Ring of Dreams

The Lone Wanderer

The game trail cut to the left through a field, but Jane didn't need it anymore. She could see what looked like a real road in the opposite direction, and she made for it. It wasn't much of a road, she discovered, just the dusty double line of a cart track. Still, it made a beeline for the cluster of houses she had seen and so Jane followed it, feeling cheerful. Out from under the trees the sun was stronger, and she started to get a little warm, but before she had a chance to break into a sweat she made it to the village. 

Whoa, she thought. Now this isn't something you see every day. She'd never thought too hard about what medieval houses would actually look like (or smell like) and she hadn't been prepared for them to be so real. Up close, she could tell that the houses were made of some kind of dull brown blocks - mud bricks, maybe? - and the roofs were all thatched. They were mostly dark brown with age and weathering, although here and there the brighter gold of newer thatch was visible. Then there was the smell, an unmistakable smell of waste, like a port-a-potty on a warm day minus the chemical smell of antiseptic. Jane gagged a little, but the breeze picked up and the worst of it blew away. I guess that's what happens when you don't have modern plumbing, she thought.

Chickens and geese darted loose between the buildings, pecking at the ground and providing a background of clucking, honking, and crowing that somehow made the whole scene even more fantastic. Somewhere a dog barked, followed by the frantic yowling of a cat, but so far she hadn't seen or heard any people. As she turned a corner, that changed: a small crowd bustled back and forth between the buildings, clustering in an open grassy area surrounded by little wooden stalls. Her stomach fluttered. Now she was getting somewhere!

Jane approached warily. As far as she could tell, her clothes wouldn't attract any undue attention, although it looked like her dress was more elaborate than what most other people were wearing and she didn't see any other green. There were a lot of creams and browns, some yellows and rusty reds, and one man who looked to be very well off was wearing a vivid blue. Most of the women had shorter sleeves, as well. She noticed that a lot of them seemed to be wearing some kind of cloth covering their hair, and she felt nervous until she noticed that the younger women in the crowd all seemed to have bare heads like her. The men were dressed in knee-length - she would have said 'dresses,' but decided on 'tunics' - belted in around the middle with leggings underneath. There was a great deal of good-natured hustle and bustle, and after she took a deep breath, Jane plunged right in.

Almost at once, she regretted not finding a way around. No one stopped her or accosted her - quite the opposite. People moved out of her way with a bow or a curtsy and, at least twice, a "beg pardon, m'lady." It was unnerving. Jane looked anxiously at the buildings around the square: she saw a blacksmith's shop, a tailor's, a shoemaker's and a shop full of candles as well as a bakery before she saw a building with the kind of swinging signboard that she associated with taverns. On the sign was a man wearing a cloak and hood and carrying a pack, and underneath was ornate lettering that she thought read, 'The Lone Wanderer.' That's right, she remembered. They put up the pictures because most of their customers couldn't read. Can't read, I guess.

She stalled outside the open doorway for a moment, trying to think. If anything, it was even louder inside the tavern than out in the square, and the smell of unwashed bodies practically rolled out the door. She sighed. You're not going to get anywhere, Jane, if you don't go in there. She gripped the straps of her pack tightly, took a deep breath, and stepped in.

It was dark inside. Jane stopped, blinking rapidly in an attempt to make her eyes adjust faster. There weren't any windows, so the sunlight streaming through the open door made the rest of the room seem almost pitch-dark in comparison. Gradually, though, she could see that it was lit by a few candles distributed throughout the room. The floor was crammed with heavy wooden tables and benches, and the benches were crammed with people. Most were drinking, and the babble of their laughter and conversation filled the air.