The Counter-Clockwise Staircase and a Peculiar Banquet

Olomouc Castle housed two banquet halls.The largest was situated on the same floor as the main entrance, while the smaller one occupied the second floor above the entrance.Her private chambers were located on the third floor.A spiral staircase connected the second and third floors.Unlike the limestone of the main building’s exterior, this staircase was crafted from precisely cut marble slabs.The spiral staircase was designed to ascend counter-clockwise.Upon her initial entry into the castle, Noren had not pondered why it was counter-clockwise, rather than clockwise or a straight flight.However, after traversing the spiral staircase a second time and mentally simulating a siege of the castle, she finally grasped the profound significance of its design.Given that most people are right-handed, an enemy scaling a counter-clockwise spiral staircase would find their right-sided attacks obstructed by the central newel.Conversely, defenders positioned at the top of the staircase, facing downwards, would suffer no such impediment.This architectural feature conferred a distinct tactical advantage, often allowing a single defender to hold off a multitude, potentially enabling the garrison to endure a siege for a significantly longer duration.Noren reined in her wandering thoughts.In a blink, she found herself before a grand door.The young maid respectfully opened the banquet hall’s entrance.”My lady, please enter!”Beyond the threshold, the light was dim, with an orange glow suffusing the space, lending it a quietude that belied a lively dinner party.Noren’s guard immediately rose.She did not plunge in recklessly, but instead peered cautiously into the hall from the doorway.Then, she turned to look at Tolke, who stood behind her.As their eyes met, Tolke instantly understood her unspoken query.He closed his eyes, listening intently, before opening them moments later.”There are very few people, perhaps eleven or twelve,” he reported.Reassured by his words, Noren straightened her posture and strode confidently into the banquet hall.

****

Within the banquet hall, four dining tables were arranged.One table remained empty, while another seated her old acquaintance, Igor, alongside several clergymen.A third table was occupied by the household knight who had escorted them into the castle.The final table hosted a group of unfamiliar nobles.”My lady, please follow me.”Upon entering the hall, a footman guided Noren to the empty table, where she took a seat.’Ah, so this table was prepared for me,’ she mused.The banquet hall was spacious, and the four long tables, positioned at the cardinal points, did not feel crowded.Noren was uncertain whether this arrangement adhered to some specific dining etiquette or if it was merely haphazard.Her table faced the main entrance, a position that, by the customs of her homeland, China, would signify the seat of honor.However, the “barbarians” of Europa present here would hardly conceive of it as such.Noren surmised that their hierarchy might be determined by the height of the tables.For instance, that household knight—what was his name again?Sir Kovan, wasn’t it?His long dining table was noticeably elevated compared to the other three, and the backrest of his chair was considerably more imposing.Behold, Sir Kovan was about to speak!”Cough!”Sir Kovan cleared his throat, the sound echoing off the stone walls and deepening the hall’s quietude.His cough drew all eyes to him.”It has been a month since Count Otta departed from Olomouc, and many knights followed him, leaving only us, the most loyal and trusted knights of our lord,” Sir Kovan declared, rising to his feet and raising his goblet.He surveyed those present.”Our lord entrusted us with many duties: defending the castle, patrolling the domain… but paramount among them is to host visiting nobles on Count Otta’s behalf.”With these words, Sir Kovan raised his goblet first towards Noren, then towards Igor.”Let us welcome Miss Noren and Young Master Igor!”Having spoken, Sir Kovan tilted his head back and drained his drink in one gulp.The others, emulating Sir Kovan, also raised their goblets, exchanged glances, drank, and then resumed their seats.Once Sir Kovan concluded his opening remarks, a buzz of activity filled the hall.Several noblemen left their seats to converse with others.Simultaneously, seven or eight servants entered the banquet hall in a line, each balancing a large platter laden with various foods in one hand.”What is this for?” Noren wondered aloud.Sir Kovan merely snapped his fingers in her direction, and the servants immediately lined up before her table.”They probably want you to choose one,” Tolke whispered, leaning down from behind Noren.Noren lowered her gaze to the table.White bread, wine, cheese — indeed, a hearty main course was missing.With a casual gesture, she pointed to a large platter piled high with pork chops and sausages.After placing the platter down, the servant turned and left, while the remaining servants bearing dishes proceeded to the other nobles, allowing them to select from the remaining offerings.Noren rinsed her hands with wine, then used a piece of white bread as a napkin to dry her fingers.This was not an act of extravagant waste, but a necessity, as no washing water was provided at the table.One might wonder why she would use red wine to wash her hands, or if drinking water was truly absent from medieval dining