SquidgeWorld Archive

To Serve the Great and Good
(A Child of the Night story)
By Scribe

When she was a tiny child, her mother would whisper it as she went to sleep. "I won't see you ground into the dirt as naught but a peasant's wife, my girl." She'd stroke Martha's hair, and the soft curls would be tugged by her work roughened hands, and Martha wouldn't care. But her mother would see her small flinch, and resolve would shine in her eyes. "You'll have to work for your bread, child--there's no escaping that without giving up the only thing a woman of our station has. But you won't grub in the fields. You won't be old with bearing babes before you've seen two score years."

She'd be sitting at the side of the girl's rough pallet, after their scanty supper, and before she crawled in beside the man she'd married rather than see her child starve to death. The man who never let her forget that he'd have preferred she left the girl outside some convent--or better yet, sold her to the Rom. The man who spit whenever she voice an ambition for her child beyond mere survival.

"I'll find a way for you to go into service, Martha," she assured the girl, night after night. "Into service for great and good people. You'll work hard for them, and they'll feed you and clothe you better than any that we know now, and they'll do it not just because you're a hard worker, but because you're a good girl. It won't just be for what you give them, but for your own sake as well, because that is what great and good people do--they care for those who are good, but not as great as they. Yes, some day you will serve the great, and the good."

And when her mother had banked the fire and went to her husband's bed, Martha would hear him mocking her mother's dreams, cursing her for giving the girl ideas above her station. He was of the opinion that there might be great people in the world, and there might be good, but they were very seldom one and the same. If they were great, would they notice one peasant child? And if they were good, wouldn't they be too busy helping others simply live to help one peasant child live well?

But Martha never forgot her mother's promise. Some day she would serve the great, and the good.

She wasn't much use, so the man of the house said. She ate too much, though Martha would have been hard pressed to recognize what a full belly felt like. She was too slow drawing water, never gathered enough wood, was too fragile to help with the plowing... "And too ugly to interest anyone who might take her off our hands."

She was twelve when the man who would not let her call him father decided that he would take their scanty crop and their two thin cows and go to a market two days away. As soon as he was gone from sight, her mother had told her to leave her chores, and she had quickly wrapped up everything the girl owned. The bundle was pitifully small. Then they left, trudging in the opposite direction that the man had taken.

That night they slept under a tree. The child shivered with cold and fear as she heard wolves howling, and again the mother had whispered to her. "I saw how he looked at you, Martha. He called you worthless and ugly, but he saw you growing toward womanhood. In a year or two he would have decided there were some things you could do around the house all right, or else he'd have sold you to a pig like himself, and you'd have been lucky if he gave you a name, as well as babies." Martha knew what her mother meant. There were few facts of life kept secret for long in a tiny peasant's hut.

They'd walked long the next day. The girl had wanted to stop at a village, but her mother had urged her on. "It's not far beyond here. We'll be there before night." They'd seen the castle long before they came to it. By the time they reached it, Martha was in awe. She had no idea that man could make anything so grand.

The men at the gate had not wanted to allow them inside. Her mother had pleaded. "We've come so far, please! Surely in a place like this you must need help."

"Maybe so," said the man stolidly, "but they haven't said as they do. An' when they do, there's plenty of our own folk hereabout who need it. We don't need no beggars."

As her mother pleaded with the men, Martha heard the clip of approaching horses' hooves, and she looked around for them. She liked horses.

The two riders came up the slope from the river. As they came closer, the girl thought that the riders rather resembled their horses. One was a tall, fiercely handsome man, riding a black horse. The steed was huge and muscular, and every now and then it would dance a little, as if impatient with its quiet pace. The rider controlled him easily, hardly seeming to notice the animal's restlessness. The other horse was smaller--but sturdy, rather than dainty. It was cream colored, with a dark mane and tail, and it moved along smoothly--almost placidly. Its rider was a fair young man, with dark hair that brushed his shoulders. He was speaking animatedly to his companion. In the thickening dusk, Martha could see that his expression was intelligent and animated.

