To Be Chosen By A God

Chapter 2

                “There will be no bowing of any kind in my house.”  His voice sent shivers down her spine.  It was the voice of one used to command.  It was deep but still smooth as silk.  “On your feet, Chelsea.”  She slowly stood, still in awe of the man in front of her.  He did not offer to take any of her things, but instead turned away from her.  “Follow me.”  She picked up her bag and baskets and followed after him.  “Today you are to acquaint yourself with this house and where things are.  Tomorrow you will begin your duties.  You are to make breakfast, lunch and dinner for us, keep the place clean and free of dust, you are to make your own clothing, and have the water basin for the shower full for the morning when I take my shower.  You are also tasked with laundry and making any household products such as soap, and candles among other things.  You may choose to make me clothing, but it is not required of you.  If you do not know how to spin, weave, or sew, I would suggest you learn quickly as you will only be clothed in what you can make yourself.”  As he spoke, her heart sank.  She was to be his live in maid and cook?  Is that what he called a wife?  He was, of course listening to her thoughts to gauge her reactions.  He always hated the first few months and sometimes even the first year as he had to break his chosen wife from her preconceived notions of him.  He had found that this tactic was the one that worked the best as she had to see him as a man to be loved and not a god to be worshiped.

                He continued into the kitchen.  “There are a few things here you will not be familiar with.”   He gestured to a large rectangular box.  “This is a cooler.  On one side, things can be frozen for later and on the other is cool storage.  There are blue crystals within each.  The one on the left would freeze you instantly should you touch it.  The last time it happened, I didn’t even hear so much as a yelp, so I’m sure it was a rather instant death.  The other will leave you chilled to the bone for a good week or so.  Do not touch the crystals for any reason.”

                He gestured to another box, but much shorter than the cooler.  It reminded her of her mother’s oven.  “This is an oven and stove, as you can see, there are three of them.  There is another crystal inside that regulates the temperature.  You can control that setting with the knobs here.”  He pointed to the knobs and what each controlled.  “Do not touch the crystal inside.  The last time that happened, the scream was loud and horrible as they burned to death.  There is another heat crystal for the shower, but you will be unable to reach it.”

                He then led her to his bedroom.  “You may put your things in here.  This is our bedroom where your last duty is as my bed warmer.”  By now she was horrified and this new revelation was a slap in the face.  He would expect her to……even that night?  She held back her tears.  “I have work to attend to.  Get to know this house but I will warn you that if you try to leave, I will have to punish you.”  He left her to her own thoughts as he went back to his work room.  That was the hardest thing he ever had to do.  He could have chosen not to listen to her thoughts, but felt that if he had to be so harsh, he deserved to listen to her faith in him break and shatter.

                Margaret was waiting for him in his work room with his midday meal.  “How did it go?” She asked.  Margaret of the Haven was his most trusted follower here in his haven.  This Margaret was the great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great granddaughter of the first Margaret of the Haven.  The first Margaret had acted as his best friend and greatest confidant.  She was in charge of all of the others that worked his fields and cared for his animals.  All of the first born daughters of that line were named Margaret and learned the running of the place from their mother.

                “Horrible.  I think I was harsher with her than I was with any of the others.”  He replied.  “She’s in our room now putting away her clothes and weeping.”

                “Do you want me to go and smooth things over with her?” 

                He shook his head.  “No, Margaret.  She needs to learn who I am.  She can’t only see me as a god to be worshipped, but as a man to be loved.  She can’t do that if she remains in awe of me.  She will have to hate me first.”

                She knew it was true and they both knew that Chelsea would need a friend too.  That was also part of what Margaret did.  She helped to guide the new wife and to teach her how to do anything that she didn’t already know how to do.  “Well, I’ll at least go and show her where a few of the important things are.”  He smiled and nodded knowing that she would begin her role as mentor and confidant to the girl.