tables.Regrettably, it was.In the Middle Ages, drinking water was often considered a form of punishment.Even the lowliest peasants, when faced with a choice between water and poor-quality wine, would invariably choose the latter.Even if the wine’s quality was dubious, perhaps a gallon of wine diluted with ten gallons of water, their answer would still be: “Drink the wine!”This was not due to a medieval European obsession with alcohol, nor was it a spontaneous act of veneration by Christians who believed wine was created by Jesus.Fundamentally, it stemmed from the state of medieval water sources.They were simply too filthy!Due to a profound lack of proper hygiene practices, medieval populations frequently engaged in upstream defecation while drawing water downstream for consumption.Furthermore, secular lords strictly forbade their serfs from cutting down trees, permitting them only to gather a few branches to cook gruel, making boiling water for drinking an impossibility.Adding to this, the Christian Church misled people into eating with their hands, proclaiming that “all human food is a gift from God, and only by eating with one’s hands does one truly demonstrate humility.”Consequently, a significant number of nobles succumbed to dysentery each year.Medieval Christianity truly had cholera to thank for its late arrival by several centuries; otherwise, the combination of cholera and the Black Death would surely have wiped out the entire European populace.Thus, hygiene in the Middle Ages was truly abysmal.Noren’s first step after gaining authority from her blacksmith father was to overhaul the village’s sanitation.Yet, despite her most vigorous efforts, this only resulted in a clean river and pristine village roads; the villagers’ clustered thatched huts remained remarkably squalid.As these thoughts consumed her, Noren couldn’t help but sigh.She felt that she had a long, arduous journey ahead of her in the Middle Ages.”Noren, what’s wrong?” Tolke asked with concern, puzzled by her sigh.”Nothing at all, just a passing thought!”She waved her hand dismissively, attributing her momentary melancholy to a few drinks, a touch of tipsiness leading to idle musings, or perhaps the inherent sentimentality of her female form.”Come, wash your hands, you’ll eat with me too.”Noren gestured to the servant holding the wine pitcher, indicating that Tolke should have his hands washed.”My lady, attendants are not permitted to dine with their masters,” the wine servant stated, remaining still and questioning the propriety of her request.”Hmph,” Noren chuckled, a dry, mirthless sound.Her amusement fading, she fixed him with a stern gaze, her authority radiating without a single raised voice.”A servant questioning a guest—is this how Count Otta extends his hospitality?”The wine servant’s face instantly blanched, and his hand slipped, causing the wine pitcher to shatter into pieces with a loud crash.Everyone in the banquet hall was drawn by the sound of the breaking pitcher, including a pale-faced maid who was secretly adding powder to a goblet of wine; she hadn’t even noticed she had chosen the wrong one.”Guards, throw this wretched fellow into the dungeon!”Sir Kovan’s anger, fueled by alcohol, ignited instantly.He was so incensed he wished to flay the insolent servant alive with a whip on the spot.”My lord, my lord, mercy, my lord!”The wine servant collapsed onto the floor, his breeches immediately soaked with a large wet stain.Even after two guards dragged him out, a pungent odor of urine lingered in the banquet hall.”Just a minor, insignificant interlude, haha, please continue!”Sir Kovan laughed, raising both hands to signal for everyone to resume their feasting and merriment.The nobles averted their gazes, once again engaging in animated conversation, and in moments, the banquet hall was filled anew with a cacophony of voices.Sir Kovan, holding a stemmed silver goblet, approached Noren’s table.He raised his glass, his face etched with an apologetic expression.”My lady, I am truly sorry if you were made to feel uncomfortable.”She merely offered a small smile, tugging at the corners of her lips, and said nothing.Sir Kovan then beckoned a pale-faced maid.”This is my daughter, Triss; allow her to attend to you,” he announced.The maid, Triss, cradling a single-handled silver wine jug, one hand supporting its base and the other gripping its ear, bowed deeply with downcast eyes.”It is an honor to serve you, beautiful princess,” she said.Noren gently corrected her.”I am no princess; I am merely the daughter of an ordinary knight.”Sir Kovan chuckled, not believing a single word she uttered.”That previous pitcher of wine may not have suited your taste, but this one is a fine Provence vintage I acquired last year from a Lombard merchant.Such a wine is uncommon even in the various duchies of the northern Empire, and in the northern kingdoms like Denmark, it fetches an astronomical price.I am certain you will find it to your liking!”With that, Sir Kovan executed what appeared to be a perfectly standard knight’s bow before turning to rejoin the conversation with the other nobles.Noren gently touched her cheek, murmuring almost to herself, ‘This face, so prone to misunderstanding.’She sighed inwardly.’My body, skin, and hair are gifts from my parents.To be reborn into this world is already a blessing from the heavens; it’s a miracle I didn’t become a pig, horse, cow, or sheep.So, becoming a woman… let it be.’In a mere