“Saffire! Aren’t you coming out to the parade?” Hana tugged at my arm, causing me to drop the saucepan. It clanged heavily against the stone floor. Grinning, Hana picked up the pan and presented it with a flourish.
I put it away and smoothed my skirt, trying to brush away the stains along with the crumbs of the bread that I had been baking. “Sure, but don’t moan at me for money. Everything is so overpriced.”
Hana rolled her eyes as she skipped to the door. She tapped her foot impatiently while I shoved on my old, comfortable shoes.
We stepped into the crisp, autumn air, barely feeling the watery sunlight. Hana’s teeth chattered. I could see the flags over the tops of the houses, the bright colours against the grey sky.
I expected to be greeeted by neighbours who were also on their way to the town square. Usually they smiled and nodded when they saw us, and sometimes gave little wrapped sweets to Hana, but only a few even acknowledged us; the rest had distant, far away gazes. I wondered if it was something I had done.
Hana was skipping quite a way in front of me now, and I had to jog to catch up. The mood in the square was oddly subdued. I remembered last year’s festival – the excited crowd, the carefree, joyous atmosphere.
“Can we please have a look at the horses?” Hana tugged the sleeve of my blouse, her face looking hopefully up into mine.
I wiped a smudge of dirt from the side of her face, and nodded. We jostled and pushed our way through the crowds, to where the livestock were penned on market days. Hana let out a gasp of dismay. Usually, there were at least twenty horses on show. This year there were five scattered around. Hana forced herself through the congregation at the fence to take a better look, and I stood to the side.
The stable master was talking in a hushed voice to a young woman, who hung over the edge of the fence. I sidled towards him. Normally people in the town didn’t keep secrets.
“I heard it’s today,” the stable master was saying, “I wouldn’t be surprised if riots break out.”
I quickly turned towards the horses, but the stable master had seen me staring and their conversation stopped.
Hana leapt over to me and grinned. I smiled back, the feeling of anxiety weighing me down, and we walked back into the crowd that was forming into two lines along either side of the main track.
The procession was coming – all bright colours and flamboyance. The dancers were first, whirling and twirling in their floaty costumes like petals skimming across the wind on an autumn day. Hana, who loved the dancers, was the most enthusiastic member of the crowd, cheering and clapping.
Drums then boomed through the air, and the clapping stopped. The cheering changed to lowered whispers and small gasps. The flags that had been fluttering in the breeze abruptly stopped. The soldiers clomped their boots for the final beat. Their weapons flashed menacingly in the sunlight and the crowd shuffled backwards. Silence smothered the square.
