The wagon had barely pulled up in front of my home when the winds picked up and howled like demonic beasts in the night. The snow bit at my exposed skin as I climbed down, clutching the keys to my only estate. Pausing at the thought, I peered up at the dark windows and the empty rooms exposed by my lantern. With a heavy heart and a sense of resignation at my widowhood, I reflected on the poor living before me that I was left to.
It hadn't mattered to me those five years ago when we wedded that he was twenty years my senior. Now I regret the short time our lives had been graced with. I suppose I was both lucky and unlucky in the fortune of having no children. God knows, I couldn't have put them through this misery. Upon gazing at the two story cottage home, I found that I had indeed been spoiled in my marriage. Not even servants to help me in these harsh wilds.
Alrik had bought this and the surrounding land as a summer home away from Ingolstadt. After the funeral, they gave me this, this dark, lonely place to live. The only thing he ever left me…no, no, no more thoughts of that now. I could not bear the wrenching in my soul for the man I lost. With shaky fingers I pried the door open and stumbled into the musty coolness of the foundation.
Hurrying to bar the door against the snow, I felt a sigh of relief escape. Finally, after a day of travel I was here. The lantern threw sharp shadows on the sheet-covered furniture in the parlor and on the dust particles in the thick air. All else was darkness outside of my lamp.
After setting the lamp down on a dust coated table, I quickly scurried to light all candles available to me, illuminating the shadows. Despite my frozen fingers, a fire bloomed in the grating within moments, flooding warmth and light into the front room. I would sleep here tonight before this fire and reexamine the rest in the morning. Standing up and wiping my fingers upon the folds of my dress, I spotted an oval miniature upon the mantelpiece of Alrik. I felt my heart sink and a shiver from something other than cold run through me upon gazing at the tormenting image before me. My poor, dead Alrik. His dark brown hair streaked with silver even in his thirties. The heavy smile lines around his mouth and the crows feet by his light blue eyes did nothing to extinguish the playful generosity in his countenance. Never before had I known of a gentler man.
Briskly shaking myself free of such things, I reminded myself there were more important things at hand than remembering those gone, such as unloading my belongings and preparing a meager meal. Often in the tragedies of life I found that hard work was the soothing ointment for heartache. With the wind howling and the snow falling like daggers, it would be definite hard work.
In short time, I found the wagon seated by a large house, much larger than any I had beheld before. Before I had witnessed only one or two room hovels that the villagers lived in and those had seemed like palaces to my naïve gaze. Shivering in the cold I carefully approached the one lighted window in the lower right hand side. Watchful to not reveal my presence, I peered in to the captive warmth. A lone woman was within warming her hands by a leaping, crackling fire.
Remembering the pleasant sensations that fire induced, I longed to be with her by the blaze, warming my frozen form. For a few moments I watched her as she gazed about with a saddened, troubled air. Such a look graced the fair folk of the cottage I had stayed by when they spoke of their poverty. How on earth could she have worries of poverty when she lived in such a gargantuan home? Perhaps I am merely illiterate in these things.
The young woman had thick, dark hair the color of acorns drawn up in a bun that reflected a red in the firelight. Only the men I have seen had that shade before and I found it delightful on her despite the worrisome creases between her gentle brows as she frowned. She was richly dressed in a blue bodice and skirts with a thick linen jacket wrapped about her frame. Never before had I seen anyone so extravagant and lovely. Fear made me wary of making my existence known due to my previous, violent and discouraging attempts.
After a moment or two, the woman tied a scarf securely around her head and turned to go outside. Quickly, I sidled around the side of the house, peeking around just enough to see her. Bowing into the vicious, frigid wind, she trudged to the wagon and unloaded a large valise. With much difficulty she hefted it off the wagon's end and hobbled to the front door. It amazed me at how weak she seemed, slipping on the wooden steps of the house, vainly struggling with her luggage.
Once she was inside, I moved to watch her drag it into the dark hallway, panting at the weight. I felt pity for the fragile-seeming woman. No one else seemed to be in the residence to assist her and I brightened at the opportunity. Perhaps persons alone are more reasonable and approachable than in groups. I felt I had to give it one more try at getting through to others before continuing my banishment to the furthest reaches of the world. It was a compelling force that made me both ecstatic and wary. The woman inside sat down to rub her white knuckles at the strain the luggage put on them.
Quickly, I seized the opportunity, remembering how the cottagers had rejoiced at the small gifts I left them and sprang to motion. Running to the wagon before she had a chance to exit her residence, I snatched two of the cases, discovering them lighter than straw and deposited them on her front step, careful to be as silent as I was cautious. Within two trips I cleared out the back of the wagon, along with a curious case I couldn't identify. Fearfully, I went around the house yet again and waited for her to emerge. The noise of the door opening and the sound of her startled, surprised gasp rewarded my ears. Over the past few months I had grown accustomed to hearing and understanding the language of others and within time to speak it as well.
