speak up, young cat. If you are to one day head this nation you may as well learn what you can. Come, what are your views on the situation?" |
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| Demeter heard Munkustrap take a slow breath as a distinct quiet settled over the dining hall, broken only by the odd tinkle of glasses or plates, the shuffling sound of footsteps. "It is my opinion, with all due respect, sir, that I have a very valid argument. The Pollicle Empire has been a large and dominant one throughout the majority of history. There is no doubt about that. We have avoided open warfare for well over a century, Jellicle and Pollicle lands, but in recent times..." A pause just as Demeter reached the end of the long table. "I think your leaders have plans to extend your borders, and indeed Felinera lies directly in your path and would make a very rich target." |
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| More quiet, and ever the more tension. The same Pollicle spoke up. "I see...you think we Pollicles are becoming too greedy?" |
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| "Not at all, General. It is perfectly logical for a strong empire such as yours to want to conquer as much as possible. I can only hope you don't succeed for, and not only because it would mean the dethroning of my father and myself, but I believe Felinera under Pollicle rule would ultimately lead to disaster." |
|
| "How so?" growled the canine male. Demeter, the other servants, even the Pollicles and royal attendants had ceased to move, listening expectantly for each response. |
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| "Your institution of slavery, for one," Munkustrap answered, his voice never rising, seeming quite sure of himself. "You say your economy depends upon it, but with the research I have done I've read nothing that says otherwise to the fact that your slaves are merely a source of labor. You enslave a percentage of the peoples you conquer, turn them against one another, destroy cultures and traditions that have been carefully preserved by each race throughout history. Nor are you Pollicles known for your kindness and mercy, your compassion towards slaves and each other. Is it not true that your current leader put to death his own father for all the world to see, himself gaining then control of your empire and no one questioning it?" |
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| "Munkustrap," Deuteronomy said softly. "That is quite enough." |
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| "How old might you be, young cat?" the same Pollicle-the General-asked after a moment. |
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| "I've yet to be twenty," Munkustrap answered, much quieter than before. |
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| "Is that so?" the black-furred man hummed, seeming to break the tension in the air as he leaned back in his chair and laughed, a sinister sound that lifted the fur along Demeter's spine. "Then let me tell you something, young cat. You speak so confidently about your knowledge, having sat back in the safety of some library and read what you presume to be true simply because it's written. But hear me: until you have lived a Pollicle life for over the course of forty years as I have, don't presume to think you know how our livelihoods are run, or our economies and governments." |
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| "I'm sure he meant no offense," said another Pollicle, who Demeter guessed to be the leader of the group. The Ambassador. He didn't seem as deep-voiced, or even as physically large, as the General, but the authority of rank seemed to silence the other dog. Demeter knew actually very little about the things the royals and their guests were discussing, but it sounded important. Arms growing weary from holding up the heavy pitcher, Demeter shifted it in her grasp, wishing someone would beckon her quickly so she could pour some of the heavy liquid out. "Deuteronomy, you have shown a remarkable offer of hospitality since we arrived. Allow me this chance to thank you properly now?" |
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| "By all means, Ambassador," Deuteronomy smiled, standing from his seat, his eyes landing upon Demeter among the crowd. "Here now! Damson wine, the finest ever made." A clap of his large hands, and Demeter hurried forward to the Pollicle who had spoken, lugging the pitcher of wine with her. There was no hesitance in the action, as she had been trained to do such things as slipping between two closely-seated people to pour drink into a sitting goblet, and concentrating as intently as Demeter was upon not spilling any of the royal red liquid she poured from the heavy pitcher, the young girl did not notice the two large, burly male dogs on either side of her. Not right away. When she drew back the pitcher the tablecloth beneath remained untouched for all her efforts, and Demeter smiled satisfactorily to herself, stepping back as the large, brown-furred Ambassador in his gray cloak and tunic stood up in his seat to reach for his freshly-filled goblet, holding it into the air to make a toast. Demeter stepped back, intent on getting out of the way, but was unable to do so. |
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| "Allow me to say," the Ambassador's strong voice rang out clear, drawing all attention. "That just as the kindness of our host Deuteronomy has shown, let this magnificent meal be the first event in numerous days to lead to a long-lasting peace between our two nations. As birds cross our borders in the freedom of the skies without inhibition every season, let it be so among us." He lifted his glass high into the air in toast, his noble words praised by the rising yeowls and barks, Deuteronomy sitting opposite him quickly joining in heartfelt warmth. They drank to the success of their efforts, but cowering below the noise, Demeter could not draw a single breath. |
