Storytelling Week 12: The Cook

The Cook

She had been the Inn’s cook since she was twelve, but she only was in the position because the Innkeeper burned his hands and could not find a replacement.

She was praised for being a good cook for the past five years now. Many rich people offered to buy her, but the innkeeper knew what he had and did not sell her.

Until one day a rich young man demanded to see her after his first bite of her stew.

She saw he was very rich indeed, when she walked out into the parlor to bow low and saw the rich, light wool covering his shoulders and the fine leather boots on his feet. However, the crown on his red, curly hair was evidence enough he was the King.

Her thoughts went rampant with worry – perhaps he did not like the stew. Her thoughts went from floggings to execution in a matter of moments. 

However, when the young King realized the cook was the girl in front of him, he beamed at her - his teeth big and white.

She was startled at the show of expression, and in her fit of nerves bowed even lower which caused the young King to raise his hand to halt her lowering.

The young King admitted he was surprised such a young girl was able to produce such savory flavors in a stew.

She told him she picked herbs from the forest and mixed them together to create the flavor.

He praised her for her cooking and in the same statement offered employment at his castle as his personal cook.

He also said she would be paid handsomely.

Well, she could not say no to the King.

*

Her King had become her friend rather quickly, although in private since the hierarchy of the court was not to be disturbed - not even by her King. 

She would slip him sweet treats, try new recipes and take notice of wines she would stumble upon at the market for him to later request at her private recommendation.

When it was announced her King was to be engaged to a younger woman within a fortnight, the Cook had a sinking feeling in her belly. A feeling of worthlessness and hollowness, but she brushed it away for her King’s well-being. 

They gossiped together before he married his wife, celebrated when his firstborn was a son, but the merry day turned into one of sorrow when his wife departed this world. 

She grieved for him. She grieved for his son. She comforted him with sweets and her companionship when he allowed himself to be comforted.

His demeanor had changed in the short time. He was not the young, carefree King he once was, but a solemn and quiet man.

Months later, they were in his chambers enjoying the warmth of the fire. They relinquished their titles of King and Cook while he read aloud and she cuddled his son, and, suddenly, he told her of his upcoming second marriage.

The same feeling from before his first marriage returned; a hollowness in her stomach and sharp prickling behind her eyes - though much stronger than the first time.

She held onto his son tighter and looked at the reddish wisps of hair on his soft head, and his sleepy blue eyes blinked lazily at her. She did not want to look at her King and let him see how sad and worried she was at his announcement.

She nodded and softly murmured, “A mother figure would be good for the Prince.”

The queen arrived in the castle and a darkness surrounded her. The cook was wary of this woman with black hair and pale eyes that watched all the on goings of the castle.

She mentioned the dark aura to her King; he waved her off telling her she was a jealous, suspicious spinster.

His words hurt and she saw the moment he realized how hurtful his words were to her. However, when he apologized for his harsh words, she simply bowed low, accepted the apology and walked away.

She no longer confessed her opinions to him after their discussion or anything for that matter.

When the Queen birthed a son, the Cook feared for the firstborn Prince.

The day came when the Queen found her alone with the ovens warming in the kitchen. The Queen grabbed her from behind and shoved her against the ovens while a vial was pushed under her nose.

The smell of carrots entered her nostrils – hemlock.  

The Queen’s pale eyes were wide and malicious as she demanded this be put in the firstborn Prince’s meal. The Queen’s raspy voice made the hairs stand on her flesh because she knew what hemlock would do to the young Prince’s body.

The Queen warned the Cook that if she were to tell anyone of the plan to murder the Prince, it would cost the Cook her life. She waited pressed up against the stove; the wood burning inside made the heat of the brick oven unbearable and made her skin burn. She waited until the dark woman disappeared with her fine wool dress.

She ran to the King.

She told him what the queen had planned. He did not believe her at first until she revealed to him the vial of hemlock given to her by the Queen.

The King’s face was in an array of emotion: shock, bewilderment, guilt, anger and then pure rage. He screamed at his guards to throw the Queen in the dungeons and to bring his firstborn to him. He did not shed tears, but his eyes were watery when he clutched his son to his body in a protective gesture.

He grasped her hand, his thumb caressing her knuckles, and thanked her for saving his son. Their companionship was restored to what it once was and she sat next to him at the dinner table – the social hierarchy be damned. 

(Poison Hemlock from Wikimedia Commons.)

Author's Note: This story was based on the beginning paragraphs of The Ridere of Riddles from the Celtic fairy tales. The main story is basically the same as the beginning I wrote in my story. The King marries a Queen, who then dies in childbirth, and then marries a second Queen, who gives birth to another son. This second Queen realizes her son will not rule the kingdom since he is the second son, so she devises a plan to poison the firstborn prince through the food the cook prepared him. The second born Prince overhears his mother's plan to poison his half-brother and tells his brother not to eat the food. What I did not understand from the story was why the Cook did not tell the King the queen was trying to murder his first son. Since my portfolio is based on strong women, I decided to play with the gender of the Cook. I also created a friendship between them and hinting at an unrequited love (or is it?), so the King would trust the Cook when she told him of the Queen's treachery. I also decided not to really include the second son and keep it between the King, the Queen and the Cook as well as keep the Princes as babies instead of fully grown adults.

More Celtic Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs (1895).