"How on earth did this happen? Be there someone out there in the cold? Hello? Hello?" the woman's voice sounded lilting and lyrical to me on the wind, less accented than the cottagers and the Arabian. Did everyone in this world have such wondrous voices whereas I have but a croak? Silence ensued when I made no move to respond. I heard her shuffle in her luggage before returning to the frigid doorstep. "Sir or ma'am, which ever you might be, I plead you show yourself so I might repay you for your kindness."
I must confess that temptation won over me to an extent.
Upon my request, I heard not a thing from the darkness off my porch. As bewildered as I was and amazed, I found that such a thing was not due to some monster or beast like in the fairytales as some of my peers would have assumed. No superstition would hold sway over me. It t'was but a traveler perhaps that stopped and saw me struggle and took it upon himself to help a lone woman.
The cold chilled the back of my neck as the wind blew harshly there. Perhaps he had left. Turning to go back into the warm retreat of my new home, I heard a voice. Or what resembled a voice, I suppose, for it was rough, harsh and untrained.
"Please, do you have any food and shelter that I might have?" the bodiless voice replied tensely. Was the poor man afraid to face me in this horrid weather? Peering about in the thick veil of night, I tried to see the source.
"Indeed, good sir, I have both that are readily available. Might I see you so that in turn I can shelter you?" I inquired, crying out a bit loudly over the winter wind. Silence prevailed for a moment more. Befuddled and curious, I glanced to my left and spotted a form standing by the end of the house. He was a tall man, inanely so in fact, and he seemed to be dressed in naught but tatters. The face was well hidden under a low cowl from his coat.
"All I request is a haven from the night. Is there a warm place with straw that I might rest?" he asked in that deep, scratchy voice. Heavens above, he sounded as if he hadn't spoken in a decade and with such difficulty. I wondered why he preferred to sleep in the stables but swayed to his wishes than argue. If that was his choosing then I was more than willing to oblige to such a helpful person.
"Sir, if you go around the back there are stables that are out of the wind and warm. I shall bring you dinner accordingly," I instructed as gently as possible to the dark, featureless man that stood out of the lights direct range. A tiny, barely perceptible nod showed that he understood and with a fluidity and suppleness I wouldn't have credited to one his size, turned and left.
Pleased to have something to focus my weary, wandering attention on, I rushed inside to gather a loaf of sweet bread and a hefty chunk of cheese from the wheel I purchased. Along with it, I took a flagon of ice-cooled milk into a satchel along with a sheet from one of chaise chairs in the parlor. Right as I was rushing back out into the weather with my load, I realized quite acutely that my visitor's reluctance to show himself might indicate that he was no more than a highway man or a criminal. Despite the thought, I did not delay in bringing him his repast.
With a lantern, I raced to the stables, unsteady in the snow. The wind had calmed and allowed the flakes to drift in a timeless dance of grace and elegance. The tall, wood doors stood ajar, wafting the scent of dried hay and earth. Pushing first my light into the space, I sought to forewarn the stranger of my entry.
"Dear sir, I come to bring you food and cover. Might I enter?" I entreated softly, no longer hindered by the gale. After another moments pause in which a soft amazement issued, as if he did not expect me to come, he replied in the affirmative.
"Good lady, I bade you enter but I beg you to please not look upon me."
Surprised at the strange request I pushed into the warm barn, eyes averted to the hay strewn floor.
"I have brought bread, cheese and milk. May I ask why I cannot gaze upon my guest?" I asked politely, not wishing to press my curiousness on the man. Once again, he delayed in responding to my question. His apprehension and quiet fear puzzled me. "Are you a convict? Perhaps hiding from the law? I assure you I will not turn to any authorities. There be not a reason for it as far as I have perceived."
"Dear ma'am, I would not wish to frighten you with my deformed appearance. My countenance is not fit for a lady of such an abode," the stranger finally replied, his tone more soft but entreating. "I am no criminal nor have I committed any crimes to humankind."
"Are you to stay for but a night?"
"I must admit that I have no where to go beyond the wilderness," he admitted slowly. I brightened at the possibility of help and company, strange as it might be. I had no relatives nor friends in this part of country and the feeling that this life would be lonely would not abide.
"Stay at your leisure, good sir. I am no heartless being to cast you from the hearth to the cold. I entreat to stay as long as you desire whether in the stables or inside," I finished compliantly, setting down the satchel and the sheet at my feet. I dared not look up lest it frighten him off due to his one request being rebuked.
"I thank you greatly, darling lady, yet I could not encroach upon your step. In the morning, I will depart and no longer darken this place," he said in gentle denial. Nodding my head, I stepped back out the door, still not raising my gaze into the musty dark of the stables.
"If that be your wish. My offer remains should you change your mind."
"Perhaps, fair lady."