Andlan's story.
He hadn’t expected to see her. Not now at least, and not like this. She was wandering through the small market outside, slowly working her way up Apple Lane towards Main Street. She was inspecting fruit with her careful eyes and slender hands, totally oblivious to the crowds around her. He was riveted by her presence and couldn’t keep his eyes from drinking in every part of her. Sweat beaded on his forehead, which he brushed away with cold, shaking hands, and he shifted his position slightly so he could see her more clearly.
On his perch by the window he could look down on the market without being seen from the outside, which was precisely why he chose that particular place. In fact, it was why he and Elsbeth had chosen that place together. It was supposed to be their dream home, a place of refuge from the outside world. A place where they were equals and were free to be together. But now those dreams had disappeared with the wind. The house was a mess from neglect, in major need of renovating, and was infested with rats. He looked around the room he was in; the main bedroom. The walls were dirty and broken, the floor lacked polish, and the stench of urine made his stomach turn. Squatters had found their way inside the house, but after a stern word and upon presentation of his well used sword, they quickly scurried away.
Turning back to the window, Andlan let his thoughts become consumed with Elsbeth again. The air was cooling outside, and he could see clouds of her breath being swept away on the breeze. How he wanted to feel its warmth on his face again, to feel her skin touch his, and to hear her voice say his name again. But he knew that that was never going to happen, it was over.
He watched her subconsciously flick away that familiar lock of hair that insisted on falling in her eyes, and that one simple movement caused a flood of memories to intoxicate his mind. The way she brushed her face like that with her delicate hands made him ache to be those strands of hair. When they had first met, it was that same movement that had led him to pursue her.
It was like in a fairy tale, he had spied her through the window of Francis McLarken’s house, the wealthy owner of a lucrative gold mine, and also father to Elsbeth, and she had somehow sensed his gaze and sought him out.
Their affair had begun passionately. When their eyes first met, he knew he’d found his life and he loved her completely. She was young and eager to experience the adult world. He was a lost soul searching for his place and purpose. The obsession they had for each other consumed them quickly and it was not long before their hearts ruled over their heads. She turned her back on her upbringing and he lost all contact with the world outside their relationship.
Like all impossible affairs it ended abruptly and painfully. Their lives were so different that the multitude of conflicts soon crushed their fragile world. A deep divide, manufactured by the disapproving onlookers of the affair, eventually kept them apart and ruined the heady existence they had created. A pitiful permanently injured soldier of the lowest ranks could never be allowed to marry the daughter-heir of one of the most powerful men in the Kingdom.
Through teary eyes he watched his love walk, seemingly unperturbed by their break-up, slowly up the lane. Merchants selling their wares struggled against each other to be heard. A man, old to the bones, reached out towards Elsbeth with a finely woven rug. Andlan couldn’t hear their conversation, but he knew that the man was asking a too high a price. He and Elsbeth had often walked along the market together, and that man had always called out to them, desperate to sell his wife’s craft. Surprisingly Elsbeth paid the man and took the rug, holding it close to her as she looked up towards Main Street.
He watched her walk further along to a florist, where she hesitated for a moment to appreciate the flowers. He strained to keep her in his view; a few more steps and she would be gone. Behind her, a man with a cart was following the path up the street, which she had just walked. Would the cart pass her before she moved out of view?
Teetering on the edge, his mind awash with mixed feelings of hopeful elation and utter despair, he choked back a sob and whispered her name over and over. Tears ran freely down his face and off his chin, and his knees weakened.
She moved another step, then paused. The man with the cart came up near her, but just before overtaking her she resolutely strode off towards Main Street and out of view.
His heart broke a final time and he closed his eyes in pain. She had decided his fate. It was over.
He unstrapped his scabbard and sword and threw it across the room. It landed with a clatter and slid across the floor, stirring up clouds of dust. Andlan choked on tears, the pain in his chest weighed heavily on him. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
He let his mind fill with images of her when they were happy together, and while he retreated back into this imagined world of bliss he kicked the chair out from underneath him.
Elsbeth's story
Elsbeth stepped from cobblestone to cobblestone almost in a daze. She knew the pathway so well that there was no chance of tripping on the uneven surface. The dark grey stones worn smooth over the years had cracks in every few, some with chips missing. She had always avoided those stones that were cracked, for fear that they would cause bad luck, but now she paid no heed. The pathway leading up to the market felt so different to her now, now that she was walking it alone.
The wind swept past her like an impatient noble, ignoring her mood, her tears, and her broken heart. Pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, she continued on along the pathway towards Apple Lane. She could already hear the hustle and bustle of the market, and occasionally a peasant wandered past her with his hands filled with fresh fruit and vegetables. One particularly friendly young man nodded in greeting as he past, but didn’t acknowledge the pain and confusion that had permanently etched itself on her face. I miss you so much Andlan, she almost mouthed the words to the man who walked by. Unlike her father and other self-important men, Andlan could always guess her moods and anticipate her feelings.
