A Fateful Moonstep

Hest strode out to the stable with a new shovel for cleaning stalls, his apple from Torrin, and a jug of Malene’s ale from Maya. He’d enjoy them all, but the ale from Maya was special. Of the three brews Malene served, Maya had chosen his favorite.

Once the items were safely stored where they belonged, he grabbed his cloak and returned to the courtyard, where the others waited. Together they’d walk to the square where the lights would be lit.

Maya had her sash wrapped around her cloak, warming Hest’s heart, and Malene’s scowl had disappeared, which was always a good sign.

Others joined them along the way to the middle of Stad. Families with children in tow, and couples walking hand in hand. They each carried their lanterns and lights, but none of the lamps were lit. They’d wait until the designated time.

The chattering of children announced their arrival at the square. The murmur of adult conversations was a backdrop against the younger ones’ excitement. They filed into the square, greeting neighbors as they went. With time to spare before the lighting ceremony, they stood around. Maya worked her way toward Hest, while Torrin found some friends.

“Thank you, again, for the sash.” Maya ran her hands along the fabric.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Standing next to her was wonderful, and yet awkward at the same time. If Malene saw and noticed his attention… He’d just have to hope she didn’t.

***

The crowd shifted, and Lucas joined them, his hands behind his back. “Uh, hi Maya.”

“Lucas.” Maya’s normal cheerfulness was dampened.

Hest wanted to punch the man, but that would ruin the festival celebration.

“Um, I…” Lucas glanced down at his boots. “I wanted to apologize for my actions the other step at Tsiki’s Choice. I’d had one too many.” He hurried to continue. “That doesn’t make it right, just wanted to explain why. Normally, I’d not have the gumption… I mean… Well…” He pulled the wooden box from behind his back and thrust it into Maya’s hands. “Maybe this will express my sorrow.”

Maya stared. “Lucas, I—”

“It’s yours, whether or not you’ll accept my apology. I’ll do better from here on out.” With that, he slid back into the crowd, leaving Maya and Hest staring after him.

“What…” Maya shook her head. “Men! Now what do I tell Mother?” But she caressed the wood.

***

“Hear ye! Hear ye!” The borgmastare called out from the center of the square where a platform had been erected. Once it was quiet, he continued. “Welcome to the Festival of Stars. Each turn, we reflect back on the last and look forward to the new. Without Handi and Tsiki, our steps would be dark indeed.” He raised his hands to indicate the dark skies. Clouds skittered across them, blocking out the stars. “But on this moonstep, we focus on the good and light our small lights as tokens of hope. May Tsiki and Handi guide your every step this coming turn.”

“And yours!” The crowd echoed back.

“Then we will reflect.”

A breeze flicked Hest’s cloak, and he shivered. Maya scooted closer, her hand brushing his. His heart fluttered worse than his cloak, but he squeezed her hand. As he stared up at the sky, the clouds parted, revealing the stars, and the crowd exclaimed.

“Now, fill the skies with your hope!” The borgmastare called out.

Everyone paused to light their lanterns and then held them up. The breeze took the paper lanterns from their hands and lifted them into the air. Soon the sky was filled with tiny lights.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Maya whispered.

“It is.” Hest agreed, but he was staring at her.

Her blonde hair reflected the miniature lights turning it golden, and the smile on her lips was one to be treasured. He longed to reach up and kiss her, but he held back. If he followed through with his longing, Malene would see, and his gift had brought enough of a frown to her face. He’d wait until the time was right, not in the middle of a crowded square.

“May your turn bring you all you desire, Hest.”  

“The same to you.”

Hest smiled. If this was the beginning of the turn, it was bound to be the best of his nineteen. Maybe by the end, he’d work up the courage to ask Maya out and even kiss her. But for now, he’d content himself with standing by her, their fingers touching as they watched the lanterns fade into the stars.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this glimpse into Four Stars over Ardatz and Uprooted via Festival of Stars.

A Family Gathering

Hest groaned as he awoke. The Festival of Stars was this moonstep. He might as well get the horses cared for first.

“Hest! Hest are you awake?” Torrin’s call was strident and full of holiday excitement. “Hest, come see what mother gave me!”

Pulling his door open, he shouted down the stairs, “Let me get dressed first, and you’d better not be making the horses upset with your commotion.”

He’d ask the lad to help, but it usually required twice the effort when Torrin tried to ‘help’. Instead, he slipped into his trousers and hurried downstairs.

As he scooped oats into a bucket, he asked, “What has you so excited, Torrin?”

“Look!” He held out a book with gold lettering on the cover, and an embossed dragon blew fire around the edge.

