the Tale of Sir Isaac



“What else?” she encouraged again — but he had no chance to answer. After only a brief tap, a stout, older woman bustled in, utterly ignoring Isaac’s nudity and carrying a tray.

“Rise and shine, duckies!” she sang out, setting the tray by the fireplace and stirring up the fire. Beaming, she turned back to them. “Oh, you look a ray of sunshine, darling, how grand!” She reached out and pinched Isaac’s cheek. “Such a handsome lad you’ve found here.”

He had only just opened up his mouth to form a response, before a strange woman entered their room without announcing her presence, moving around the room without seeming at all bothered about their nudity.

Managing to tuck the blankets up to his shoulders, he turned a helpless gaze on Summer as the woman pinched his cheek, torn between indignation and amusement as to her antics. “I…hello there?”

“I’m the housekeeper, ducky,” she said comfortably, still smiling broadly. “Come now, out of the bed, there’s much to do and you’ve kept to yourselves long enough.”

Summer sighed, closing her eyes. “Maire, we were busy,” she said meaningfully.

“Sure, and don’t I know it, and aren’t we all pleased as punch for it, darling, but the sun’s high and the seneschal’s impatient, and so’s the seamstress.” The housekeeper pulled at the blankets, tugging them away. “I’ve brought you breakfast.”

“I thought I was a princess,” Summer muttered.

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