Journey by Night
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor, and the highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.
He dug his heels hard into the sides of the black horse. He rode faster and faster with the trees rushing past him. The wind howled loudly, echoing over the dark fields. His dark red coat and midnight hat were flowing wildly behind him but then he began to slow as he saw light in the distance.
He and the horse crept along past the entrance of the inn until they were under the high bedroom window. Fortunately the doorman was sleeping, holding an empty bottle of wine.
He came out of the darkness and into the candlelight. He whispered his lover’s name and his eyes were dazzled by her beauty as she rushed to greet him at the window. Her long dark waves fell down gently and he stood up in the stirrups to touch her soft sweet smelling hair. He thought to himself how divine she looked in the flickering fire-light from her bedroom.
“Good evening my Lady,” he said in a soft, irresistible voice. She smiled and replied “Why thank you kind sir. I am glad that you have come.” She giggled shyly and hid behind her dark curtain of hair. He reached up to touch her pale delicate hand and gently kissed it. As he sat back down on his horse, a cold tear rolled down his cheek.
“Young Bess, you are a true beauty on this fine night. It is ours to share together. I must go now, but I will be back at midnight. I will be back with the gold at midnight, so watch for me, wait for me and I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”
She watched him for the last time as he rode off through the torrent of darkness. Neither of the lovers knew that was their last night together, the last night of their secret love and his last journey by night.
He sped back like a mad man with the stolen yellow gold, racing over the grassland with the white road smoking behind him. But as he reached the inn, just one step away from his sweetheart, he was shot down off his horse and left to lie dead like a dog on the highway.
But she will still wait for him, in her fire lit room, while he lies for her on the moonlit road covered by his deep red coat and deep red blood.
For the road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor, and the highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.