                His work room had a large table in the center with a perfect replication of his lands.  It was a focus for him to adjust weather patterns, gauge the happiness of his people and even made it easier to communicate with his priests and priestesses.  He had used the focus to keep track of the girls who had been marked for him and to spy on them from time to time as he discovered whether or not they would suit him.  He had used the focus when he took control of Chelsea’s arm to punch her attacker and when he had calmed her mind so that she could find a memory to help her out of the situation.  He had been prepared to do more if she had remained frozen with fear, but was glad he didn’t.  Even the punch wasn’t necessary, but his rage had been great that day.  The boy was lucky he hadn’t killed him, but he also knew that he would have had to use Chelsea’s body to do that and she might not have recovered completely from killing someone and believing that she had done it of her own free will.  He had also warned Darius that Chelsea would be coming to him and had left him the bowl of ice chunks.  This was the only room he truly exerted his powers as a god.  He had found that living with mortals in his haven made them nervous around him if he used them too much around them.  Instead of candles or oil lamps in this room, he used his powers to suspend light emitting crystals around the room.

                He now used this focus instead to watch Margaret with Chelsea.  To be fair, he could do this anywhere in his realm, but using the table, he could pretend he was doing work.  He ate the sandwich Margaret had brought him.  He didn’t actually need to eat or drink, but enjoyed it and he found that the mortals that lived here felt weird around him when they knew he wasn’t eating or drinking anything.  He could also just make the food disappear, or leave it for some hungry traveler, but felt it wouldn’t be right to do that either.

                He watched as Chelsea wiped her eyes and began putting away her clothes.  The first armoire held his clothing, so she quickly shut it and went to the second.  It was completely empty except for hangers.  She hung up the clothing that needed to be hung and folded items that would become misshaped on a hanger.  There was a shelf above the hanger bar, so those items went there.  Next to the armoire was a long dresser with a vanity.  The mirror was perfect and without bubbles or other imperfections.  The top was completely clear of any decoration or baubles or knickknacks that you would expect of someone who had lived for so long.  This dresser was empty so she used it for her undergarments and socks.  There was another dresser next to the armoire that held his clothing and she guessed it contained the rest of his clothing.  The bed was the only other piece of furniture in the room except for a low backless bench one might use to put on socks and shoes.  It was situated at the foot of the bed which was larger than any she had seen before.  It looked like it could sleep three or four people comfortably.  The bed was made and it seemed to hold her attention.  His bed warmer he said.  When would he expect to begin….using…her.

                She was staring at the bed when Margaret found her.  “Hello, Chelsea!”  She chirped, startling the young woman who spun around in surprise.  “My name is Margaret and I kind of head the workers here at Haven.  I’m the one that make sure things are kept stocked up that you might need such as wool, or lye or… well, anything, really.  I’m also the one who can teach you any of the skills you may lack.  Come, come!”  She took Chelsea’s hand and led her to the kitchen.  She had not been paying attention during the tour with Micah, but there was an entire wall dedicated to dry goods and various items she may need such as beeswax, wicks, oil, lamp oil, ingredients to make soap or other cleaners she may find a need for, and any color of dye she could ever want.  All the items were grouped so that if you wanted to make something like laundry soap, all the items were together along with books on how to make it and with any pots or containers that either melted down the product or held the finished products.  She showed her how to operate the oven so that she would get proper temperatures, where the water basin was for the shower as well as the well that was closest to her.  She also showed her a knife block set to an exterior wall.  She explained that when a knife goes dull, she can put it here and it will get sharpened for her.

                She made sure Chelsea ate something, knowing how stunned she would be with the changes and her new duties and then encouraged Chelsea to explore the house which was bigger than anything she had ever seen before.  Margaret had also explained about the necessity and how it would take her soil and water to a sewer so she didn’t have to worry about bedpans or outhouses here.  Chelsea wandered the palatal mansion in shock.  She would open doors without truly seeing what was in them and close them as tears still coursed down her cheeks.  She eventually came to a room that was familiar.  It held crates upon crates of wool along with a small rack of spindles and large spinning wheel in the corner.  She curled up in a corner with her knees pressed to her chest and buried her face into her knees.  She stayed like this until Margaret came to see that she ate some dinner and then returned to this state until Margaret collected her for the evening.  She led her to a bathing chamber to change into her nightgown and then lead her to the bedroom door.