She sighed, trying to alleviate the heavy feeling that crushed her chest, and continued on her way. She came across the first stall owned by a young mother and her two children. Elsbeth loved this stall. They sold small dolls and other crafts, and with every purchase they gave away a deliciously sweet sticky bun. The fresh baked smell wafted towards her and coaxed her closer. The young children ran around behind the stall, kicking a small ball of yarn, much to the distress of their mother who was trying to lookout for their well being and trying to sell her dolls to the passers by at the same time.
Elsbeth almost smiled at the sight. The children wore old clothes and no shoes, but they still looked as happy as can be. A heavy feeling of guilt and anguish lurched in her throat, and she closed her eyes to steady herself. How could she even think of smiling while her heart was in pieces.
Swallowing tears, she walked up to the woman at the stall and gave her the shawl she was wearing, in hopes that it might keep her children warm one night. The surprised woman tentatively accepted the stall with an air of confusion and compassion. She noticed Elsbeth’s pain, and was about to question her actions when one of the children bumped into an empty crate while chasing the ball of yarn. While the woman was distracted, Elsbeth moved along as a few tears trickled down her face.
It was what Andlan would have done, had he been there.
Andlan.
Elsbeth felt on the brink of bursting into tears. She looked around, hoping no one was watching her, and self-consciously flicked away some strands of hair that fell in her eyes. As she moved along, passing by stalls as though they weren’t even there, she saw a familiar figure further up the market near Main Street and her temper instantly fired up. Damon Barnes, how dare you occupy the same street as me.
Standing arrogantly by the side of a building was a tall man of middle years with dark hair slicked back tightly. He was wearing an expensive gold embroidered coat and breeches, with a large shining sword hanging from his waist, and a jewel encrusted dagger at his belt. What on earth is he doing loitering in the market?
Intrigued, but careful not to be seen, Elsbeth slowly walked up the market towards the man, pretending to pay close attention to the merchants and their wares. With eagle eyes she watched Damon, the man to whom her marriage was arranged. He looked around impatiently until a fair-haired woman almost jumped on him from the Main Street.
It was Marlene Esterbrook. Elsbeth’s cousin from the neighbouring town, married to an old real estate dealer. She hadn’t seen her for months, but she’d heard much about her recently. Apparently she was expecting her first child, but it was also widely rumoured that her husband had neither the stamina nor the wit to keep up with her.
What happened next almost took Elsbeth’s breath away. Marlene, apparently so in love with her husband, planted a passionate kiss on Damon’s lips, which he enthusiastically received. As their lips parted they exchanged a few words while Damon’s hand lovingly caressed the swell of Marlene’s belly. Elsbeth almost choked, and quickly averted her eyes to an old man selling rugs and blankets.
“Blanket Miss? Made only from the best materials, by the best hands. For you, only fifteen coppers.” With a large toothless grin, the man held out a beautiful purple and blue embroidered rug. Elsbeth knew this stall well, and while the rugs were indeed very beautiful, the price was rather high for what they were. Not wanting to stand out, she quickly sorted through her coin purse and handed over a silver crown. The man’s eyes bulged as he handed over the rug. After a thousand expressions of thanks from the man, she nodded her head and moved on, she really didn’t want to get dragged into a long conversation with him.
Her heart beat frantically. All her heartbreak over Andlan was pushed aside as waves of revulsion and an uneasy elation took control. Here was her future husband, mixed up in a scandalous affair with her own cousin, and they were in public. He surely didn’t expect any of the upper class to be wandering around the poor quarter and the public market, and that just goes to show how little he knows of me. It was one of her favourite things to do on a Sunday morning, walk the stalls of the market and keep an eye on the property opposite, where her and Andlan hoped to live in one day.
She moved on to a florist and pretended to admire the blossoms while keeping a sharp eye glued to the couple. They’d slipped into a doorway, a few doors up from the house she and Andlan wanted. They were groping one another impulsively, oblivious to the bustling crowds, who were in turn disinterested in the self-indulgent couple. A thousands thoughts raged through Elsbeth’s mind. Such a scandal, she was so excited. Her father adored Damon like he was his own son, but surely this would throw a spanner in the works.
Elsbeth almost felt dizzy. She had to tell her father, she just had to. If he knew of this then their arranged marriage would surely be called off, and if she was no longer engaged then… Andlan, there was still hope for the two forbidden lovers. Elsbeth stood there frozen, a bunch of carnations tickling at her fingertips and a mind full of hope and opportunity. Who should she see first; Andlan or her father, and where would each of them be. While consumed in her thoughts a man with a cart coming up behind her, the noise jolted her back into reality. She dashed off towards Main Street, barely excusing herself as she pushed through the crowds. When she hit Main Street she dropped the rug and bolted to a run, to the surprise of many people around her. Andlan’s humble home was just three streets away, but she just couldn’t get there fast enough. Skirts hitched to the hilt, and panting, she raced through town with a fixed look of glee on her face. Andlan, my beloved, I’m coming.
