walking in on the scene… It made his skin crawl.
He would walk around the grounds one more time. If he got to the Crossroads late… Well, he was sure that slimy Shakespeare would keep Sammie occupied.
The Grotto Stage was empty. It only held two or three shows a day since the festival added half a dozen new stages during the last off season. Sammie was offered her pick of any of the new stages for her one performance of the day, but she chose to stay at this remote stage. It was the coolest stage, and the pond behind it was good for her asthma.
Johnny would love to hear Sammie sing. It seemed almost impossible that he’d never once seen her show. He’d never once heard her practice. Arresting people for the first trial and dunke of the day kept him from this part of the grounds during her show.
He’d change that one day. One day, he’d sneak away from his duties. One day, he’d let his constables do the arresting. One day, he would hear his Sammie sing.
“‘Tis a strange thing to find my Lord High Sheriff in such a lowly place.”
A young woman in the dress of one of the festival’s gypsies stood at the edge of the stage. A lock of blond hair fell from her sparkly headband.
A shallow wave of terror swept through him. Was this the gypsy Sammie went to this morning? He didn’t know many fortune tellers were in Gypsy Way, but there weren’t many that were so young. There were even less that were blond.
Had she been the one to tell Sammie her life was going to change today?
What else did she tell her?
The girl walked towards him. He knew what he should do. He knew what his role as Lord High Sheriff was. The gypsy was riff raff. She had no right to be so near him. She had no right to be so far away from the evil depths of the Gypsy Way. He should warn her about being arrested, about meeting the pond or the stocks, and then he should have left her in a huff. Even without an abundance of tourists around to see… That is what he should have done.
But would he?
Could he?
He grabbed her arm and pulled her close.
No. He wouldn’t do that at all.
<>
The girl walked away from the Pits like a hyena hopped up on helium. Her friends giggled themselves crazy at the end of the seats, waiting for her to show them the picture she’d just taken with the three mud beggars.
Vaughn was to blame for her giddy hysteria. Partially at least. He and his fellow beggars had tormented the girl ceaselessly while a friend tried to take a picture. They’d made horrendous faces at her and threatened her perfectly clean flouncy shirt with their muddy hands. But that was part of the fun of being a beggar.
Vaughn slipped around the back of the stage. He needed a breather. A moment of clarity before he and his muddy cousins took to the festival’s paths again. Here there was a cool breeze from the pond. Here he was completely hidden from the rest of the festival.
Something caught his eye. From his vantage point, he could see straight into the Grotto Stage.
What in the hell was Johnny doing in the otherwise empty stage? He never came down here. He’d never even bothered to show up for one of his own fiancée’s performances. So what was he doing there now?
And what was he doing wrapped in the arms and legs of somebody who was clearly not Sammie?
Vaughn took a slow step forward. The girl came into view for the first time.
It was the gypsy. The young blond who, not two hours ago, told Sammie that her life was going to change. She questioned whether Sammie’s love was really her true love.
At the time it had seemed like a fortune that would work for almost anyone. But now he knew different. The gypsy had been right about everything.
The marathon kiss came to an end. The gypsy walked back to Gypsy Way without so much as a glance over her shoulder. Johnny turned.
His eyes went wide. All color drained from his face.
Vaughn turned
Michael Z. Williamson, John Ringo Jody Lynn Nye Harry Turtledove S.M. Stirling