The King's Kitchen
Back to the cellar Curdie and Lina sped with their booty, where, seated
on the steps, Curdie lighted his bit of candle for a moment. A very
little bit it was now, but they did not waste much of it in examination
of the pie; that they effected by a more summary process. Curdie
thought it the nicest food he had ever tasted, and between them they
soon ate it up. Then Curdie would have thrown the dish along with the
bones into the water, that there might be no traces of them; but he
thought of his mother, and hid it instead; and the very next minute
they wanted it to draw some wine into. He was careful it should be
from the cask of which he had seen the butler drink.
Then they sat down again upon the steps, and waited until the house
should be quiet. For he was there to do something, and if it did not
come to him in the cellar, he must go to meet it in other places.
Therefore, lest he should fall asleep, he set the end of the helve of
his mattock on the ground, and seated himself on the cross part,
leaning against the wall, so that as long as he kept awake he should
rest, but the moment he began to fall asleep he must fall awake
instead. He quite expected some of the servants would visit the cellar
again that night, but whether it was that they were afraid of each
other, or believed more of the butler's story than they had chosen to
allow, not one of them appeared.
When at length he thought he might venture, he shouldered his mattock
and crept up the stair. The lamp was out in the passage, but he could
not miss his way to the servants' hall. Trusting to Lina's quickness
in concealing herself, he took her with him.
When they reached the hall they found it quiet and nearly dark. The
last of the great fire was glowing red, but giving little light.
Curdie stood and warmed himself for a few moments: miner as he was, he
had found the cellar cold to sit in doing nothing; and standing thus he
thought of looking if there were any bits of candle about. There were
many candlesticks on the supper table, but to his disappointment and
indignation their candles seemed to have been all left to burn out, and
some of them, indeed, he found still hot in the neck.
Presently, one after another, he came upon seven men fast asleep, most
of them upon tables, one in a chair, and one on the floor. They seemed,
from their shape and colour, to have eaten and drunk so much that they
might be burned alive without wakening. He grasped the hand of each in
succession, and found two ox hoofs, three pig hoofs, one concerning
which he could not be sure whether it was the hoof of a donkey or a
pony, and one dog's paw. 'A nice set of people to be about a king!'
thought Curdie to himself, and turned again to his candle hunt. He did
at last find two or three little pieces, and stowed them away in his
pockets. They now left the hall by another door, and entered a short
passage, which led them to the huge kitchen, vaulted and black with
smoke. There, too, the fire was still burning, so that he was able to
see a little of the state of things in this quarter also.
The place was dirty and disorderly. In a recess, on a heap of
brushwood, lay a kitchen-maid, with a table cover around her, and a
skillet in her hand: evidently she too had been drinking. In another
corner lay a page, and Curdie noted how like his dress was to his own.
In the cinders before the hearth were huddled three dogs and five cats,
all fast asleep, while the rats were running about the floor. Curdie's
heart ached to think of the lovely child-princess living over such a
sty. The mine was a paradise to a palace with such servants in it.
Leaving the kitchen, he got into the region of the sculleries. There
horrible smells were wandering about, like evil spirits that come forth
with the darkness. He lighted a candle--but only to see ugly sights.
Everywhere was filth and disorder. Mangy turnspit dogs were lying
about, and grey rats were gnawing at refuse in the sinks. It was like
a hideous dream. He felt as if he should never get out of it, and
longed for one glimpse of his mother's poor little kitchen, so clean
and bright and airy. Turning from it at last in miserable disgust, he
almost ran back through the kitchen, re-entered the hall, and crossed
it to another door.
It opened upon a wider passage leading to an arch in a stately
corridor, all its length lighted by lamps in niches. At the end of it
was a large and beautiful hall, with great pillars. There sat three
men in the royal livery, fast asleep, each in a great armchair, with
his feet on a huge footstool. They looked like fools dreaming
themselves kings; and Lina looked as if she longed to throttle them.
At one side of the hall was the grand staircase, and they went up.
Everything that now met Curdie's eyes was rich--not glorious like the
splendours of the mountain cavern, but rich and soft--except where, now
and then, some rough old rib of the ancient fortress came through, hard
and discoloured. Now some dark bare arch of stone, now some rugged and
blackened pillar, now some huge beam, brown with the smoke and dust of
centuries, looked like a thistle in the midst of daisies, or a rock in
a smooth lawn.
They wandered about a good while, again and again finding themselves
where they had been before. Gradually, however, Curdie was gaining
some idea of the place. By and by Lina began to look frightened, and
as they went on Curdie saw that she looked more and more frightened.
Now, by this time he had come to understand that what made her look
frightened was always the fear of frightening, and he therefore
concluded they must be drawing nigh to somebody.
At last, in a gorgeously painted gallery, he saw a curtain of crimson,
and on the curtain a royal crown wrought in silks and stones. He felt
sure this must be the king's chamber, and it was here he was wanted;
or, if it was not the place he was bound for, something would meet him
and turn him aside; for he had come to think that so long as a man
wants to do right he may go where he can: when he can go no farther,
then it is not the way. 'Only,' said his father, in assenting to the
theory, 'he must really want to do right, and not merely fancy he does.
He must want it with his heart and will, and not with his rag of a
tongue.'
So he gently lifted the corner of the curtain, and there behind it was
a half-open door. He entered, and the moment he was in, Lina stretched
herself along the threshold between the curtain and the door.