Once again, his eyes scanned the villagers’ faces, then he cleared his voice, and turned to address me. “Shama, I hereby relieve you of any further labor for these people. Babysitting, house cleaning, cooking, window washing, gardening, and fetching groceries over a period of ten or more years sounds more than enough payback for what these people should have given you freely.
They should have viewed your presence in their households as a blessing. I doubt you were a heavy eater, and I can tell from your comportment that you caused them no excess of grief. For those who have any decency in their moral or spiritual beliefs, they should have named you, adopted you into their hearts and viewed you as a gift from Fate, do you understand, child? The burden they placed on your shoulders was not yours.”
He sighed and shook his head once more.
“When I asked these people if you ever caused trouble or were guilty of purposefully breaking things or disrupting their household, not a one of them could venture a single example of how you were difficult, disruptive, or argumentative, which leads me to believe that you were a model child. I think your eagerness to make amends for the supposed sin that they so unfairly placed on your shoulders, reflects the soul of an exemplary young lady.”
“Thank you, your honor,” I said, but I wondered if I should explain how I never succeeded at any task. My cooking was subpar. My weeding left small unwelcome rhizomes behind, and my cleaning efforts showed smudges in the window panes. Even my activities with their children did not meet with the villagers’ expectations. One child had fallen and broken his arm while playing an outside ball sport. Another had cried when someone hurt her feelings.
Repeatedly I’d been told that my failures were the result of my lack of good breeding and its accompanying social and family position. So, it seemed pointless to mention my failings to the judge, because there was nothing he could do about it. No one could change the fate of an orphan.
As if watching my face for reactions, Judge Muffett waited a moment, and then continued.
“Your efforts to repay these people have been earnest and willingly given, Shama. It is a pity that it was probably guilt-driven by the greed of these four families.
I here forth render my judgement on this matter. From now on Shama will no longer provide free services to any of the people who petitioned for compensation for their six months tending Shama. Furthermore, in the matter of selling the horse, Frey, that proposal is rejected.”
I let out a sigh of relief, probably too loudly, but it was good to have at least one of the matters resolved. These villagers’ squabble with me was now officially over.
“Shama,” Judge Muffett, said, drawing my attention back to him.
“You will not offer even a single service of labor to them. That means no babysitting. No gardening. No running to get them a forgotten grocery item. Do you understand? You may not work for any of the villagers, unless they pay you full compensation. Do I have your word on that, Shama?”
“Yes, your honor,” I said. “Thank you.”