                When she entered the room, Micah was sitting on the edge of the bed faced mostly way from her.  He was naked and she could see the power of the corded muscles of his body.  Every inch of him was covered in muscle and even small movements caused those muscles to play and ripple across his body.

                “Get in the bed, Chelsea.”  He said.  She was terrified.  He listened to her mind as the worst possible thoughts raced through her mind of him r****g her and what she could possibly do.  He bent over and pulled a pair of loose pants from a drawer, placed his feet in the leg holes and brought them up as he stood up.  He could feel her relief that he was at least clothed so much.  His movement seemed to release her from her shock at seeing him naked in that way.  She pulled back the covers on the side of the bed farthest from him and laid facing away from him on the very edge of the bed as if she were afraid to be any closer to him.  She felt him get in next to her after he snapped a finger, extinguishing the candles and oil lanterns.  Her body tensed, but he only settled in and he was soon “asleep”.  He faked sleep to see how she would react.  After a few hours she got out of the bed and left the room.  He could get a sense of where she was by focusing on her.

                She passed the necessity and ended up back in the room with the wool.  He knew that spinning had been her favorite chore and the room would feel a little more like home than anywhere else.  He gave her a couple hours before he followed her to the spinning room.  She gasped when he opened the door.  “Get in the bed, Chelsea.  It’s time you slept.”

                “Please, Micah, I’m not tired.”

                “Please don’t ever lie to me again.  You think I can’t sense how tired you are?”  His voice was harsh so he didn’t give away how much he cared for her.  He strode forward and she tried scrambling back further, but she was already in a corner with nowhere to go.  He crouched down in front of her and poked his finger at her forehead.  With the contact, her eyes rolled up and she fell limp and fast asleep.  He caught her as she fell and carried her back to the bed.  She still had tears in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks so he dampened a cloth and wiped her face clean for her.  He pulled back the covers and laid her down before covering her back up.  He kissed her forehead as he couldn’t when she was conscious and finally laid back down and slept the rest of the night with his new bride.  This was probably the worst first day and night he had ever had with a new wife.  He didn’t understand if it was her reactions that made it worse or if he was being harsher than he had ever been before.  He concluded that it was likely a little bit of both.  Part of the problem, was of course, how much he had come to love her during the choosing.  He couldn’t show her that side of himself yet.

                The next morning when he was getting up, she started awake.  He didn’t say anything about the night before as he left for the shower.  He technically didn’t need to shower as he could keep himself and his clothing clean through his powers as a god, but the water felt good and, again, it helped mortals to feel at ease around him if they thought that he was a little more like them.

                When she heard the water start, she quickly got dressed.  She was surprised at how refreshed she felt.  She had been in one position for most of the day, so should have ached, but she didn’t.  Her feet usually ached a little and didn’t and she was full of energy.  Her face didn’t feel gross like it should after a day and night of weeping.  She wondered if he had cleaned her face after he took her from the wool room.  She was still sad and shocked and depressed about her current situation, but the night’s sleep and the fact that he had not r***d her had done a lot for her state of mind.  She went down to the kitchen and made breakfast for Micah.  She was going to wait to eat by herself as she still felt very uncomfortable around the god she had prayed to every morning.  She found the plates and put the eggs, bacon, and toast on the table for him along with a knife and fork and a glass of water and a napkin.  She was busying herself in the kitchen when he came down to breakfast.

                “Where is your plate?”  He asked her, startling her as he had entered and sat down so quietly.

                “I was going to wait until you were done to make myself something.”  She replied nervously.

                “No.  I would like for you to eat with me for at least breakfast and dinner and sit with me in the evening.”  He gestured over his plate and a clear dome appeared over it.  “This will keep my food warm while you make something for yourself as well.  I will wait.”

                She turned red with embarrassment, so quickly made herself a plate of eggs, but without the bacon or toast.  She brought her plate over and sat down to his right.  The table was a kind where leaves could be added but right now it was at it’s smallest which was square in shape with room for only a single person on each length of the square.

