The Daring Lamb

Walking over by the window pane, the sun is seen rising from its bed; its mellow gleam spreading over the vast expanse that lies beyond the small village. Spreading further still, the early sunlight reveals the overgrown paddocks, bright meadows of flowers emitting shades of violet and maize. Beyond the paddocks are rows of trees encasing a dried creek and hiding a prospering wheat field, tall and golden. Glancing to the left, a vineyard lies as its grapes drape from their beams. “Emelia?!” a hoarse voice beckons from the room yonder. “Emelia come here at once!”. Breaking from her daze, Emelia makes her way from the timber floorboards of the kitchen to the fine taupe carpet of the dining room, adjusting her filthy apron with each pace.

Slowly approaching the foot of the finely engraved table Emelia says politely, “Yes Sir, you called?”. The man seated at the head of the table does not respond but instead sits in silence observing the maid; her frizzed unruly rosewood hair bound from her forehead by a piece of yellow cloth. Her saddened eyes held by the puffy pillows beneath them; her nose flat and wide with thin crimson lips. Strewn from her slender shoulders is a blood red dress; its hemming torn as it drapes beyond the girls’ ankles whilst hiding the ripped neckline of the smock is an old white blouse. Observing her new master, Emelia observes the man; his hair, though long is combed behind his ears, although short mounds of the auburn mat has escaped and sits curled in many directions. His furrowed brow displays the otherwise hidden wrinkles that rest upon his forehead. The man’s nose is seemingly out of proportion with his face as it appears to be the length of his index finger. It is of such size that it astounds the maid that she is able to see past it in order to observe the liquid smeared across his wide chin; most probably from breakfast.

Licking his chin, the figure clears his throat and says, “Today I shall be out with the flock. As for you …. You are to stay here with Lucy and prepare for some guests I am expecting this week. I want beds made, the pantry stocked and my bedroom pristine. I that clear?”. Shifting from left to right Emelia clenches her fists and responds, “Yes master, I will be sure to do so” she swallows and sighs flashing a half-hearted smile. “Very well. See to it that Lucy is aware of what is to be expected”. “Uh..?” rolling her eyes the maid interjects “Emelia” pausing he raises his eyebrow murmuring slyly “Emelia, you can leave now” as he gestures towards the door with his hand. Turning on her heel, Emelia trots into the kitchen until she reaches the sink where the older Italian maid Lucy is stationed, scrubbing the dirt from a mound of potatoes.

Propping herself atop the kitchen bench Emelia swings her feet back and forth. “Good morning Lucy. Sorry to bombard you with tasks however we have duties to our master in which we must fulfil” says Emelia