A Midsummer's Day Read Free Page B

“The day be young.  The weather be glorious, and all of Sherwood doth lie before your feet.”
     
     

 
    Chapter 3
     
     
    Jameson sighed.
    Once a year, his peaceful Shire was flooded with lawlessness, mischievousness, reckless abandon, and a general lack of dignity that had not been seen in Nottingham since the days of Robin Hood and his merry men.
    It was the festival’s doing.  The hundreds of people to come from outside Nottinghamshire, to come from her Grace’s own Royal Court, brought with them unfathomable behavior.  The despicable way the nobility acted away from their castles…
    Public drunkenness.  Scraps and brawls.  Lewd language and lascivious behavior towards Ladies of the Court and Jameson’s own Nottingham women.
    Thank the stars his Anne knew well enough to stay away from the sinful young men at festival, especially when they were in any state of drunkenness.  But the men, on the other hand…  None of the men could be trusted to keep away from Anne and her tender virtues.
    Anne...  Too long had it been since they were together.  Too long had it been since she was at his side.  He longed to feel her soft skin once again.  The want of her beauty was painful.
    He would just go and find her.
    And on the way, he would find another criminal to send to the dunking chair.
    He headed down Caravan way, a place of strange exoticness from lands to the Far East.  There were different spices and goods, an elephant and a camel for children to ride.  Jameson didn’t trust these strange foreigners, but the Queen insisted on their presence.
    Two young boys scuffled in the path.  Jameson separated them with threats of whippings from their parents and public whippings from him if he found them fighting again.  They ran off, and he found himself back at the Crossroads.
    His Lord and Lady prisoners were thoroughly baked in the midmorning sun, the cloth of their fine raiment soaked through.  They had seen their fair share of punishment and humiliation.
    “Have thou learned thy lessons?” Jameson asked, unlocking their stocks one by one.  “Hath the shame of public humiliation cleansed all sin from thy hearts?”  He looked to the Lord for this answer.  The man was the most to blame.  It would have been his words, his cajoling, that caused the we a k and helpless maid to commit such a sin in such a holy place.
    The Lord stopped stretching his unyielding back and dropped his eyes to the ground in humility.  “Aye, my Lord High Sheriff,” he said meekly.
    “Go forth and seekest thy freedom, with mine own blessing.  Think thee to sin no longer or thou shalt be removed most publically from festival.”
    “My Lord High Sheriff,” the Lord and Lady said together.  They departed in opposite directions.
    Jameson wiped his hands of the situation.  He’d brought some decency back to his Shire.
    He wandered down the Queen’s Road and past the Poet’s Stage.  His mouth watered as aromas assaulted him from every angle.  There were giant turkey legs, the old King Henry’s favorite.  There were apple fritters and battered and roasted chicken.  The hour had grown long since he’d broken his fast.  He’d find Anne, and they would take their midday meal here together.
    “Good day, my Lord High Sheriff.”
    “Good morrow, my Lord High Sheriff.”
    “Where beist your betrothed this noontime, my Lord High Sheriff?”
    It seemed every woman, be them from Nottingham or beyond, sought to wish him a kind greeting as he passed, creating disparaging looks from the men on their arms.  
    He smiled and returned each greeting with a smile and a nod.  He knew he wasn’t unpleasant to look at.
    Neither were any of these women.  It was a shame, however, that none of them could hold a candle to the heavenly beauty radiating from his Anne.
    Not even the most beautiful of these women could come close to his Anne.
    Jameson passed the Woodland stage.  A flight of faery performed Master Shakespeare’s “A