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| After having filled the Ambassador's portion of damson wine, the young gold-furred girl had backed away to return to her proper place at the edge of the table. But the Pollicle General, sitting on the Ambassador's right from where Demeter served, barked gruffly to her, indicated his goblet as well which Demeter submissively bent again to fill. Her eyes focused on the silver cup, ears flicking backwards against the noise rising around her, Demeter remained steadfast in her determination not to look up to her superiors, even when she felt the hot, damp breath of a panting dog on the bare fur of her neck. In automatic reaction to the tingling sensation her tail curled agitatedly, betraying her discomfort until she slowly withdrew her now much-lighter pitcher and, unable to help herself, glanced up through the fringe of her golden mane. The General's eyes stared down at her: golden rays of piercing light from the depths of a stark black face. It was a timid glance, intended to be brief, but upon contact Demeter felt the blood run cold in her veins, breath halting in her throat. Even when the Pollicle's muscular black forearm reached out to clamp over her wrist, preventing her from backing away any further, the young girl's wince did little to help. The grip was tight, painful; it was all Demeter could do simply to watch the General's black lips slide back over his milk-white fangs--like daggers--gleaming in the candlelight from the tables. Her own parted to cry out. |
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| "General?" instead came the smooth voice of Munkustrap once the cheers had died down. Both gazes snapping across to the prince, just as soon seeing the striking young Jellicle rise from his seat as well. "Is something wrong?" |
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| A blast of hot breath escaped the black dog's powerful jaws, and with a rough reluctance allowed his captor escape. "No, young sir. Nothing at all." |
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| Stumbling to regain her balance with the heavy pitcher still in her grasp, Demeter hurried away, once again her gaze fixed upon the floor, her steps small and hurried as she shuffled back to her proper place far from the General's seat. Breakfast continued, no one noticing of the servant girl's presence or misadventures. |
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| "Very well spoken, Ambassador," Deuteronomy praised after retaking his seat. "Sit down, Munkustrap." |
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| "No," barked the same dark-furred General, gesturing with a gleaming table knife. "The young cat is eager to talk. Let him speak! Surely you Jellicles have tales to tell. War ballads, perhaps? Some heroic epic for entertainment?" |
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| Deuteronomy laughed full-heartedly. "Should there be one thing my son truly loves, it is the history of all nations and races. Come, Munkustrap..." He extended one gentle hand towards his striped son, who smiled grimly in return. "You have a fine voice." |
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| "Of course, father," the young silver tabby nodded as he moved from his seat, pushing back the folds of his red cloak while a servant moved forward to take the heavy material from his shoulders. Demeter kept her silence with the other servants gathered round the dining hall, standing tall and straight, their hands folded behind their backs who had nothing to hold and heads slightly bowed. Even so, at least once each and every slave in the room risked the punishment rewarded by glancing up to the Prince of Jukard as he narrated. |
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| "I present to you," Munkustrap's well-developed tenor voice echoed over the vast spanse of the room, "a war ballad from your own records of history. From your civil war, I believe. The Battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles." |
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| "Of course he would choose one with a Jellicle hero," the General scoffed. |
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| "Silence," the Ambassador growled. "It is an accurate account of what happened." |
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| Munkustrap nodded, bowed curtly, and began. |
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| "The Pekes and the Pollicles, everyone knows, |
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| Are proud and implacable passionate foes; |
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| It is always the same, wherever one goes. |
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| And Pekes and Pollicles, although most people say |
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| That they do not like fighting, will often display |
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| Every symptom of wanting to join in the fray. |
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| Now on the occasion of which I shall speak |
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| Almost nothing had happened for nearly a week |
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| (And that's a long time for a Pol or a Peke). |
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| The weather that winter had been heavy with heat- |
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| None know the reason, but most people think |
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| Divine patience had been pushed to the brink-- |
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| And no one at all dared show face on the street |
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| When Peke and Pollicle army happened to meet. |
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| They did not advance, or exactly retreat, |
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| But they glared at each other, and scraped their hind feet. |
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| Now when these bold fighters together assembled, |
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| The air nearly stopped, and the very ground trembled, |
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| And each of the armies were so armed to the teeth: |
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| So thick that they covered the ground beneath. |
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| When suddenly, up riding from the North, |
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| The Great Rumpus Cat came stalking forth! |
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| His eyes were like fireballs fearfully blazing, |