                “Are you sure you don’t want any bacon?”  She nodded and he could see the truth in her mind.  She was still dealing with a lack of appetite, and he knew it would eventually pass.  He removed the stasis dome from his plate and she saw that it still steamed like when she had first put it on his plate.  They ate quietly and when they were both finished, he wiped his mouth, pushed himself away from the table and stood.  “Thank you for breakfast, Chelsea.  It was very good.  I will see you again at lunch time.  You will have to bring me my lunch to my work room.  Margaret will show you which room it is, and it is the only room I wish for you to not go in without me present.”  She nodded her understanding so he left her to whatever she was going to do that day.

                She had not done as he had asked her to do the previous day so she spent part of the morning taking stock of what there were plenty of and what would be needed to be made soon.  The only thing she found she didn’t need to make right away was candles.  Soap could wait a few days, hair cleanser was low, but would also last at least another day, laundry soap would be good for another couple loads, dish soap would also need to be made soon, and there was only enough bread left for a single sandwich.  She decided that tomorrow would be soap day, and today would be a baking day.

                She started the bread, but would have to wait for the dough to rise.  She then checked the cooler and found a cut of beef that would make a perfect roast.  She pulled appropriate vegetables from the pantry, cut them up and put them in the pan along with the meat which she had seasoned before placing it in the oven.  The ease of this oven and stove were amazing to her.  The fact that there were three ovens in the kitchen was astounding to her.  She did find a use for them and wondered how her mother got everything done with what they had.  The thought of her mother and that she would never see her again made tears begin to flow down her cheeks.  She quickly scrubbed them away.  Today she would be the best damn maid and cook he’d ever had, even if she was still very frightened of him.

                While the dough was rising and the roast was cooking, she went up and grabbed her dirty clothing from the day before and his that he had left on the backless bench.  She decided to also strip the bed and clean the sheets and pillow cases while she was at it.  She carried the bundle downstairs to the kitchen and out the back door where the wash basin was.  She had set several pots to boil water several minutes earlier so after setting the clothing in the work area, she poured the hot water into the basin along with a couple bucketful’s of cool water from the well so that she didn’t burn herself.  The clothing went into the water and she grabbed a random clothing item and began scrubbing it.  After ringing it out she set it to dry on the nearby clotheslines.  She pulled one of his items from the soapy water and realized how thin and threadbare her clothing was becoming in comparison to his.

                When all of the clothing was hanging to dry, she dumped out the tub and went back inside to check on the various things she had cooking.  The bread was now ready to put in the oven so she filled an appropriate pan with some of the dough and used the rest to make a few dinner rolls.  The roast would be done just in time to let it rest an appropriate amount of time.  She still had a couple hours and remembered again that she would be responsible for making her own clothing so set up the dye pot so that she could dye some wool for herself.  She hurried upstairs to the room with the wool and brought down a crate of the wool and a set of the combs so that the wool fibers could be dyed and later spun. 

                Once the wool was ready she mused over the dyes.  There was every color you could possibly buy, including the most expensive black, purple, and white dyes.  While wool was considered white, the white dye would make it snowy white like aristocrats wore.  Her hand rested on the blue dye and it made her think of home and how blue dye was a treat.  She took the dye and readied it for the wool.  She could have made the blue as dark as she wanted, but chose to dye the wool sky blue like her mother had to let the dye last longer.  She hadn’t intended to dye the whole crate full of wool, but didn’t feel bad about doing it either.  After setting the wool where it could dry and take the color, she checked on the roast.  The bread was already done and cooling and now the roast was finally done.  She removed it from the oven and let it rest. 

                Noon was approaching so she cut the roast into slices and pulled a plate from the cabinet.  She created a roast beef sandwich and plated some of the potatoes she had cooked with the roast and sliced them neatly and set a bunch of green grapes on the plate.  She had also made a sauce for the sandwich in case he wished to dip it or to add the flavor to the sandwich.  She was getting ready to take up the meal to Micah when Margaret entered the kitchen.

