Black Grey White

Episode 2 - Hunger

“Where is the girl? I want her to bring me some wine and a small plate of delicacies,” the brother called out as he lounged upon the parlor sofa, his good hand resting over his growling stomach.

Nàva knew she must arrive as swiftly as possible with all of the things he desired. He favored her, and that favor had proven most valuable to her survival. She did not wish to lose his satisfaction—he alone had kept her from being sent away to those strangers who were searching for her, people she did not know and feared to meet.

Within mere minutes she appeared before the master, setting down a gleaming cup of wine and an ornate plate laden with fine morsels.

“Is there anything more you require, my lord?” she asked obediently.

“Have you eaten today?” he asked, drinking eagerly from the cup.

“Yes, my lord. What there was this morning,” she answered shortly.

“And what did your master give you to eat this morning?”.

“As always—a slice of bread and a cup of milk.”

“You may take this egg, if you wish,” he said quietly, glancing aside as though avoiding watchful eyes. He extended the unpeeled egg toward her.

“Thank you very much, my lord,” she replied politely.

“Now go to the kitchen and bring me an apple, sliced,” he added calmly. And she—vanished like a whispering wind, slipping past the scrutinizing gaze of the master who had just crossed her path.

He settled beside his brother in the parlor and said with irritation,

“You are fond of that slave as though you were an only son.”, “Mind your own affairs and let me eat in peace,” the brother muttered impatiently, draining the last of the wine from his cup.

“I am beginning to tire of you, old man,” the master hissed in irritation. “Give this family an heir, and you shall not have to look at me again in all your days. Then I may pass most of the estate to him and keep for myself only a small parcel of land and a pleasant house,” the brother replied.

As he spoke, his gaze drifted toward Nàva, who had just arrived with the apple—cut into thin slices, red and fresh, arranged neatly upon a plate just as he liked. “Take this piece. Eat it. It is less pleasing to my eyes,” the brother said, handing her a slice of the apple. “And fill my cup with wine again—another this time, something more lively.”

“You have always been spoiled,” the master muttered coldly.

“Be silent, you fool,” the brother shot back.

“Yes, my lord,” Nàva answered softly. She placed the slice of apple into her mouth and hurried away to refill his cup.

“And bring me a slice of bread with butter and jam as well—make it thick!” he shouted from the parlor.

She returned with what he had asked for and set the plate upon the table. He examined it closely, then said,

“Remove this dark part for me. I do not like it—it is too burnt.” “Stop playing with food,” the master demanded sharply.

“Be quiet and stop disturbing me while I eat. If I desire only the white part of the bread, then that is exactly what I shall have—and so it shall be with anything I choose to eat. Do you hear me?” the brother snapped, lifting the cup of wine in his hand and draining it to the very last drop.

“You—you may go and help in the kitchen for now,” the master muttered sharply to Nàva.

“You are going nowhere,” the brother snapped at once. “I want another cup of wine.” “You have had enough for today,” the master grumbled.

“Oh, truly? And who will decide how much I drink—my foolish brother?” he demanded angrily, hurling the wine cup against the wall, where it shattered.

“You drunken fool—close your mouth and let the servant return to the kitchen. We shall eat soon. Wait with patience,” the master hissed, striking him across the face with a sharp slap.

“And mark my words, old man—you stand by my mercy, do you hear? In this house, I decide how things are done. If it displeases you, you are welcome to leave.”

“I am welcome to leave? I?” the brother roared. “I, who gave you lands and great sums of gold so you would not end your days in the street? I, who found you wives, who gave my life for you? You wretched ingrate! At this rate I shall take back all that you possess and cast you out into the gutter. Do you understand? Know your place!”

“You are forever making threats and never carrying them out,” the master scoffed. “Perhaps I ought to begin carrying them out upon you. Perhaps then you would understand exactly where your behavior leads. It is no wonder our father left you with nothing but a boat and no more—he wished you as far from us as possible. He knew well the kind of trouble you bring. A foolish, spoiled little child,” the master said with cold, quiet anger.

With that he turned and walked away.

With a flick of his hand he called,

“You—come with me. We are leaving.”

Dragging her along behind him, Nàva followed as he led her to the kitchen. There he ordered her to taste from the many dishes already prepared.

“You will taste this stew,” he said, gesturing toward the pot. “Tell me if it is ready—and if it is, serve me some. The wine has stirred my hunger.”