Chapter 17
Part 1
Kol and General Marcus finished military accounts. Kohl’s head was hurting. The sound of Marcus’s voice felt like a dart through his brain.
Marcus tugged at his belt sighing, “another good days work.” Kol gave him a questioning glance. “No one has been killed today.” Kol nodded in agreement. With his thumbs still inside his belt he reported, “Kessa’s cooking. Let’s eat. As always, it would be an honor if you joined us, sire.”
Kol smiled and pointed toward the door. “Lead the way.” As they were leaving he spoke, “how often does Kessa cook?”
Marcus grinned, “as often as we can get her too, sire.” He laughed.
At the barracks, it looked as if Mecca’s entire army was there. Men, women and children. He watched the row of bodies go through the food line. A smile crawled across his face at the thought, how many times had he done this as a child?
“Are you going to join us?” It was Frego. He was with the Bejhar.
“I might stay, my son.”
Kessa and Jolla were serving. Even over the aroma of food, she still new he was near her. “My king.”
“What are we eating?” He was standing behind her to her right.
“We made stew, my king.”
The line was still long. Hungry mouths to feed. Empty bellies. “What can I do to help?” There were four other cooks in the kitchen; stirring in pots, cleaning, or bringing food over to serve.
“You don’t have to do a thing except eat.” He never said a word but his eyes were twinkling. A cook brought over a steaming pot of stew. Kessa handed him a big round spoon with a long handle. “Two spoons per bowl.” Each person took one bowl and a hunk of bread.
Frego made sure to take his bowl from Kol and winked as he did. This brought a smile to his dad’s face. Rajaf took food from Kessa and spoke to the king as he passed by.
Kessa bumped Kol to get his attention. Frego was sitting with the Bejhar talking to someone Kol didn’t know. The look on his son’s face at times reminded him of the way he felt around Kessa. It made him happy to think Frego was interested in someone.
General Marcus was last. He laughed, “from numbers to meat.”
Everyone in the kitchen started cutting long pans of dark brown bread. “What is this?”
Jolla spoke. “I haven’t given them a name yet, sire.” They all cut the bread into pieces placing them on the window.
Kol noticed that Kessa’s right arm was twitching. After two pans, she wasn’t able to put as much pressure on the knife. He took over her job and she put plates in the window.
He and Kessa were the last two to eat. They went outside. “We are alone?”
“Yes, most of the cooks have friends or family they want to eat with, my king.”
He looked around, “this is nice. This should be done at the palace.”
A small space had been floored with brick, given a roof of beams. Flowers, plants, and vines covered the roof and walls. There was enough room for 10 people to sit.
As he sat in front of her he spoke, “you know I saw your arm twitching.”
“Yes, my king.”
“I also noticed you were not able to put a lot of pressure on the knife.”
She let out a heavy sigh. “It happens when my arm gets tired. I’m afraid it’s going to be a life long side effect from getting shot with the arrow. It will get better. But I don’t think it will ever go away.”
“I know I was there for the hard part of that accident. Do you have a star shaped white scar on your shoulder?”
She raised an eyebrow before pulling up her sleeve, “yes I do.”
“This is really good.”
“I will tell everyone you’re pleased, my king. Thanks.”
“Did you cook this today?”
She blushed, “we did the hard part yesterday. The stew cooked all night.”
He held up the little piece of brown bread, “Jolla is doing well?”
“She is.” Kessa smiled. “Tired?”
He grinned her favorite sideways grin, “yes and I didn’t do any of the hard work.”
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