                “It smells lovely!  I’m sure Micah will love it!  I would like to make a suggestion.  The men here make a beer that he likes to have with lunch and dinner.  There are some mugs we keep in the freezing side of the cooler made out of glass that he uses with the beer.  He also drinks a lot of water throughout the day so bring a pitcher of it to refill his water vessel.  He would likely ask you to replenish it when you bring the meal and it will cut down a trip.”  Margaret withdrew the items in question and set them on the tray.  “Micah’s work room is the attic on the third floor.  Have you seen where the stairs are to it?”  Chelsea shook her head.  “It’s three doors down from the room you got the wool from.  It’s a lovely shade but you shouldn’t worry about using too much dye.”

                “It was the shade I wanted.  It reminded me of home.”  She replied.  Chelsea lifted the tray, steadied it and made her way to the stairs leading to the attic.  She was nervous and fearful about seeing Micah again, but so far he, while gruff, seemed nice enough.  The people here seemed to like him from what she had seen of them while doing the laundry.  She climbed the stairs and came to a door at the top.  She found she didn’t have an extra arm to open it. 

                “Micah?”  She called out.  “I can’t open the door.”  As soon as the words left her lips, the door seemed to open of its own accord.  She stepped into the room and found it to be a large airy space instead of a typical cramped space.  There was a large block-like table in the center of the room with a map upon it that looked far more lifelike than a simple flat map.  She could see clouds over areas and what looked like an area that was raining.

                “Hello Chelsea.  Good afternoon.  Are you finding things easily enough?”  She nodded shyly, not sure of what to say or how to say it even if she knew what to say.  “You can set the tray there.”  He gestured to a side table that also had a nearly empty carafe of water with a nearly empty glass of water next to it.  She refilled the carafe from the pitcher and refilled his glass too.  “You can leave the tray and come back in an hour or so to pick it up.”  She nodded and left the room with the water pitcher in hand.

                Once downstairs, she began prepping the evening meal.  She used the beef stock created from the roast to make a beef stew along with chunks of beef.  She began cutting vegetables to add to it and while cutting a potato, sliced her hand.  The knife was so sharp that she didn’t even feel it until the blood started flowing down her hand.  She tossed the potato she had bled on into the compost bucket and quickly cleansed and bandaged her hand and then cleansed the knife.  She finished all the prep work and set the pot to boil.  When she was checking the contents of the cooler and on the left, freezing side, she found a large block of ice.  She began chipping away at the ice and collecting it in a bowl. 

                It had been about an hour so she walked back up to the attic, this time not needing Micah’s help to open the door.  She knocked anyway and only entered when he said she could come in.  She went to the side table and saw that he had again been drinking the water.  She added the ice to the carafe, and poured out some of the excess water into the bowl.  She turned to leave with the tray but Micah stopped her.

                “Thank you for the ice and the meal was very good.”  He then saw her hand.  “What happened to your hand?”  He gestured and the tray in her hands was lifted and placed back on the table, making her jump.  He stepped towards her.

                His presence was still over powering so she froze as he took her hand in his and unwrapped the bindings.  She gasped and her hand trembled in his.  “I’m not used to such sharp knives.”  She finally got out.

                “You should have come to me.  I can heal most minor things like cuts and bruises, but had it become infected with gangrene, I would not be able to do anything for you.  This is deep, so it will take a few moments.”  He held her hand between his, feeling her shake.  He listened in on her thoughts to try to understand why she was shaking at his touch.

                Why should he care if my wound becomes infected?  Worried that his new cook and maid would be unable to do her duties?  Why is he looking at me like that?  My hand isn’t hurting so much anymore.

                Her thoughts cut him.  He knew she would feel ill-used, but he knew he would have to suffer the ill thoughts.  “There, good as new.”  He released her hand and she quickly withdrew it as though it had been bitten.  She turned back for the tray and placed the binding upon it before leaving with it.

                “Thank you.”  She whispered just before closing the door behind herself.  Micah smiled, happy that she had spoken to him.

