August 25th: A Newsletter

In the eighth month of Christmas...

• Letter from the Editor

• "Anatomy of a Curmudgeon"

• Recipe for Joy

• “The Twelve Months of Christmas” Chapter Eight

• Christmas Puzzle to Make You Go mmm *BURP*

Anatomy of a Curmudgeon

"The Twelve Months of Christmas"

by Kafryn Swargyn

***

Chapter Eight:  Eight Maids A-Milking

A glimpse of red and white in your periphery meas the guard is back. He leans his peppermint stick against the wall and unlocks the cell door. He nod to you. It's time for your daily walk. Time to set the milkmaid's plan in motion. 

You watch the guard as he moves to undo the shackles on your legs. He's never actually looked you in the face, has he? His loss, you suppose. Today it's an advantage.

As the sunlight hits your face, you begin. "Could we walk a different way today?"

"Huh?"

"There's cows in that barn, right? I'd like to meet some cows. I miss my cows."

He shrugs. Good job. Your part of the plan is successful.

The smell is overpowering the moment you set foot in the barn. The guard coughs violently. He looks like he might cry. But, brave boy, he keeps his moving forward. All his focus is on the door at the other end of the building --- freedom for his poor, put-upon nose. Pity for him the barn is absolutely massive. When you reach the midpoint, you glance at the milkmaid on your left, on the other side of the guard from you. She makes eye contact, and you see her blink twice. In a brownish flash, her cow kicks the guard. He topples and doesn't open his eyes. The milkmaid wrangles her cow into submission, while six other milkmaids rush forward. They all murmuring and exclaim their concern. One pushes forward. She's the one who spoke to you all those weeks ago. She kneels down, checks his pulse, then nods to the others to be calm. "He's okay, just unconscious."

The whole group of you exhale in relief. 

The One Who Spoke to You digs through the guards pockets to find his keys. As she stands up, she mutters to the others, "Shelly, Ida, watch the doors." 

You hold out your hands so she can unshackle you. "Thanks. Um, what's your name?"

"Marguerite. Now follow me." She leads you to the next stall, where there's a burlaps sack covered in hay. "Here. Change into these. Once you're done, we'll stash your old clothes and shackles back in your cell."

A moment later, you emerge, dressed in a milkmaid outfit that somehow feels both too large and too small. You've tried to finger comb your hair, which you realize hasn't been washed in a depressingly long time. The bandana thing they give you should help a bit.

And this is the point in the plan where your knowledge ends. You'll just have to trust that the others have some idea what they're doing. 

Two milkmaids roll the guard onto a stretcher. A third loads your clothes and chains into a sack. They set out, you assume to take the sleeping guard to someone in charge. Maybe to some guards who aren't asleep.

The remaining five, now including you, start to gather milk pails. Some pick them up as many as they can with their arms for the walk to the palace kitchens. You, Marguerite, and Shelly end up pulling a wagon full to the brim with milk pails. You don't enjoy the trek, but at this point you'll take it over a cell. So you shall pull milk and you shall thwart the Caroller. 

You unload the milk without incident. This should be the end of the milkmaids' responsibilities in preparation for the grand feast. Sure, the cows will still need to be milked, but hopefully it will take a while for the nobles to get through the current supply and realize someone's not doing their job. Marguerite speaks to you in a low voice. "We're all leaving together after this. There's a way out beyond the barnyard. There's enough going on, we should go unnoticed for the moment."

Before you can get far from the kitchens, one of the help runs out to you. "Excuse me! Several of our servers have fallen ill. Housekeeper needs you all to fill in for the feast."

To be continued....

A Holiday Puzzle Just for You!

Courtesy of puzzles-to-print.com because no, I could not be bothered.