They came to the gate, and it was clear that they were well known to the guards. Both of the men bowed to them, making no move to bar them entry. The older rider passed through, but the young man reined up as he came abreast of Martha. The little girl felt a thrill that was part excitement, part alarm as she realized that he was looking down at her--that he was SEEING her. She wasn't used to really being seen by an adult. It was a little frightening. Then he smiled at her, and the fear melted. "Hello, little one."

The other rider slowed to a halt, then turned the horse, looking back. "Nicolae?"

"One moment, domn." He looked back at the little girl. "Well, now you know my name. Will you tell me yours?"

Martha realized that everyone was looking at her now. Her mother was staring with apprehension, but she said nothing. It could be a great, good thing to have your child recognized by someone of a higher class--or it could be dangerous. Though she'd never dealt with anyone of greater station than a neighboring farmer who owned a few more cows and pigs than most in the area, Martha knew what was expected. She took hold of each side of her ragged skirt and spread it, dipping an awkward curtsey. "My name is Martha, if it please you, my lord."

Nicolae laughed, and it was a cheering, free sound. "I am no lord, little Martha." He swung his leg over the saddle and slipped down, handing the reins over to one of the guards, who led it on through the gate. He went closer to her, and she gazed up at him, wide-eyed. "Martha is a holy name."

She nodded. "It is in the Bible."

"Yes. Martha was the sister of Lazarus, and a friend of Jesus."

"I don't have a sister. Do you?" She wondered what she had said to make the nice man's smile suddenly turn sad.

"Why are you here, little Martha? You look as if you have walked a long way."

"Yes, a very long way. I'm not sure why we are here."

Nicolae looked over at Martha's mother. "This is your mother?" Martha nodded. He went to her, and Martha could see how in awe her mother was. Her mother curtsied, as Martha had, staying in the dip. He reached out to her. "Please." She straightened up. "It is growing dark. Have you a place to go?"

"No, my lor--"

"Nicolae, please."

"I... I had hoped to find a place for my daughter here at the castle. If you could..." The other rider had dismounted and turned his horse over to a servant. Now he came back to his companion, and the mother fell silent. She realized that though the young man might deny nobility, there was no doubt about this one. She knew that she had reached the castle of Prince Draculea, and this could be no one but he.

"Nicolae, you cannot linger here if we are to bathe before we dine." He glanced at the woman, then more briefly at the child. "Collecting strays?"

"Domn, this woman..."

"You're worried about them being left outside. Very well." He turned and gestured toward the castle. "Simion." A fair-haired man hurried over. "Take these two to the kitchen and see that they're fed and given a place to stay." He looked at Nicolae. "You can speak to them tomorrow, if you want. Satisfied?"

The young man gave him a brilliant smile. Nicolae turned to look at her mother, and the woman nodded eagerly. Nicolae leaned down to Martha. "Simion will take care of you." Martha gave the other man a dubious look. "Oh, it's all right." Nicolae whispered to her, "He looks very stern, but he's a good man." Martha nodded. She had a feeling that she would believe anything that this man told her.

Martha and her mother were escorted through the castle to the kitchens. There Martha saw more food than she had ever seen at one time. For the first time in her memory, she ate until she could eat no more. After such a feast she became sleepy. She and her mother were given a large sack stuffed with straw, and blanket. The room was warm, quiet, and clean. Martha slept deeply and peacefully.

When she awoke she was a little disoriented. Her mother wasn't there. She came out of the little room they had shared, into the kitchen. Her mother was sitting at the table with Nicolae. She was speaking earnestly, and he was listening, face grave. "Are you sure? She's very young."

"Sir, we both know that the children of my people work from the moment that they can. If she stays where she is, there is nothing for her but a short life of pain and weariness. Here... I can tell that she would be safe here, and treated well."

"You don't know us. We might be a fair front before a foul core."

Her mother smiled. She didn't smile often, but when she did, she was almost pretty. "No, sir. I've spent the night among the lowest servants. They are healthy, and unmarked. They do their work cheerfully. They are happy here. I want this for my child."