“Woah!” Hest exclaimed. “That is beautiful.”

“I bet it even has some tales you’ve never heard before.”

“Probably. Are you going to sit still long enough to read it?” Hest chuckled.

Torrin frowned. “I can sit still—when I want to.”

“I know.” Hest ruffled the lad’s hair. “Maybe I can read a tale to you every step.”

“Would you?” Torrin lifted hope-filled eyes to him.

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Thank you, Hest! Thank you!”

Hest chuckled. “You’re welcome. Now, I need to clean these stalls and exercise the horses. Chores won’t wait just because it’s a holiday.”

With a short nod, Torrin took his book to the hay loft and flipped through it. Hest watched him for a few heartbeats then reached for the old shovel, his heart heavy. Even his gift to Torrin would pale in comparison to what the boy had received from his mother. It wasn’t fair! His knuckles whitened as he tossed the manure into the wheel barrel. He might as well have packaged up the compost pile to give as gifts this turn.

***

He went about the chore with a heavy heart, dreading the moment when Malene would want to exchange gifts with him. He couldn’t return what he’d purchased, though. He might as well follow through with his original plan, even if it made him feel like a horse fly—a nuisance to be swatted away.

With only two horses boarding at the moment, and no new customers coming in since the inn would be open only to existing clients for this moonstep, Hest had the stables clean in no time. Once finished, he went in to break his fast. The dining hall was empty, so he opened the door to the kitchen.

“Now, Wilma, you don’t have to bake all that,” Malene said. “The dining hall will be closed for the festival.”

“I know. Consider it my festival gift to your family.” Wilma slid a tray of cookies out of the oven. “Besides, one batch is no different than three.”

Malene sighed. “Thank you, but make sure you take some home to your own family, then.”

“I will,” the cook said, slipping a spatula under a cookie and setting it out on a cloth to cool. “Oh, Hest, there’s porridge and fresh bread. Help yourself.”

“Thank you.” He dished himself a bowl and then spread butter on the soft bread.

“Hest, you’ll be joining us for the festival lighting, right?”

He tried to swallow a bite of the bread, but it stuck to his mouth. “Yes.” The word came out muffled, and he tried again. “Yes, thank you.”

“You’re part of our family.” Malene looked him over with a critical eye. “You’ll want a warm cloak. Without Handi or Tsiki, the temperatures will drop, and the wind’s been blowing. We’ll be getting the rains soon enough.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He hated it when she mothered him.

“We’ll have our family meal, then go to the square like always. You can exchange gifts when we do.”

“Oh?” Hest glanced up from his porridge. “Torrin showed me his gift.”

“Oh, that.” Malene waved her hand. “He was pestering me to open something early, so I let him choose one gift.”

They had more than one gift? Hest gaped. The inn must have been profitable this past turn if Malene felt that generous. Again, his heart sank. If only he’d had more to spend on gifts for them.

***

The moonstep dragged on until at long last it was time for the meal. Hest brought his meager gifts inside and set them in front of the window where the other gifts sat. Lit candles lent an air of festivity.

“Hest’s here!” Torrin ran into the room. “What’d you bring me?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” Hest grinned. The boy’s enthusiasm was contagious.

“I can’t wait for you to open your gift.” Torrin pointed to a long package.

That was for him? Again, his small presents seemed dwarfed in comparison. If only he wasn’t an orphan. He blinked back the tears that wanted to spill over.

“Welcome.” Maya smiled shyly up at him. “May your turn be filled with light and joy.”

He licked his lips and forced his voice steady. “Thank you, and may yours be guided as surely as Handi and Tsiki guide our steps.”

“The meal will be ready shortly.” She looked away, fiddling with her skirt.

How had he never noticed how shapely her form was? Or was it the dress?

“Is that new?”

Her smile broadened. “Made specially for the festival. Do… do you like it?”

“It’s pretty—like…” He licked his lips. “Like the one who’s wearing it.”

There. He’d said it!

“All right, everyone, wash up.” Malene entered, and the aroma of baked ham followed. “I’ll want you sitting down to eat while it’s hot.” She settled a basket of rolls on the table. “Go on! And Torrin, scrub under those nails. I don’t want to see dirt for the festival.”

“Yes, mother.” Torrin scurried to comply.

“You, too, Hest. No stable at the table.”

With a nod, Hest joined Torrin at the wash sink. Once their hands shone, they returned to the table and found their seats.

Malene carried the ham in and placed it in the center of the table, glanced about, and then nodded with satisfaction. “This festival season, let us be grateful for what we have. Family above all else, and friends as well.” She made eye contact with each of them. “May your turn be the best it can be.”

