Chapter Eight

First Lesson

Together, the unusual pair wandered the grounds, and Vladislav showed Beatrice his home, which was now hers also. and Beatrice slowly began to familiarise herself with this new place.

Beatrice saw the large ox that had pulled their carriage when Beatrice was first bought. It was lounging around in a meadow now, chewing grass, and looking incredibly content.

‘I’m almost jealous’ Beatrice said, as she stared at the bulky creature, its low-slung head hovering over the lush grass as it chose the next spot where the eat from. ‘No worries in the world…just rest and fresh grass.’ Beatrice leant forwards against the simple fence, craning her head to get a better look at him. ‘Don’t you think he’s lonely?’ she asked.

‘Not at all’ Vladislav replied. ‘His kind are mostly solitary, no that is not true’ he quickly corrected himself. ‘The females and young stay in groups. The males choose to live alone. They spend most of their lives this way, until of course its time to breed. Their horns grow larger during this time, and turn a vivid red.’ He paused. ‘It’s truly beautiful. Unfortunately, during this time, they also become much more aggressive. Connecting him to the carriage during those times is absolutely out of the question. Lucky these times last only a few weeks, and most of the time he is a calm sweetheart. He loves carrots’ Vladislav added as an afterthought.

They continued to traverse the grounds. Beatrice saw more gardens, vegetable patches, orchards separated in little clusters, meadows, areas that were kept separate for animals, like the geese. There seemed to be no pattern, no rhyme or reason to the property.

Beatrice sort of liked it this way, and found not only the grounds truly fascinating, but the interior of the home also. Everywhere, both inside the walls of the home, and outside, there were ‘pieces’ from all around the world. From items, to food, to living animals, like the chow named Jack.

They wandered the grounds for a long while, and all that walking was very tyring for Beatrice. She was grateful when they finally returned to the cottage once more.

‘You must be hungry’ Vladislav said to her.

‘Yes, I am’ Beatrice said.

‘Well…I have plenty of food in the kitchen.’

Beatrice sat down at the kitchen table; in the same seat she had occupied before.

‘Remind me again’ Vladislav said, ‘you don’t have any food allergies, do you?’

‘Not that I know of.’

‘Wonderful!’

In no time at all, Vladislav had prepared for her a small snack of plain pancakes.

‘Next time’ Vladislav told her, placing the little plate before her, ‘I will add some honey. But not this time. I want your stomach to adjust.’ He paused. ‘I’m excited to cook for you’ he said. ‘There’s so much you have to look forward to, and I can’t wait to share them with you.’

‘Share with me?’

‘Your first meals’ Vladislav declared. ‘For example,’ he began, circling around her, ‘I can cook a variety of different foods. Ham with brown-sugar and pineapple, cranberry-orange roast duck, mushroom-stuffed steak rolls, crab cakes, salmon. Or perhaps something vegetarian. I can make a pear with walnut and blue cheese tart, butternut squash and cherry tomato crumble, mushrooms, peppers, all sorts of soups and stews, deserts too.’

‘I’ve never had any of those things’ Beatrice uttered. ‘I’ve never even heard of those things.’

He hesitated. ‘What sort of food are you used to?’

‘Well for the morning I would…um…’

‘Don’t worry’ Vladislav said, placing a gentle hand upon her shoulder, ‘I’m not going to ask about your past or your family. I just want to know what you’ve eaten before.’

The action of placing his hand upon her shoulder was meant to comfort her. But Beatrice felt a little uneasy at the skeletal touch.

‘I’m sorry’ Vladislav said, realising her discomfort. ‘I should not have done that.’

He walked around the table and took a seat opposite her, steepling his hands on the table before him.

‘Please’ he encouraged, reaching forwards to gently push the fork on the table closer to her, before steepling his fingers again. ‘Just tell me what food you typically ate before you came here.’

Beatrice pursed her lips.

She was silent for a moment, before conceding.

‘In the morning I would have porridge, and the meals in the daytime would be…vegetable stews, cheese, bread.’ She paused. ‘That was it really. Sometimes we had wine or beer.’

‘No meat?’ Vladislav asked. ‘Did you not have any animals?’

‘We did, but we typically sold them at the market instead of eating them ourselves. Meat is expensive. We’d only slaughter them if it was a special occasion. Like a wedding…the birth of a child.’

‘I see…’

‘Is it difficult making…all those meals you mentioned?’ Beatrice asked him.

‘Not at all. Well, not for me anyway. I love cooking, its like creating a fine piece of art. And to see the finished result, and taste the finishing result…’

Vladislav did something now that Beatrice had not yet seen.

He licked his lips. Well, where his lips would have been. A long thick tongue came out and ran over his strange teeth, before slipping back down his throat and vanishing.

It had happened so quickly, that Beatrice began to doubt herself at what she had seen.

‘Cooking is a real passion of mine’ Vladislav went on.

‘Do you…’ Beatrice began, ‘taste…like other people do?’

‘I do’ Vladislav answered. ‘Maybe more so. But that’s only because of my love of food. I like to try a lot of recipes, lots of different herbs and spices. Over time my palette has developed, and I can identify all sorts of different ingredients by taste with ease. What a meal needs…what its missing…’

‘What’s a palette?’

‘It means taste’ Vladislav told her.

‘Oh.’

Vladislav dipped his head then.

‘Please eat’ he told her gently. ‘You must be hungry after all that walking.’

‘What about you?’

‘I will eat a little later when I’ve decided what I want’ Vladislav replied. ‘Now would you like to try a little bit of honey with your pancakes?’