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| He gave a great yawn, and his jaws were amazing; |
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| And when he looked out over the war-torn scene, |
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| You never saw anything fiercer or as mean. |
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| And what with the glare of his eyes and his yawning, |
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| The Pekes and the Pollicles quickly took warning. |
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| He looked to Heaviside and he gave a great leap-- |
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| And they every last one of them scattered like sheep." |
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| With an illustrious bow, Munkustrap's performance was met with great applause...save from the General. His chin set in one hand, the black-furred Pollicle sniffed disdainfully. It did not merit an approving look from the Ambassador, but went unpunished all the same. Smiling with a certain smug grin upon his features, Munkustrap straightened, holding up one hand for silence as he belted the final line of the song well-known by any learned Jellicle: |
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| "All hail and all bow to the Great Rumpus Cat!" |
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| The dashing striped tom remained standing proudly, one hand set upon his chair, as another nod confirmed the quiet applause. "Still not satisfied, General? Is it not enough that the very song was written by a Pollicle?" |
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| "Praising a Jellicle so highly, indeed," the General growled. His eyes darting to the side, the General waved one arm in indication for more wine, his growling continuing on the whole while. "Our stuck-up cousins from the North wanted to divide our nation between Peke and Pollicle; enough to start a civil war over it. Yet we are not three battles into the so-called war when your beloved Ruckus Cat...or what you may call him...rides into the midst of our own business to put an end to it all." |
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| "Yet he did it by his lonesome," Munkustrap countered with polite mockery. "Surely that warrants some merit. He could have very well been killed by two opposing armies." |
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| "He nearly was," the General growled darkly. "If you recall--" |
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| The Pollicle was interrupted by a sudden crash. Leaping to their feet, some of the seated guests drew weapons, expecting any sort of attack. Guards sprang forward, armed and ready to defend their superiors, though by the time the calm had settled enough for all gazes to find the source of the crash, all that could be seen was the servant girl Demeter on her knees beside a broken wine pitcher. |
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| "Clumsy girl!" Deuteronomy exclaimed, his deep voice ringing off the rafters of the vast room. Cringing from the sound as though delt a physical blow, the young girl crouched down on the floor, her hands and dress front growing soaked in the spilled wine as she tried desperately to gather up the shards of pitcher. But the tears of humiliation and shame were already streaking her face. "Clean that mess up," she heard Deuteronomy's voice say, none the less sharp and piercing. Trembling, her small hands reached out, only succeeding in making more of a mess by dropping the pieces again. Gasping, she reached for the shards, and froze when a pair of silver-black hands moved into her sight. Her entire body going rigid, even her tears halting in their streak down her face, she looked up to see Munkustrap himself kneeling beside her. All she could do was stare. It didn't occur to her at the time, but Demeter should have known she would be severely punished for this. Not only had she disrupted the royal family's meal, but she continued staring even when Munkustrap's eyes returned to hers. |
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| "Are you alright?" was what she heard him say, soft and gentle. Demeter's own mouth fell open. |
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| "Well, isn't this interesting," the General's harsh voice cut the otherwise still air. Munkustrap looked away, and Demeter thus was finally able to breathe again. "Tell me, Deuteronomy. Is it your custom for princes to get down on their own knees to help a slave?" |
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| Hearing this, Demeter's wide green eyes turned up in fear at the prince before her. His own gaze was harsh, fixed across the distance to where the Pollicle general's back was contemptuously turned. Rising up, Munkustrap towered over the young servant girl who expected nothing short of a harsh word to save face. Instead, he offered a hand to her, breath held in defiance of the General's words. Too frightened to move under the weight of tension, Demeter did nothing. |
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| "General," Deuteronomy ventured to say, retaking his seat. "I remind you that none of the workers in this castle are here by force. We Jellicles do not keep slaves, but hire servants." |
|
| "I apologize for General Rawn's prejudices," the Ambassador's soothing voice calmed somewhat the built tension. Demeter saw the stiffness with which the brown-furred Pollicle reached out to clamp a hand upon the General's shoulder, the look passing between them not a kind one. "That is why he is commander of the Pollicle army...and I am commander of him." |
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| The dogs bristled at each other, and frightened by the fires she saw burning in their eyes, Demeter finally reached out to take Munkustrap's offered hand. With a well-founded strength the silver tabby helped her to her feet, her dress front stained a crimson red from wine and soaked thoroughly. "It can be safely said breakfast is over," he purred, looking down to Demeter though her gaze remained fixed on the floor. "You should go get cleaned up." |
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| "Y-Yes sir, my lord...right away." |
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