On my sixth trip between the kitchen and the great hall, this time carrying a tray of freshly-baked bread, I encountered the captain of the Spartans, lingering in a shadowy doorway with a scroll of wax-stamped parchment held in his trembling hands.
“Pardon me, sir? Can I get you something? A candle, a seat, some ink? I can take you to the feast, now, if you’re ready- your noble crew and the King haven’t come in yet, but-”
“I am very much at ease here, young lady.”
“Oh- alright then, sir! Please excuse me.” I resume my hurrying, moving along my way, taking a few steps; but something stops me. I turn to him.
“Excuse me, sir. You hail from Sparta, land of fiery Menelaus and radiant Helen, do you not?”
“I do indeed.”
“Oh! Well, you see, noble captain, my mother hailed from Sparta. She worked as a maid, in the palace, and one day she- well, I suppose the rest does not need retelling. I came here on my eleventh birthday, but I miss so dearly the hallowed hills of my homeland. So, I hope you might deign to tell me, a simple wench, of the affairs of King Menelaus, just for a moment.” He looks at me, curious.
“I cannot tell you much, but perhaps I will confide in you this; the King, aware of his propensity for battle, has sent me here with news for Odysseus. Helen has run away; her elopement, with a Trojan prince, has brought dark clouds of war to the horizon.”
“My god!” I blink, then reconsider my harsh language. “Please excuse my surprise, sir; it’s just that, well; if war approaches, Odysseus and every other king along these shores will be called away, will they not?”
“I, too, found this news shocking. A war like this- the storm shall begin any minute.” He looks at the parchment, and I turn to take my leave.
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your candor more than you may ever know.”
“Oh, but wait-” His voice sounds nervous. Sconces on the stone walls flicker. “Menelaus, the brave king of Sparta’s beautiful land, instructed me to tell the news to Odysseus. But I do not know this foreign king, and this island is unfamiliar; will he take it well?” I looked around me, checking to ensure our privacy.
“Odysseus has sworn an oath to our- excuse me, my former- King Menelaus. To renege on that oath; well, I cannot speculate, but the gods look heartily down upon broken promises. He may not take it well, but I pray he will accept his duty nevertheless.”
The man starts, and his eyes narrow. He sighs quickly, as though he had something to say, and walks briskly down the corridor in the opposite direction, turning the corner and disappearing. The bread on my tray has gone cold.
Three main decisions: In this piece, written primarily in dialogue, I initially described the Spartan captain and his hidden location to convey an unusual approachability and lack of aloofness uncommon for a noble of high stature. To do this, I included phrases like “lingering in a shadowy doorway” and “ in his trembling hands,” both of which connote nervousness and a desire to hide away from other people, and by writing these phrases, I implied that, unlike most high-echelon guests, he shows anxiousness, casting the captain as approachable and making his interaction with a servant seem less unrealistic. I also wrote the first words of their interaction, spoken by the narrator (a kitchen maid,) so that she purposefully avoids bringing up the captain’s unusual location, and does not ask him why he lingers in a random hallway, and instead simply asks if he needs “A candle, a seat, some ink”; I had her skirt around the immediately strange circumstances of their interaction to emphasize her role as a slave, in which she must always cater to the needs of superiors without asking questions. Finally, I included short verbal indicators that the narrator, a maid, felt loyal to Menelaus more than to Odysseus, as I wanted to present a clash with the Greek convention of automatic loyalty; when the narrator describes Menelaus as “our- excuse me, my former- King Menelaus,” she implies that, instead of embodying the loyalty to their masters which slaves are presumed to have, yearns for her homeland and holds a separate allegiance, which she knows she must keep hidden (implied with her haste to correct herself.)
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