                When she returned to the kitchen, she began cleaning the items that had been dirtied in either the preparation or serving of food.  She had nibbled on a few slices of beef before taking up the ice so wouldn’t be hungry until dinner.  Margaret had shown her the use of another crystal that would allow her to create storage for items she made so that the air would not cause them to become stale.  She had honey cakes, dinner rolls, muffins, and bread that she wanted to keep fresh so used the crystal to draw a box around each group and then waved the crystal above the items at the height she wanted the containment to stop.  As she used the crystal on each group, clear rectangular containment fields surrounded them much like the containment field Micah had placed over his breakfast while he waited for her to make something for herself to eat.

                She checked on the stew, giving it a stir and then went to the supply wall and pulled out the box of candles.  She took a basket and placed several in it along with a pot of lamp oil.  She went around to all the rooms and replaced candles that were low and filled any oil lamps that were also low.  By then, it was an hour before dinner time so she collected the laundry and the dyed wool.  She set the wool in its crate in the spinning room and quickly remade the bed and put away their clothing.  By the time she was done she had just enough time to hunt for the linen closet to find a table cloth or some placemats for the table.  She was getting annoyed that she couldn’t find anything when she realized that there were no decorations in the house anywhere.  Not a single statuette, wall hanging, picture, or throw blanket on any of the furniture.  There were few rugs and some rooms did have carpet, but nothing that had any personal touches to it.  Even the flatware was something that could be found in any home.

                She was sitting on a stool staring at an earthenware cup when Micah asked, “Is there anything wrong?  If the cup is cracked, it can be replaced.”

                She started at his sudden appearance, but answered, “Why is this place so bare of anything?  It’s like no one’s been living here.”  She looked up at him.

                “So that you could make it your own without the shadows of my previous wives hanging over you, making you wonder which one of them made an item you were using or what memories it might be giving me.  You won’t find anything they made anywhere in the house.  When they died, anything they made was either burned or given away to the people that work the land if it was still useful.”  She nodded slowly in understanding.  It was a nice thing to do, but she realized how much it might have hurt him to do.

                She stood up and ladled the stew into the earthenware bowls and set them on the table.  She quickly added the dinner rolls to the table after dispelling the stasis spell and set a frosted glass mug and a bottle of beer in front of him while she chose to just have a glass of water. 

“Did you want to drink anything besides water?  You could try the beer or I have wine.”  He asked her.

“I’ve never had those things and I don’t want a cloudy head.”

                He nodded in understanding.  They ate quietly and when she saw he was nearing the end of his bowl, quickly got up and set down the plate of honey cakes.

                “Would you like any more of the stew?”  She asked while she was still standing.

                “No, thank you.  It was very good and very filling.  What are those you set down just now?”

                “Honey cakes.”  She offered the plate to him and he took one before setting it back down.  He bit in to it and was surprised at the burst of flavor, never having one before.

                “That’s amazing.  Honey cakes you said?”  She nodded, still shy and overawed by his presence.  It wasn’t something he could control so knew she would have to get used to it.  “I have to admit that I do have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

                When they were both finished, she took the empty plates and set them near a basin of water to be cleaned and took the rest of the dinner rolls and honey cakes and put the stasis field over them.  He was waiting for her when she turned around.

                “I know you expect me to sit with you this evening, but I haven’t had a chance to bathe yet today.  Would you mind if I did that now?”  She twisted her fingers as she spoke, nervous about how he would react.

                “We have several hours to sit together and if it would make you more comfortable to do that while clean, I would not fault you for that.  I intend to read during the down time of the evening, so if you wished to read or spin or a similar thing, I would not be offended by it.”  He replied carefully.  She nodded and turned to the kitchen door, exiting the home.  He was curious about what she was doing outside.  She surprised him when she came back in carrying two buckets of water.

                “Why are you carrying water?”

                “It’s to replace what I use so that the basin is full for you in the morning.”  She replied as she carried them up the stairs to their bathing chamber.