"And yourself? You can stay, also. You'll be safe here."

She shrugged and said flatly, "If I go back, he will not seek her. This is how it must be, and I won't mind so much, knowing she is safe."

Nicolae noticed Martha, and beckoned her closer. "Good morning, Martha. You slept well?"

"Yes. The bed was so soft."

Nicolae knew what sort of bedding she would have been given, and his gentle heart softened even more, realizing how stark the girl's life must have been to now. "Your mother has asked that we give you a place working here. Would you like that?"

"Oh, yes!" she said immediately. "I'm stronger than I look. I can work hard."

"Would you be brave enough to stay here without your mother?"

Martha swallowed. She looked at her mother. Voice small, she said, "Do you want that?"

"Oh, Martha." She embraced her. "No, my baby, I don't want that. I could never WANT to go away from you. But this is what will be best. You can live here in this beautiful place. You'll have all you need to eat, and they will see that you have clothes--clothes that no one else has ever worn. All you have to do is be a good girl and work. And who knows? Perhaps some day you will marry one of the prince's men."

Martha gaped. "The prince?"

"Yes, Martha," said Nicolae. "The man you saw with me yesterday--he is your prince--Vlad Tepes Draculea."

"Ooooh..." It was a long, soft exclamation. Nicolae might have confided that she had been witness to the Messiah's second coming.

"Would you like to work for the prince?"

She looked at her mother. "It's as you told me, isn't it?" she said in wonder.

"Yes," her mother whispered.

"I want to stay here. I want it very much. I will be a fine servant. I will be a good girl."

Nicolae smiled at her. "The second is the most important, little Martha." He stood up, and took her mother's hand. Holding it, he said gently. "Good lady, if you wish, I can teach the child to read and write."

Her mother looked baffled. "But sir, what would she need with that?"

There was a hint of gentle reproof in his voice. "She could read the holy scriptures."

"If you think it good, sir." Her mother's voice was awed. "That a child of mine could read and write..." She shivered.

"I must attend to my duties. Go in peace. Know that your child will be safe, and she will be happy, if my humble efforts are not in vain."

Her mother curtsied again. "God bless you, good sir. God bless Prince Draculea, for I know that you pled our cause to him."

"The prince is a good man himself," said Nicolae firmly. "It's just that occasionally he needs to be helped to see the small things close by, rather than to keep his eyes fixed on the great and distant." He left the room. Not long after that Martha and her mother said their good-byes. Martha wanted to cry, but she didn't, because her mother was crying, and she didn't want to make her sorrow any greater. Just before she left, her mother embraced her tightly, and whispered in her ear, "Didn't I promise you? You will serve the great, and the good, Martha. The great, and the good."

Martha settled into life at Castle Draculea. She was the youngest servant girl there, but there were several who weren't much older, and they became friends. The work was hard, but easier than what she had been used to. All in all she was happy with her new situation. Oh, it wasn't perfect, but she was practical enough to know that nothing in the mortal realm was. There were a few inhabitants of the castle who were demanding, impatient, imperious, and hard to please. She only saw the Princess Elizabeta once or twice, and the girl took no more notice of her than she might have a dust mote floating through the air. The other one, though--Abul. That one she avoided as much as possible, as she seemed to delight in finding fault, and she was not shy about using both her sharp tongue and her hard hand to express her displeasure.

After Martha had been there for several weeks, the cook told her that she was to go to the library, and no, she didn't know WHY Martha had been summoned, but she was sure the child was in no trouble. Martha wasn't reassured. She crept through the Great Hall to the library. She'd never been in that room, but she knew where it was. She knew that this was the domain of her kind champion--Nicolae--and that gave her some hope.

When she stepped inside, she froze, gazing around in wonder. Never in her life would she have imagined that so many books even existed. "Hello, little Martha." She looked up, and was surprised to find Nicolae coming down a ladder that had been leaned against one wall. He was carrying a strangely shaped book--one that was very large, but very thin. Martha bobbed him a curtsy as he came to her. "Always so polite. Your mother would be proud. Are they treating you well, friend?"