“And yours,” the three of them said in unison.

“Now, let’s eat.” Malene stabbed a potato and passed the platter around.

Besides the traditional ham and potatoes, there was corn, and rolls with jam.

“Save room for dessert.” Maya handed the bowl of corn to Torrin. “I made apple pie.”

“And is there ice cream?” Torrin’s eyes lit up.

Malene chuckled. “For festival? Of course.”

“Yes!” Torrin exclaimed, bringing laughter to all of them.

***

When their bellies were full, the pie and ice cream had been appropriately appreciated, and the table cleared, Malene led them back to the window where the presents awaited their opening.

Torrin bounced around, until Malene commanded he sit. Then he settled on his knees to fidget while she handed out the gifts to each of them. Soon, all but Torrin had three gifts before them; the boy only had two.

“Now, then,” Malene said as she settled into a cushioned chair, “Hest should open one first.”

“Me?”

Malene smiled at him and nodded.

He glanced at the three gifts—the long, narrow one from Malene, a squat, round one tied with a  bow from Maya, and a small box from Torrin. He’d save the big one for last; that left Maya’s or Torrin’s.

“Open mine!” Torrin urged him.

Decision made, Hest tore into the package. “An apple?”

Torrin nodded. “It should be good enough for the horses if you want, but I thought you’d like it. They came in fresh yesterstep.”

The fruit felt firm and even smelled faintly of the pie Maya had made. It was a good gift.

“Thank you, Torrin.”

“I knew you’d like it. Now, is it my turn?” Torrin ran his hands over his gifts.

“Do you really want it to be over with that quickly?” Malene frowned. “You already opened my gift yesterstep.”

“It’s just so exciting.” Torrin frowned. “I guess, I can wait.”

“Good, then Maya, it’s your turn.”

Maya closed her eyes and held out her hands to the gifts in front of her. By feel she chose one. Hest held his breath. It was his! With careful movements, she slipped the knot free, then pulled the string off, leaving the paper the only thing hiding the contents. At last, she lifted the paper, revealing the sash. Her mouth formed an ‘oh’, but no sound came out as she lifted the fabric to her cheek, a look of pure bliss on her face.

“That’s quite the gift.” Malene broke Maya’s trance.

“Yes, thank you, Hest! It’s… beautiful!” The last word was a whisper.

He felt the heat race up his neck. “You’re welcome. I saw them, and thought you could use it for…” He trailed off. “Well…” He glanced down at his hands, anywhere but at her glowing eyes or Malene’s scowl. “The merchant suggested them for holding a cloak tight about you in the winds, but I thought… I thought you could also use it for a dress… or… something.”

“Thank you.”

Those two words filled him with awe. She was satisfied.

“You’re welcome.” He repeated.

“Well, Torrin, looks like it’s your turn.” Malene’s voice held a fake lightness, but the lad didn’t catch on.

“Then I’m opening Hest’s gift!” He tore into the package and soon had the portrait sitting in his lap, a grin on his face. “Perfect! It’ll go with my story book. Thank you, Hest.”

“Thought you’d like it.”

Relief filled Hest. He should have known Torrin would be easy to please, and here he’d worried for nothing the last several moonsteps.

Continue the final installment of Festival of Stars to see what else happens on this special holiday in Stad.

A Festive Gift

The next moonstep, Hest cleaned the stalls, exercised the few horses that were boarding with them, and handed off two horses to their owners who’d stayed the rest period. Once he was sure all was in order until after the mid-meal, he climbed the stairs to his room and pulled out a small box from under his bed. He dumped the coins out onto the blanket and began counting them.

He frowned and split them into three depressingly small piles. How was he to find a gift for Maya that spoke what he felt? And how could he keep Malene from becoming overly protective of her daughter? He sighed and scooped the coins into a pouch. There was only one way to find out.

With his resolve firm, he snuffed the lamp. Noticing the darkener skies, he grabbed his cloak. As he stepped out of the stable, he pulled it closer about him. The winds had picked up, sending clouds scurrying across the sky to play peek-a-boo with the moons. Those very clouds would eventually bring the early rains and maybe even snow, but for now, they were too high and passing too quickly to be of concern for walking through town.

The village wasn’t large enough to have a shopping district like he’d heard Edsbyn had, but there was a merchant’s shop and if he was fortunate, there might be several artisans who’d set up their wares for display. He’d see what Kersten had to offer first.

As he walked into the store, a crowd was gathered around the counter, and Kersten was explaining the value of that particular item. He stood on tip-toe to see over their shoulders.