                She really meant it when she decided she was going to be my maid and cook.  I have to admit, she’s taking to that aspect of this living arraignment well.  I just hope she will ease up and take time to do things she enjoys instead of only thinking of what needs to be done.  I have to admit though, she is only doing what I told her she had to do.  I wish I could do that day over, maybe explain things better, not sound so harsh and mean and like I intended to r**e her every night.  I know that’s what she thinks of me now.

                Once she had showered and replenished the basin, she grabbed a lighter weighted spindle and a basket full of the sky blue wool down to the sitting room where she found Micah stretched out on a large leather armchair complete with foot stool.  She set down the wool and spindle and quickly took the buckets outside.  When she came back, she settled in a similar armchair and began working with the spindle.  This room had a large fireplace in it with logs set for a fire.  She had been in this room only briefly to change out the candles and replace any oil in the lamps, so hadn’t noticed the fireplace.  She missed spinning and knitting by the fire back home.  His voice startled her.

                “If you would like a fire, I can lower the temperature in this room so that a fire would feel nice.”

                She shook her head.  “No, it’s ok.  I can wait for it to get cooler around here for that.”

                “The temperature in the Haven doesn’t fluctuate much”

                “No, it’s ok.  Maybe another time.”  She replied.

                He tried a different tact.  “That’s a nice color, but you shouldn’t be concerned with using too much of the dye.  The workers here grow the plants for each of the colors and can always make more.”

                “This was the shade of blue I wanted.  It reminds me of home.”

                “If you want, I can bring in the spinning wheel for you.”

                “That won’t be necessary.  I don’t have the amount of control on the thickness of the yarn with a spinning wheel as I do with the spindle.  I tend to just make big messes with the wheel.”

                “Do you know what you want to make with it yet?”  She shook her head.  She didn’t understand why he was questioning her so much.  Was he just trying to make conversation or something?  He couldn’t possibly be trying to get to know her.  They lapsed into silence and she could occasionally hear him turn a page of his book.  She tuned everything out.  To her, she was just spinning wool back home.  She was snapped out of her thoughts when the spindle became full and she hadn’t brought anything with her to wrap the yarn onto for storage.

                “Here.”  Micah said, holding a thick wooden dowel used for this purpose.

                “Oh.  I can’t believe I forgot to bring one with me.  Thank you.”  She took the dowel and began unloading the spindle.  She didn’t remember him having anything near him like it when she started spinning.  Had he just pulled it out of the air?

                “Any time.”  He replied.  He had seen her looking for an item such as the dowel so had manifested one like he had seen his wives use so many times before on evenings such as this.  He loved the focus her mind had as she spun because it reminded him of a warrior in battle.  It was that feeling of no mind where your instincts take over and you do what comes naturally.  As a god of war, he especially liked the feeling of no mind.  He was not worshipped as a god of war, but it was his specialty.  All gods have specialties and his kept his lands safe from other gods who would want to take over his lands for their own.  His mind for tactics and stratagems had allowed him to outmaneuver and outsmart the gods with territories that shared borders with him.  Over the course of many centuries, he had gained more followers than any of his neighboring gods had and his territory tended to grow instead of shrink.  This gathering of followers was not an ego thing.  It was a necessity.  A god could only die in one of three ways; suicide, death at the hands of another god, or should he lack enough followers, he would begin aging and die.  This was also why the location of Havens was a closely held secret for any god.  If a mortal either stumbled upon the Haven and then left, or a mortal living in a Haven left without returning immediately, another god could transport them to their own Haven and question the mortal for the location of the secret entrance.  This was why he had told her he would have to discipline her should she try to leave his Haven.  No matter how much he loved her, he couldn’t risk her running away from him and falling into the hands of another god.

                Soon enough she began spinning again and again fell into that no mind space.  The ease with which she fell into it surprised Micah as it was something typically only found in warriors who had trained for a long time.  He reveled in the feel of it.  Margaret had warned him that she would be different than any wife he had before and he was beginning to believe her.  She ended up spinning two more spindles worth of yarn that evening and he manifested the dowels for her when she needed them.