Martha forgot that it was not proper to speak freely to someone of higher rank. Nicolae's friendly manner invited confidences. "Oh, yes! I sleep in a real bed now, with only one other girl. And I have TWO dresses. And I can eat as much as I want at each meal." She patted her stomach. "I am growing fat."

"No, you're just growing."

"I've even gotten to eat sweetmeats. Do you know what they are?"

Nicolae laughed. "I am well acquainted with them. In fact, I am sometimes teased for being too fond of them."

Suddenly serious, Martha said, "I didn't do anything wrong." At Nicolae's puzzled look, she made it a question. "DID I do anything wrong?"

"Oh, you're worried-- No, child, of course not. I didn't call you here to scold, or punish. Do you remember what I promised your mother before she left? I told her that I'd teach you to read and write."

Martha stared, as if he had said that he could teach her to fly. "CAN you?"

"I think so. I have taught several of the other girls to read and write their names, but I'd like to teach you more, if you're willing to learn. It would mean that you'd have to sometimes spend your free time here, studying."

"Here?" She looked around, then turned shining eyes back to him. "This is the most beautiful room I've ever seen, and I could be here?"

He smiled softly. "I love it, too. It's very special." His voice dropped confidingly. "And do you know what the most special thing is about it? It was given to me by someone I love. When someone you love gives you something, it's very precious. Now," he showed her the book. "I thought that first you might like to look at this. It has the most fantastic drawings of fabulous beasts--unicorns and mermaids..." Martha didn't think it was possible for her to be any more content, but now she was.

One day, not long after her lessons began, she was scrubbing the front staircase, murmuring under her breath, "A, B, C, D, E..." Prince Draculea started down, and she moved quickly to the side, out of his way. She expected him to just sweep past, as was usual for anyone of greater station than the servants. But a few steps down he slowed, then turned, looking back at her curiously. "You're Nicolae's pet." She froze as he came back up the steps to stand beside her. She looked up warily. Prince Draculea was an impressive man to start with--seen like this, he was a giant.

Vlad cocked his head, studying the child. "Mary. No--Martha. Yes, Martha. Tell me, do you know all of your letters?" She nodded. "Say them for me." Martha managed to croak out the letters, stumbling only a little, remembering them all, and getting them in the right order. "I'm impressed. It took longer for my tutor to pound that information into me--but then I was a disinterested learner back then. I've since learned the value of knowledge. Nicolae is very proud of you, you know." He watched the pride enter her expression, and smiled. "Yes, you know. He isn't one to hide his approval. Well, I hope you intend to continue your studies. It makes him very happy."

He started to turn away, and Martha said impulsively, "My prince?" Draculea cocked an eyebrow at her enquiringly. "Did you give Nicolae the library?"

Draculea was amused that such a small and humble servant would dare to ask anything of him; especially a question that she did not realize could have deep meaning. "My ancestors started the library, but yes--I gave it to Nicolae."

"I'm glad."

Draculea fought down a laugh. He bowed to her ironically. "I am glad it meets with your approval."

She watched him go, then nodded to herself, and resumed her work. Lately she had been feeling sad, because she found that her memory of her mother's face was beginning to fade, but she knew that she would never forget her mother's voice. 'Someday you will serve the great, and the good.'

*You spoke the truth, Mother,* she thought. *Though I think that you looked at Prince Draculea and saw him as great, and looked at Nicolae and saw him as good. This is true, very true. The prince is the greatest ruler our people have had for a long, long time, and no one can deny Nicolae's goodness--he shines with it. But Draculea is good, too. He sees me when he looks at me, not like some of the others, and he speaks to me kindly. He loves Nicolae, and anyone who loves Nicolae must be good. And Nicolae is great. He can do the most wonderful things--give knowledge to others, and give them hope. Make them feel that they are of worth.*

She dipped her brush again in the bucket and continued her work, thinking that she could already write her name, and that Nicolae had promised to copy out some Bible stories for her, even binding them into a little book. *You kept your promise, Mother. I serve them both. I serve the great, and the good.*

The End