“…came from south of Huvudstaden. The wood is of exceptional quality, and the details are exquisite. The hinges operate without a flaw. The lining comes all the way from Twilli and is perfect for protecting whatever precious jewelry a young lady has.”

“From Twilli?” Someone asked. “Isn’t that a bit far-fetched, Kersten?”

The merchant woman glared. “Have you ever known me to lie, Hugo?” She continued without giving him a chance to respond. “If Ella was here, she’d be begging you to buy this jewelry box. I know for a fact, once she lays eyes on it, she’ll be harping on you as well.”

Several chuckled.

“Fine,” Hugo mumbled. “Just don’t show it to my wife.”

As Kersten closed the box, the lamplight reflected off the rich tan of the box, highlighting the darker lines that flowed in waves across it. It would be the perfect gift for Maya, but wood was rare in Stad.

“How much is it, Kersten?” Oscar asked, leaning in for a closer look.

“Two gold and a pound.”

Hest groaned, and the crowd dispersed, many shaking their heads. The price was above the hardworking people. Kersten gently closed the box and returned it to the display shelf.

What could he afford with his fifteen shillings? Not even a single pound! He wandered through the aisles looking over the wares, but nothing caught his eye—nothing spoke to him saying it was good enough for Maya. With a heavy trod, he left the shop.

***

Where to, now? His feet seemed to know the answer, and soon he found himself staring out at the square where in two moonsteps, the people of Stad would gather to send off their lights to fill the sky in the absence of the moons.

A stray wind flipped his cloak away from him, and he shivered.

“Looks like you could use a tie for your cloak,” an elderly lady said, extending her hand to showcase her display. A rack of varied-colored sashes fluttered in the breeze.

Here was something Maya would enjoy. He stepped closer, examining the fabric, and immediately, his mouth dropped open.

“It’s the best Twilli has to offer,” the merchant smiled, her face creasing into even more wrinkles. “That grey one suits you.”

Hest closed his mouth and shook his head. “I’m looking for a friend.”

“Ah, a festival gift, then. What color eyes does she have?”

Heat rushed up Hest’s neck, but he held her gaze. “Blue, with blond hair.”

“Like many a girl of the north.” The woman pursed her lips, then nodded. “Any of these blues, or maybe that grey as well. It depends on how dark her eyes are.”

The indicated sashes were all varying shades of the sky. Not wanting to hear that he couldn’t afford them, Hest hesitated in asking the price. Instead, he ran his fingers over them, marveling at the softness.

“How…” He licked his lips. “How much?”

“Ah, my friend,” the woman said with a sparkle in her eyes, “I can tell a soulmate when I see one. Someone with few coins and a taste for the elegant. Each one is worth ten shillings.”

He had been afraid of that, but before he could express his gratitude for her time, she hurried on.

“But for you, I can let you have this one,” she held up the grey one, “for eight shillings.”

Hest froze. Eight shillings. That would leave him with seven to find gifts for Torrin and Malene. He could probably do that.

“Thank you,” he said, glad there wasn’t a waver in his voice. “I’ll take it.”

The merchant wrapped the sash in tissue paper and placed it in a sack. “I hope she appreciates it.”

“She will.”

Now, he had the easier job of shopping for Torrin and Malene, but he wasn’t anywhere as excited about the prospect as he was as he was of handing the sash to Maya. He tucked the sack under his arm and strode back to Kersten’s.

***

The shop was a welcome warmth from the wind, and Hest meandered looking for something that he could purchase for Torrin and Malene.

An artist’s rendition of Wilhelm the Brave called to him from behind the counter. Torrin would love it. That left him with another four shillings for Malene. Kitchen towels? He shook his head. Too mundane. An apron? He frowned. Maybe. But definitely not the red one. He lifted that one up to see the next. Green, not that either. Finally, at the bottom of the pile, there was a purple one that fit the innkeeper.

With his mind made up, he took it to the counter.

“Find what you were after?” Kersten asked with a smile.

“Yes, thank you. I’ll also take that portrait of Wilhelm the Brave.”

“Ah, a young adventurer, huh?”

Hest grinned. “I’ve told the tale enough times to Torrin, he probably has his own imagining of Wilhelm, but this will satisfy him.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Want it wrapped?”

“Yes, please.”

He turned to lean against the counter, and his heart sank as he saw Lucas enter, the man’s expression fixed on one thing.

“Where is it?” Lucas glanced about. “Oscar said there was a unique piece…” He trailed off as his jaw dropped, and he placed each foot carefully in front of the other as if the box would disappear if he took a normal step.

