Chambermaids Alternate Ending

Women like me, chambermaids, cannot get close to a knight, not in a meaningful way. Our purpose is to scrub, wash, and empty pots, nothing more. We are invisible to nobles, as we are trained to be. I had capitulated to that concept long ago.

However, there had been that one time I was not invisible.

I had been tasked with scrubbing the floor in the castle corridor near Sir Leon’s chamber. Down on my knees, I worked fast, scrubbing with vigor until my hands cracked and bled. What if Sir Leon walked by me? What if he spoke to me? I would not know what to say. From a distance, I had admired him for a good long while, but the thought of interacting with him terrified me.

I scrubbed a final stubborn spot of grime from the stone floor; I was almost done when Sir Leon strode down the corridor. As he wandered by, he muttered a polite greeting, and I nodded my head in acknowledgement. He entered his chamber and I breathed a long sigh of relief. Yet moments later, Sir Leon appeared one again, this time, holding a mug.
“Would you care for some water?” he asked, leaning down and handing me the beverage.
“That looks like hard work and you must be parched.”

I remained on my knees and stared at him, unable to answer, unable to think. Somehow, I croaked a barely audible “Thank you.” I accepted the mug and drank, while he spoke of the weather and King Arthur’s new horse. I must have also spoken, but I was so overwhelmed by Sir Leon’s gesture of kindness and by the way his eyes shone a beautiful shade of sky blue that I do not recall a word I said.

Moments after I finished my drink, he was gone, but not from my
heart.

That night, I know it was awful of me to do, but I followed him. He took a spot of the battlement walkway, then rested his forehead against the stone parapet and gazed out the crenel at the moonlit forest in the distance. He was a beautiful man, tall and powerful, with broad shoulders, and a mop of curly light-brown I longed to touch. I wanted to run my fingers through those soft locks, kiss him, and allow his whiskers to tickle my face. I wondered what he smelled like – probably an intoxicating blend of pine and wood smoke.

Meanwhile, I had hidden in the castle archway, just behind a wall. I peeked over the top of the stone barrier and watched. I had thought ahead and brought a broom along with me, which I clutched to my chest. Just in case Sir Leon caught me spying on him, I could always say: “Oh! Forgive me, sir. I was here to sweep the walkway.”

Though Sir Leon remained cloaked in shadow, I saw he appeared forlorn. I wanted to hold him, to soothe his worries and ease his inner turmoil.

“It's too much,” he muttered, and I jumped. This was the first time I had heard him speak to himself. “It is all too damn much.”

What, I wondered, was too much? As First Knight of Camelot, there were so many burdens for Sir Leon to bear. He had seen too much, lived through too much, given up too much for king and kingdom. Thus, I wanted to approach and tell him, “Let me love you, Sir Leon,” and admit that he had captured my heart.

Nonsense. That would be inappropriate. However, I did not need to confess my love for him; I could simply talk to Sir Leon and express my admiration for him. I straightened and leaned my broom handle against the wall. What was the harm in being kind to a man who was hurting? There was no law against that. But before I had the chance, my broom clattered to the ground, shattering the evening silence. Sir Leon spun around, and shouted, “Who's there?”

Hearing his voice made me lose my nerve; it flooded out of me in a rapid rush and I was left with nothing but panic. I could not approach Sir Leon. It was not proper, not the way things were done. Women, especially chambermaids, did not approach knights. We kept our heads down and our eyes averted. That was the way of things. Who was I to think I could change that?

I rushed away, leaving my broom behind, biting my lip so I did not cry. We would both live with the agony that we would never have the things we wanted, for him, peace, and for me, love.

We could never be.