Three Word Wednesday #207 - gait, nudge, ripen

She watched him walk through the market. He had a strange, slow gait. Almost loping. Like a lion’s. It was majestic in a way, she supposed. Even he had some beauty about him. A blind beggar. Always there. Feeling his way about, that mongrel always jumping by his feet, barking incessantly. She was a noblewoman, but for some reason she found him intriguing. The way he never seemed miserable.

Why was it that she, a noblewoman who had everything money could buy, felt miserable, but he, a blind beggar, seemed to have no worries at all? How could that be possible? How could he be happier than she? She didn’t understand it. Her maid nudged her slightly.

“Come, Your Ladyship. We are expected back at the fort by five,” the maid told her, leading her away from the crowded market and back to the carriage.

“Just a moment more,” she replied, shaking off her maid and turning back toward the market.

Everyone seemed happy. Except for her. Children chased each other around the stalls, and the general commotion was somehow comforting. Not like the complete silence back at the fort. No, there she had curfews and rules to follow. She must learn Latin. And Greek. And ladylike skills such as sewing and looking pretty. None of the women here at the market needed to waste their time learning such trifling things. They could look at the ripened apples and pumpkins stacked in little towers of red, green, gold, and orange. Fabric from the East, tinted with indigo dye and lined with gold thread. Trinkets and baubles in another corner. There was just so much life here. Life that seemed nonexistent in the fort.

“We must go, My Lady,” the maid said, tugging her arm gently. “The market will come in again in a fortnight. His Lordship is waiting for you in the fort. You musn’t keep him waiting.”

She sighed. “Yes, mustn’t keep him waiting,” she said as she turned back toward her carriage.