“I’ll be with you in a bit,” Kersten called.

Lucas stared, transfixed at the box. Hest couldn’t blame him. It was a work of art, even more so than the portrait. He only wished he’d had enough coins to purchase it for Maya, but it wasn’t worth worrying over what he couldn’t do.

After several moments of Lucas drooling and Hest shaking his head, Kersten returned. “Now, here you are, Hest. What can I do for you, Lucas?”

“Um, that.” Lucas swallowed. “How much is it?” He fumbled at his side for a pouch that clinked.

“A gold and a pound.” Kersten raised an eyebrow. “You have that?”

Lucas nodded and dropped the pouch on the counter. “Right here.”

A chill ran up Hest’s spine. Who would Lucas be purchasing the box for? Lucas began counting out the coins.

When he was finished, he ran a hand over the wood. “And where’s the wood from?”

“South of Huvudstaden, and it’s real Twilli silk inside. Some young lady’s going to receive a gift fit for a princess.”

“I just hope it’ll speak louder than my actions yesterstep,” Lucas said, regret coloring his voice. “She’ll love it, but will she accept it as my apology?”

“A woman would be crazy not to accept this. Now do you want me to wrap it?” Kersten looked to Lucas. “I could put a tag on it that you could sign, if you’d like.”

Lucas’s eyes lit up. “That would be wonderful! Maybe Maya will listen more if there’s something in writing.”

Hest’s heart stopped, and the packages in his arms felt suddenly light. Maya? Lucas was trying to make amends for his actions. What was Hest’s gift in comparison to the wonderful jewelry box? With heavy feet, he trod back to the stable and deposited his gifts on his dresser. For the first time, he wished the Festival of Stars wasn’t a gift-giving celebration.

The young urchin inhaled the scent of myrtle wood. It reminded him of Momma. The thought of her always brought pain. He pushed the memories down and listened to the night sounds of frogs and locusts. Curling up to go to sleep under the boughs of the tree, an odd noise caught his attention. He peered out from the darkness. A group of men carrying torches marched by his hiding place. After they passed, he crawled out and followed them.

“What could they be after?” he wondered.

As the mob stopped, he scurried up a tree to see and not to be seen. The sight surprised him. The men had come to a halt in a clearing in the garden. Olive and myrtle trees gave way to grass. On the grass thirteen men stood. Several seemed to have just awakened from a nap, confusion registered on their faces, while the firelight flickered off their brown eyes. Several women huddled in a group off to the side. The boy couldn’t imagine what the mob wanted with so few men and women.

Movement caught his eye. A man dressed in a tunic with an overcoat stepped out of the crowd and walked forward. His steps showed purpose and familiarity with the area and the group waiting.

“Rabbi,” the man said, greeting one who stood in the center waiting almost as if he had expected his little party to be interrupted.

“Friend, do what you came to do,” the teacher replied.

His voice carried over the sound of the frogs in the distance, over the shuffling of the feet of the crowd, and through the glade. The young lad in the tree froze. He had heard that voice before once long ago. He had no opportunity to think of the memory for a sudden movement tore his attention back to the clearing. The crowd moved forward as one. The lead men seized the man with the gentle voice, turned him around, and held his hands behind his back. In the same instant, a short, burly man with dark curly hair bound forward drawing a dagger and swung at the other man’s head. The boy couldn’t see what happened, but the man with the kind voice turned around, reached out and touched the other’s ear. A collective gasp went up from those around the teacher.

“Shimon,” the voice that evoked memories in the urchin said for all to hear, “put your dagger away. Even now, I could ask Father and he would send messengers to rescue me.” The teacher turned to the crowd. “Every day, I was among you teaching, and you did nothing. But now you come at night with swords and sticks.”

The mob reacted instantly with more surrounding the teacher and grabbing him. The women and the teacher’s friends scattered into the garden. The boy sat in his tree unmoving. Fear coursed through his veins. If the crowd would take this respected teacher, what would they do with a homeless street kid? He watched from his perch as the men pushed the teacher in front of them out through the trees of the garden. Once the lights moved passed him and he could only hear the march of feet but not see them, he slid out of the tree and followed at a safe distance.

Questions swirled in his head much like flies buzzing around the meat market. Who would want to take the teacher? Why would they march him off? Where were they taking him? What about his friends? Had they all deserted him? As he contemplated these questions without answers, he moved silently, accustomed to sneaking around people and not being heard or seen.

“Achim,” he whispered to himself, “you’ve been in many scrapes in the past, but this one beats all.”

Look for the continuation of the story to come later this week. I’ll leave a link to it once it’s posted.