The Servant’s Fountain

Rhodri stood in the ankle-deep pool, cupped his hands and drank and drank. To amuse his sisters, Adolphus mimed kicking his backside. When the young pepper was done helping himself, Adolphus loudly declared, “After you, ladies.”

“Thank you, Adolphus,” Claire answered, “how thoughtful you are. Bettina should drink first, as she’s youngest.”

Rhodri showed no embarrassment but sat on a bench with his feet in the pool.

“Can’t reach,” Bettina said.

Although Lady Aubergine encouraged the children to fit in as much as possible, they refused the Palace custom of going barefoot. It seemed a wonderful idea at first, and they enjoyed themselves immensely for a few hours until Mirabelle wondered if it would not slow down any chance of escape. They put their sturdy boots back on. It would never do to be unprepared to run.

Claire, who could reach the fountain’s spout without getting her boots wet, delivered handfuls of water to her sister until she was sated.

“I don’t know why you all-”

“Shut up, Rhodri,” Adolphus said.

“Adolphus!” Claire looked up from her own drink. “Manners.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Rhodri whined.

“Why do we wear shoes? The palace grounds are carefully tended with legions of servants combing the grass, you should trust her majesty to provide for your every comfort blah blah blah.”

“Oh. Well. I just don’t know why-”

“Please, Rhodri,” Claire snapped, “we’ve heard it – can we just sit and listen to the birds, or something? Just not argue?”

“Anything for you, Claire,” the boy pouted, “as long as he stops being so-”

Claire glared at him and walked away, towards the food plots. Rhodri subsided; there was no point in complaining to Adolphus. Bettina climbed up onto the benches and walked around the circle. When she got to Rhodri she put a hand on his head to steady herself and walked on his legs. He sat perfectly still for this treatment, as she still held her stick. When she got to the gap between benches that provided access to the drinking spout, she held her arms out to Adolphus, who picked her up and flew her over to the next bench, where she began her circuit again. On the fourth time around, she stopped directly behind the spout.

She leaned towards the carved wooden pillar, observing it closely. Adolphus sauntered over to see what she was up to, because it might be more interesting than waiting to start a fight with Rhodri, which is what he had been doing. Bettina took her ball-game stick and poked at the pillar. A flake of mud fell off into the pool. She scraped at it and more fell.

“What have you got there?” Adolphus asked her.

“Picture,” she said.

Adolphus climbed onto the bench and knelt, stretching to reach the pillar. Clumps of dry mud flaked off in his hands, revealing indistinct carvings underneath. He retrieved his pocketknife and began scraping in earnest. Bettina wriggled out of her boots and jumped into the pool, scooping water onto the carvings,  scrubbing at them.

“What are you doing?” Rhodri demanded. “You’re making the water muddy.”

“So? You’re not drinking it.”

“I’m absorbing it. Mummy says I have sensitive ankles with lots of phloem passages.”

“That sounds nasty,” Adolphus said.

“It isn’t! You have them too.”

“Bet I don’t,” he muttered, scraping at another section of dried mud.

“You’re just coarse and rude and not as sensitive as I.”

“I’ll show you sensitive, you snitch.” Adolphus stood on the bench, fists balled into fighting stance. “Any time you’re ready.”

Rhodri ignored the challenge. “What’s that in your hand?”