instant, her worries were cast aside, and her mind returned to tranquility.Noren pointed to Tolke, addressing the maid.”Wash his hands with wine.”The maid’s downcast eyelids snapped up, her eyes wide with disbelief, yet she knew it was best not to second-guess the actions of nobility, especially when the person before her was perceived as a princess.”As you command,” the maid replied, and proceeded to obey.Noren tore off a piece of white bread and handed it to Tolke, whose hands were now clean.She then used a small knife to scrape some cheese onto a side plate, before using the same knife to transfer several sausages and a few slices of meat from the large platter onto the plate.”Here, this should be enough,” Noren said, presenting the plate of meat to Tolke.”There’s only one dining knife, and you’ve already washed your hands, so just eat with your fingers.””Princess, please taste.”The maid poured a full glass of wine and pushed the silver goblet towards Noren.Noren, too weary to correct her again, gazed at the swirling surface of the wine in the cup.This Provence vintage was a deep purple, exuding a rich, fragrant aroma.Just as she brought the exquisite wine to her lips, moments before it touched her pink mouth, a voice intervened.___________”Wait.”Tolke gripped her wrist, halting Noren’s motion to drink.Noren’s brows furrowed slightly, her left brow arching.”What is it? Is the wine poisoned?”The pale-faced maid nearby, already dumbfounded by Tolke’s audacious act of grasping the ‘princess’s’ wrist, shuddered visibly upon hearing the word “poison.””It seems… there’s a strange scent,” Tolke muttered, taking the goblet from her hand.He brought it closer, his nose twitching slightly.After taking a few deep breaths, the pale-faced maid recovered her composure.”Th-that might be the unique spices of Provence, or perhaps the aroma of fragrant flowers,” she stammered.Noren cast a glance at the maid, who was forcing a smile, clearly unsettled by Tolke’s bold actions.Noren retrieved the silver goblet from Tolke’s hand.”If there were poison, it would have been in the previous pitcher of wine.This wine likely just contains some special spices.”Her intuition had not sounded any alarm, and given that Sir Kovan was meeting her for the first time, there was no plausible motive for poisoning.Besides, these feudal lords were merely fond of enslaving people, not homicidal maniacs; there was no reason whatsoever to harm her.Noren swirled the red wine in the cup, then tilted her head back and downed it in a single gulp.The wine’s rich aroma was potent, and as it flowed into her stomach, a wave of warmth surged through her torso.However, with a physique comparable to Hercules, the sensation of heat dissipated instantly.”Excellent wine!” Noren exclaimed.Though she wasn’t fond of drinking, she could still discern the quality of a vintage.”You should try some too.”Noren instructed the maid to refill a glass, then handed the goblet to Tolke.”Not bad,” Tolke commented, taking a sip from the rim untouched by Noren’s lips.He felt the wine burn as it coursed down his throat, a lingering spark settling in his lower abdomen.Seeing this exchange, the pale-faced maid immediately lowered her head, wishing she could bury it in her chest.’Their master-servant relationship is far too intimate; they’re even sharing a single cup of wine!’ the maid cried out in her heart.”Are you truly Sir Kovan’s daughter?”Hearing Noren’s question, the maid looked up, her face etched with surprise.”Yes, but…” the maid began, her voice trailing off.Lowering her tone, she finished, “I am his illegitimate daughter.”Typically, nobles would either keep matters of illegitimate children a closely guarded secret or, at the very least, refrain from publicizing them, as such revelations could tarnish their family’s reputation.Noren’s curiosity was piqued.”Why does your father… um… not conceal the matter of his illegitimate children?”The pale-faced maid lowered her gaze, her voice calm.”My father’s wife passed away many years ago, and my mother is a blacksmith’s daughter.Though not a noble, she still commands a certain degree of respect, and thus, my father acknowledges my status as his illegitimate daughter.””Is that so? A blacksmith’s daughter,” Noren mused, spearing three sausages with her small knife and biting off half of them.”Chew… chew… Sir Kovan… gulp… he seems different from other knights.””My father serves as the Military Governor and Master of the Stables, appointed by Count ‘The Handsome.’He owns three manors, two thousand acres of farmland, an apple orchard, and dozens of plough horses and cattle, making him the wealthiest knight in Olomouc.””Who is wealthier, compared to the Osbrück family?”The pale-faced maid glanced back at Igor, who was surrounded by clergymen and nobles, then shook her head.”I do not know.”Noren then inquired, “Why are none of those nobles willing to approach and speak with me?”The pale-faced maid chose her words carefully.”Perhaps the lords lack experience in conversing with noble ladies in such settings.”‘What did she mean by that?’Noren was bewildered for a second, but then comprehension dawned.The maid was implying that women were not permitted at the dining tables in such gatherings, and therefore, noble lords would not encounter noblewomen or noble wives in these circumstances.So, what about her own situation?Could it possibly be linked to her status, title, or actual power?’Forget it, who cares!’ she thought.