Don't Look at the Moon (Complete!)

One

Virgil climbed the roof of the governor's house, his feet soundless on wooden shingles. All he needed to do was get some food, maybe even some coins. His mother was dying, and Virgil had to help her. She knew that he was a thief, but she didn't know who he stole from. If she did, his mother would surely die of shock before Virgil could give her the food and gold he took from the wealthy.

He had stolen money and food from right under the governor's nose before, and he could do it again. Virgil slid through a window that had been left open by a servant, rolling onto the floor soundlessly. All he had to do was get to the kitchen, which would be a floor down and right underneath him. A servant or two might still be up, but they were the least of Virgil's concerns. The guards were much more dangerous, but he had already gotten past them once tonight, albeit without any incriminating stolen goods.

The only light in the huge house came from the occasional oil lamp hanging from a wall, casting long shadows through the hallway.

Virgil knew his path, and he knew where the creaky floorboards were. He turned left and descended the servant's staircase, skipping the third step which he knew would make too much noise. He hopped over the last step, which he knew would be laid with mouse traps to catch the rodents and amateur would-be thieves. But Virgil was no amateur and knew exactly where to step to avoid any noise that could get him caught.

A candlelight shone at the end of the hallway, and Virgil pressed against a corner, his black cloak hiding him in the safe, comforting shadows as a servant passed by without a spare glance. Virgil could tell by the apron she wore that she was the cook, most likely heading off to bed. This was going to be easier than Virgil thought!

He crept without a sound toward where the servant had come from. Toward his prize. To the kitchens.

A locked wooden door was all that separated Virgil from what could be his mother's saving grace. There would be plenty of food in the pantry, and maybe even a punch of coins the cook had left lying about. He quickly took out his lock pick, and the door swung open with a small click, the only sound Virgil would allow. He slunk in like a shadow and lit a match for light, not daring to use a candle, for the bright light could give him away.

Virgil spotted what he was there for- a small leather pouch lay on the counter. He picked it up to look inside, and Virgil also gasped out loud. There must have been about a hundred coins in it! But Virgil knew better than to take the whole thing- instead he scooped out a handful and put the stolen gold in his pocket, putting the bag where he found it.

The match in his hand started to burn out, but Virgil decided he still had time. The pantry was close, and it would only take him a minute to take some bread, right?

The pantry was stuffed with every kind of food Virgil could imagine- fruits he had never seen before, countless meats wrapped in brown butcher's paper, vegetables in all shapes and sizes, and even different kinds of bread. Why nobles needed so much food while people like Virgil and his mother were starving, he never knew.

Virgil was too busy looking for what would be the most inconspicuous thing to take that he didn't hear the creaking floorboards until it was too late, and the cook was shouting.

"Thief! Thief! Guards, help!" She screeched as Virgil stumbled, trying to get away before he was caught or worse, the light of her lantern too bright on Virgil's face, casting shadows that were no longer comforting.

He tried to run towards the window to escape, but the cook picked up and knife as a pair of guards appeared outside.

"Get the thief!"

More guards seemed to appear every second, some pointing their weapons at Virgil, other moving to grab him, pinning his arms behind his back. The grim reality of what just happened to him sunk in. He was caught, and he would sit in a jail cell until he was sentenced to die, and his mother would either starve or die of her sickness. The guards grabbed the bread from where Virgil dropped it and searched him, taking the stolen coins out of his pockets. Virgil watched as they clattered to the wooden floor, the lantern light glinting off each piece of gold that could have helped his mother but was being used instead to stuff a greedy nobleman's stomach with fine food.

"Please," Virgil whispered, not intending for anyone to hear it, but the guard on his left whispered back.

"Sorry, kid. It's my job."

As the guard dragged him out of the kitchen and away from everything that could have helped his mother, Virgil couldn't seem to breathe. The guardsmens' weapons poked into his back, probably drawing blood that would stain his cloak.

The governor's house looked so different when lanterns were lit throughout the hallways, illuminating his face for the onlookers that had gathered to watch Virgil be paraded out of the house and into a cell.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the governor. His ugly face stared in disdain at Virgil, as if he was no more than mud the governor had spotted on his shoe while the governor's fat mouth sneered at him as Virgil passed.

The next few minutes passed in a blur- Virgil was dragged out of the house and down the road into the jail, which coincidentally, the governor also owned. The only thing Virgil remembered seeing was his mother's face in the crowd that had gathered to watch the apprehend thief.

His mother watched in shock and sadness, her moth-eaten shawl draped around her shoulders.

Virgil wanted to tell her that he was sorry, that he should have been more careful, that he should have listened and stopped stealing from the rich.

Virgil was only shaken from his thoughts when three guards shoved him into a cell and closed the barred door. He lay in a rotting haystack, replaying the minute he had gotten caught over and over again. He hadn't slipped up- his only mistake was not making sure the cook was really asleep before he snuck into the kitchen.

Virgil closed his eyes and drifted off into a dreamless sleep, but not without wondering what would happen to him in the morning.