Walking the Ruins

Lye, and a washing long overdue

A knock tears me from the realm where reality borders on dreamscape.

Before I can answer, the door to my room opens, its ancient hinges complaining loudly. Rose enters, holding a bowl in her hands. "How are you?" She smiles.

"Better." The right half of my face feels stiff and itchy when I am talking.

"I've brought you something to eat." She sits down on the edge of my bed. If you want to call it a bed—it is basically a pallet of twigs and dried leaves. Smelly, but surprisingly comfortable.

She dips a spoon into the bowl and holds it up to my mouth. "Here you go!"

That's how my mother talked when I was a kid. It makes me laugh. I try to sit up, and I'm surprised that I can do it as long as I don't put too much weight on my right arm. Taking the spoon from Rose's hand, I start eating. Whatever it is, it's warm and tasty.

After having satisfied the worst of my hunger, I am able to formulate a question. "How do things look like? Outside, I mean."

"Oh, this is quite a good place," Rose answers. "There are apple trees and ripe grapes close by. We also have pears, even though most of them are past their selling date. Yesterday, Steve brought back some kiwi from his foraging. And there are lots of rabbits. We've caught fish from the lake. And not far from here, I found potatoes and carrots." Rose clearly enjoys the topic, and she gestures proudly towards the bowl in front of me.

I have been so busy gobbling my food that I did not really have time to note what it is. It looks like a kind of broth, with various items floating in its depths, such as carrots and potatoes. In my earlier life, I hated cooked the former and barely tolerated the latter. But now, centuries later and here in this soup, they're the culmination of culinary excellence.

Without any further words, I return my full concentration to the dish and don't stop before I have finished it all.

Then I feel so much better.

"Can you help me up?" I ask Rose.

She smiles, takes the empty bowl from my hands and helps me getting out of bed. I feel weak on my legs, and my knees are shaking, but I am able to reach the door with Rose's help. We enter a large room with a fireplace, where Kevin is busy with a large cauldron. A ghastly smell lies in the air.

"Have you finished concocting your magic potion?" Rose asks, sarcastically. "It smells like something that has been dead for way too long."

"This is no magic potion, oh my Princess," he answers, in style, without taking his eyes from whatever is bubbling in his cauldron. "This is lye. It will help your majesty laving her most exalted body and garments. Both are in dire need of washing, you know."

"Thanks for the compliment, your nerdship," Rose answers.

I laugh. Obviously startled by the sound, Kevin turns. "Hey, Leona. You're out of bed! How do you feel?"

"I feel like an 80-year-old spinster." And that is an understatement, I add, in my thoughts.

Kevin approaches us, but then stops and makes a face. "Ugh. Another customer for my lye," he says grinning and charmingly. He returns to the fireplace and gets a metal container standing beside it. "This is my first batch." He holds it under my nose. I see a whitish liquid sloshing in a menacing manner, giving off a smell that has nothing to do with the fragrance of the soap that I am used to. That I was used to.

"Give it a try, both of you!" he says.

I eye the stuff without trusting it. "How do you know to make lye?"

"Did you sleep through our chemistry lessons?" he asks. "You boil ashes, really long. I've also added some fat, that's supposed to turn it into soap, but it didn't quite work." He shrugs.

I'm tempted to ask what kind of fat he used. But it's probably better not to know about that particular detail.

Washing feels like a good idea, though. I look at Rose. "Where's the ... washroom?" I wonder if they have one.

"It's outside, for the time being. There's a little stream." She looks at Kevin. "Our good Merlin here has not yet been able to re-establish the water supply to our palace. Come with me, I'll show you the way."

Rose heads for the door while Kevin turns back to the fireplace. A towel hangs from a hook on the doorframe. Rose grabs it.

In front of the house, there is a wild and overgrown garden. The sun is shining, and it is pleasantly warm, but the trees have turned gold and brown. Fallen leaves cover the ground. Autumn seems to have established its hold for good. My naked feet feel strangely good on the cool ground.

Rose leads me down to a small brook beside the garden. I undress and examine my shoulder. Two reddish scars extend from my upper arm almost up to the collarbone.

Carefully, I touch my cheek. Another scar.

I think of the bear. Bloody creature!

The water is terribly cold, but washing feels good. Kevin's lye helps, but it takes more of the cold water to get rid of its smell. When I'm done, my hands and feet are tingling, and my blood is pumping.

"You should also wash your pajamas, I think," says Rose, handing me the lye container. "I will get you some other clothes from your pack."

Later, Rose gives me a tour of the premises. Our home is a simple building, made mostly of stone, with a wooden roof. The wood is blackened from the centuries. "The roof is tight," she says. "Most of the window frames are rotten, and the windows are gone. We keep the shutters closed when it gets cold."

A bench stands on the south wall of the house. It looks inviting. "Can we sit?" I ask. Rose nods, and we sit down. What a relief, it seems that I am not yet back to my full strength.

The lake is close, no more than fifty or a hundred steps down a gentle slope from us. The waves are glittering in the sunshine.

"Where's Steve, and Jenny?" I ask.

"They're out. Hunting and gathering. They do most of that. They've become quite good at it. They usually return before the sun sets."

I don't like the they in this sentence. But the warmth of the autumn sun untangles my muscles and my anguish. I close my eyes and relax.

I dream of a bear, and the dream feels like a tale of things to come.