-9-
The Harvest Moon

My shift in the dunking booth had come to an end. The Sun was now setting over the gable roofs of Iskay Village. The cobblestone square had fallen quite. I thought like most folk festivals there would be a dance at the end. I was wrong, there was no dance. The villagers simply retreated inside to the warmth of their houses.

I took a deep breath as I watched the long shadows of the last rays of evening sun crawl along the cobblestones.  My shift in the dunking booth had covered the whole run of the festival. Meaning I'd had little time to shop or enjoy it. But then again it had all been for a good cause. According to Master Wyatt, I'd raised around twenty eight crowns in total. A fair bit he said, he was hoping for thirty crowns. Shrugging my shoulders I reached into my leather drawstring purse and pulled out two golden crowns and handed it to him. A look of shock, then greed came over his face as he reached out with trembling hands and took the heavy golden coins into his itchy palms.

After that I'd decided I'll need to go on another adventure. My funds were getting kind of low and this little holiday had damn near depleted my treasure. Releasing my breath as I turned toward the inn. I'd only been allowed to towel off and my dress stuck to my body. Plus I was sore, climbing in and out of the dunking booth all day had been murder on my thighs and legs, and bouncing off the bottom of the tank had left me sore too.

As I started walking toward the inn. I felt the first curls of disappointment starting to rise up. I'd hope to see John Lapham again. I'd hoped maybe he and I could have shared a dance under the harvest moon, maybe he would have even kissed me. Hell I'd even hoped he would have confessed his love for me. Did I love him? I don't know, I don't think it's possible to fall in love with a man you have only seen twice. If he had confessed his love to me would I have accepted it? Another tough question. One I don't think I could answer right now.

I mean it seemed romantic to me, having a boy confessing his love for you at the annual harvest festival. Maybe even dropping down to one knee. Then with a small smile, he would take both of my hands into one of his and with his other he would reach into the pocket of his overcoat and pull out a small brown box and in a shuttering kind of way that we women find cute would say.

'Jeanette Katherine Hood' He would then pause. 'Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife and helping me rule over my budding merchant empire'. Of course I would have said yes! I would have jumped into his arms and kissed him. Then he would open the boy to reveal a small, tiny band of gold that he would then slip onto my finger. 

A wedding would of course soon follow. Of course Bridget would be my Maid of Honor. And I'll have Priscilla as one of my bride's maids. Oliver would be John's Best Man, cause why not. Our wedding of course would be the talk of the region and details of it would be carried in all the regional papers. And nine months later, well I'll give birth to our first child. I wanted my first child to be a girl, daughters are supposed to give sugar to the fathers lips, then maybe nine months later I’ll give birth again. I would want my second child a boy, because I would want the girl to have a little brother to look after.

I also had another reason for wanting to get married soon. I had this fear of dying a virgin. I mean in my last life I'd died a virgin. And well, I did not want to die in this life as a virgin. I wanted to know how it would feel to be loved and to have love made to me.

All of these thoughts swirled around in my head as I strolled through the cobblestone paved streets. It was now Twilight and the town's lamplighter was starting to make his nightly rounds. The lamplighter was a young man, maybe twelve or thirteen years old, he had sandy blonde hair that barely reached down to the collar of his brown woolen jacket. He wore tight, form fitting leather trousers with the legs tucked into a pair of brown leather boots. For a moment I watched him light one lamp after another.

Then I resumed my stroll toward the end. I noticed the taverns seemed to be overflowing, which I suppose would be a common thing considering today was a holiday. For a moment I thought about stepping into one of the taverns and having me a pitcher of beer. But then I remembered I was a woman, and taverns were known breeding grounds for thieves, highwaymen, brigands, bandits, and other known outlaws.

Of course not all taverns were like that, some very nice places where one could get a drink and enjoy a bit of dinner. But the ones I'd passed on street that night were the kind's we in the trade call 'Hellholes' those being the kind of tavern that seemed to be falling in, that are often patron by, again thieves, known highwaymen, known brigands, known bandits, and other outlaw types. 

An 'Hellhole' was the kind of place where the keeper would water down the wine, the beer would be sour. And the beds if they had any for rent would be infested with lice, flees, and bedbugs. Were the woman who was making passes at you would lure you out back so she could slip a knife between your ribs. And the place were a woman only went too if she wanted to get raped and end up with a bastard child. Or worse,  a knife between the breast, or a far worse fate awaited any woman foolish enough to venture along in there. That would be kidnapping, being kidnapped and sold to a whorehouse. Yes, I’d heard rumors of women with pretty hair and doe like eyes being kidnapped from the streets and sold into brothels where they would spend the rest of their days being passed around by rough men, who cared little for her safety and only draining their balls in her. The life would be short, normally they would pass away from some incurable disease or one of the guys would kill her in a fit of rage. 

I also heard that women who worked in such houses often became pregnant. And once they were discovered they were either killed or cast out on the streets. Then heavy with child, and without means of supporting themselves or the child they carried, they would often tie heavy an stone around their ankle and toss themselves into the ocean. Or throw themselves in front of a heavy wagon. In hopes the wooden wheels would crush them and put an end to their suffering. 

In short, not a place for me. And I kept walking, and I walked till I reached the inn where I was staying out. Without saying a word I asked for supper. Supper was cold roasted chicken, peas, brown rye bread with a bit of butter smeared on it. And a jug of ice water to wash it down. Since it was a holiday, dessert was offered. Thankfully free of charge, the after dinner sweet was kind of a sweet custard that was like pudding. It came with a side of fresh picked strawberries, or what I'm going to assume were strawberries.

Never a big fan of strawberries, in this life or in my last I left those untouched but pigged out on the dish of custard that was thick like pudding and sweet as honey. I even called for a second dish and returned the strawberries to the kitchen. 

After that I returned to my room. Stripped myself of my gown, washed my face, my arms, my legs, dawned a nightie. Brushed my teeth and braided my hair for bed. And without giving it a second though I turned the covers and the blankets down. I was just about to blow out the candle and crawl into bed when I noticed it, through the thin pane of glass of my room's window, slowly climbing over the many brick chimneys and black slated roofs of the village. Was a bright, full, and yellow moon. It was the Harvest Moon

Without saying a word I started toward the window. Quickly I pushed the window up and the sight that greeted me took my breath away. The dark, black waters of the fountain in the square below reflected the brilliant light of the moon that seemed to sail like a ghost ship across the clear night sky. Billions upon billions of stars shimmered around it.

“What a perfect way to end the day.” I said as I pulled a chair. And so I lost myself in watching the moon and all those lingering questions of the day seemed to vanish like smoke on the wind. And that is how one of many adventures comes to an end.