“Have you heard the truth about the Scarlet Gypsy?” Ed was the town eccentric and often spouted off conspiracy theories and legends–sometimes simultaneously. His wild, bushy beard and equally wild eyes really sold a performance, but left little to be believed. Sitting in the pub watching the young folk romance each other and the old folk clumsily do the same, I often found myself listening to his stories from across the wooden room full of laughter and clanking cheer. Today, Ed was especially wild looking in a tattered brown jacket that jostled crazily with every swing of his arms. And today he was especially amusing as he had directed his thunderous query at me.
“Uh, no,” I said, chuckling. “But I’d love to hear all about it.” I sipped my bitter and looked across the room to the red-haired woman I’d followed in there. She was currently chatting with another fair young lady, so I had little to do but waste time on Ed’s tales.
He turned to the rest of the room dramatically and declared, “It began nearly 500 years ago!”
My friend, Martin, sidled in beside me and sat down. The handsome young man wasn’t exactly wanted at the moment as I’d noticed his eyeing of my red haired girl, but a fellow in this audience wasn’t entirely unnecessary. Someone else had to be subjected to this performance.
“The moon on that night was a sparkling red as it rose high into the sky! My great-great-great-[this went on for some time]-great-great-great grandfather passed this tale aaaaalllll the way down to me!” Ed beat his fingerless gloves against his bony chest here. “My greatest of great grandfathers was a charmer of a man. He strolled through the country with neither coin nor knife, never fearing any bandit nor foe as he walked. The blue-eyed fox could talk his way out of anything the stories say! On this night of the red moon, he found himself walking through an open field toward his next pub. He’d spent all his coin on drink and women, much like some of you here tonight!” He turned back toward me and Martin and locked eyes with me. I could tell there was meant to be a moral to this tale. I could also tell Ed had been in his cups based on the offensive cloud of vapor issuing from him. “As the red moon bled more into herself, he felt a chill and sped his pace as he came to the wood of Blackshire which burned down some centuries ago. A dense layer of darkness paused him before he entered the wood and he heard a haunting melody.” Ed raised his pitch and began to sing in a language I didn’t understand. It sounded eastern. Strange. Ed was the least educated man in town. Where did he learn to sing a song like that? The hairs on my arm started to stand and a coldness ran through me. I made eyes at the red haired woman. She kept talking to the other girl, but she smiled and winked at me. Ed stopped singing. “This mysterious song he heard calling out over the field behind him.” Ed lowered his voice. “He froze. He turned. He looked up and the moon was emblazoned in red. Beneath it, stood a scarlet cloaked woman with a scarf dowry shown as bleeding gold around her waist. The song stopped.” Ed went silent.
Martin chuckled in my ear. “This fella. So strange.”
Ed continued in a low voice as before. “His eyes were fixed on the woman’s. She beckoned him to come closer with a single finger. The darkness at his back felt cold against his neck. But her face looked so warm and beautiful in the red moonlight. He stepped toward her. His feet carried themselves to her. The crunch of grass beneath his feet was louder than it had ever been. He wanted to turn, but he wanted to get closer to her. She kept on motioning him closer and closer. When he reached her, the moon ceased her bleeding and the gold on her waist quit their bleeding as well. But her cloak was still the deepest scarlet my grandfather had ever seen!” I leaned in closer. Ed had drawn me in more than I expected him too. “She took his hand and brought him off the path to the woods. Therein was a caravan. Wooden wagons adorned with silks and candles and wines and foods. In the center was a fire roaring that cast light all around on every wagon. They were alone as she pushed him down against a log by the fire. As if from nowhere, she produced a bowl of rice and meat. ‘Oh. No. I’m not hungry,’ my grandfather said. She set the bowl aside. She knew he would become hungrier the longer she stayed with him. For three days and three nights he stayed in her company. Her cloak was always up. Her brown eyes were just as beautiful in the sunlit forest as it was in the moonlit field. My grandfather spoke to her, but she never spoke back. He felt a strange compulsion to tell her his innermost thoughts. He would tell her stories of love and romance, but she never seemed impressed. My grandfather said, he couldn’t remember why he’d come there or where he was. All he knew was that he wanted to be where she was. He ate her rice. He ate her meat He fed her fire with fallen branches. But he never bedded down with her. Not once. He just needed to be close to her. That was all he knew in the world–hypnotized as he was!”
Martin leaned close to me. “This is strange, even for Ed. Normally he’s on about yeti or aliens. Not this folktale stuff.”
“On the third night, he sat across the fire form her. For the first time he questioned where he was. Why were there no other people in this caravan? How was it just this one woman. And why had they sat still so long that vines and moss had a chance to grow over their wagons. It didn’t make sense and he shook his head. ‘Where am I?’ he said.” Ed finally raised his voice again. “The woman stood and looked him in the eye. All of his memories came back to him. He knew where he was going and remembered, he was on his way out of Blackshire because the town magistrate believed he’d defiled his daughter. The woman sang again. She lowered her hood. Her jaw fell down across her chest revealing rows of needle-like teeth! She gave out a mighty roar!” Ed screamed out a gut-wrenching noise, making all in the pub look at him. “My grandfather wanted to run, but his feet were trapped in ivy. The roar ceased and she said through gaping jaws, ‘I find no fault in you! The blood of the magistrate will be taken in your stead!’ And all at once, the scarlet gypsy was gone!”
“Shut up, Ed! You shut up, right now!” A greying, red haired man who was our mayor stood and brandished a finger at Ed. “Can’t we just have one night at the pub without your crazy stories.”
Ed stumbled down off his chair. “It’s a story from my family, Jacob. Does it offend you? Is there something you don’t want us all to know?”
Jacob heaved a few breaths and turned back to his pint.
I got up and went over to my red haired girl. I was quiet for a moment as I stared at her. “You ok?” she said.
“Yeah.” I put an arm around her waist. “That was some story, huh?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I have some ancestors who say the same. I had a magistrate ancestor who nobody knows how he died.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s related.”
I looked up from my cup and saw Jacob looking at me from across the room. He seemed furious and I remembered that he had mentioned his daughter was coming to town soon. I released the girl, bid her good night, and walked out of the pub.
Coincidentally, that was the last time anyone saw my friend, Martin.
Uncertain 