                It was time for bed so Micah stood up and gathered the basket of wool and the dowels of spun yarn, and finally gently took the spindle from her hands.  “Oh, is it time for bed already?”  She asked nervously.  Today began her duties, would she begin ‘warming’ his bed tonight?

                “Yes.  I will send these to the wool room for you.”  He gestured and they disappeared, causing her to jump at the simple display of his power.  “Come.”  He waited for her to proceed him.  She nervously walked ahead of him and he waved a hand to cause all the lights to extinguish.  She walked ahead of him all the way to their bedroom, took her nightgown in hand and entered their bathing chamber.  She spent as long as she felt she could there before exiting.  When she left the bathing chamber, with her used clothing in hand, she found him as she had the previous night; turned mostly away from her and naked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

                He looked lost in thought and as he felt her panic rise about him r****g her, he looked over at her, and then leaned over, opened a dresser drawer and pulled on a pair of sleeping pants.  She got into bed as she had before and waited for him to do whatever he intended to do.  He got into the bed, settled in and extinguished the light.  He never reached for her and never would without her consent.  He wondered how long it would be before she stopped panicking simply because it was time for bed.  He waited again to see what would happen.  He pretended to fall asleep.  It took a while, but she eventually fell asleep.

                The next morning, Chelsea woke up as Micah got up for his morning shower.  She quickly got dressed and was amazed anew and how refreshed she felt.  She hurried down to the kitchen and began cooking.  She made eggs, bacon and hash browns for them both.  She set the table and set the plates and the muffins on the table.  She didn’t see Micah yet, so went to start cleaning the plates from the previous night.

                “I think that can wait until after breakfast.  Come sit down.”  She jumped at the sound of his voice.  It was like he just appeared out of nowhere.  She rinsed off her hands and sat down at the table.  He waited for her to take her seat before eating.  “Muffins?”

                “I made them yesterday for this morning.  Just something a little different is all.”

                “Would you pass me the butter?”  He asked.

                “Sure.”  She handed him the dish.  “I haven’t seen the butter churn.   Where is it kept?”

                “One of the workers makes it along with the cheeses.  You’ll see new cheeses and bowls of butter show up from time to time.  If you run out of it, let Margaret know and she’ll bring you more.  Most that gets made is made for the workers.  It’s the same for most of the fruit, vegetables and meat; it stays with the workers.  New meat is put in the freezing side of the cooler and they mark it with the date it was slaughtered.  It is not good to let the meat stay there for longer than six months because the meat will become tough and regardless of spicing, bad tasting.  If there are foods you aren’t fond of, let Margaret know and she’ll ensure that it stays with the workers.”

                “Are there any you don’t like?”

                “I’m not overly fond of lamb.”  Chelsea nodded.  She hated preparing lamb, so it worked out in her favor.  When they finished eating, she gathered the plates.  “Thank you for breakfast.  You’ve surprised me twice in a row now.  First with the honey cakes and now with the muffins.  Thank you.”  A small smile passed across Chelsea’s face at the compliment but she felt like he was just being nice which went against how he had sounded when she had first arrived.  “I will see you again at lunch time.”  She nodded and with that, he wiped his mouth, stood up and left for his workroom.

                Chelsea cleared the table and took the dirty dishes to the wash basin with the rest of the dirty dishes.  She heated the water and then scrubbed them clean.  After that, she grabbed the laundry and worked on it.  By then, the last of the laundry soap was used up so she went to where Margaret had shown her the soap making items were and found the book that had recipes in it.  She was mostly illiterate so matched the symbols with the ones in the book.  She knew her numbers and her mother had shown her the markings on measurement scoops and what they meant, but beyond that, she was unable to read even the simplest of sentences.  She got by, by matching the symbols in the book with the symbols written on the containers. 

                The container revealed a white powder.  The scoop was nearly buried in the powder.  She reached in with her left hand, digging her fingers into the powder.  She had reached in too quickly for her to realize the mistake as her hand began to burn.  She screamed aloud, the sound enough to curdle the blood of anyone who heard.  Micah was by her side in an instant.  He had only one question in his mind – why had she done it?  Why had she dipped her hand in lye?