Chapter 27: Memories

Elizabeth had been predisposed to generosity upon hearing that a Saxon warrior was in the village. She knew how much they had suffered, especially during the latter part of the war. Her father being a knight of Arthur (she refused to call him by requisite honorific any longer), Elizabeth was well aware of the bloodshed that had been unleashed upon Saxons when the Brittonic forces breached the treaty to leave innocents out of killings. She was also well aware of the role her own father had played in that breach, and being kind to Saxons helped assuage her sense of familial guilt.

Moreover, the village she had adopted as her own was a border village, and many Saxons lived there, or came through. She wanted them to feel welcome, that this land was their own as much as any Briton. She was particularly predisposed to Saxon rumoured to have been sent on a peace-building mission.

A gaggle of young village girls much like herself had glimpsed the warrior before, and were eager to see him again. Elizabeth, who had just finishing tying up bundles of hay, joined the others in taking an unnecessary route back to their huts.

"He's got a stallion the colour of night sky I heard," Elizabeth said.

"Yes, what an odd colouring for a horse," Harriet said. In this village of farmers and boatmen, one hardly ever saw horses of any colour other than brown. Elizabeth, having been at the war front, had seen more than all the women, and most of the men, of the village.

The sound of giggling made Elizabeth's head turn. She was the younger boys, whispering and giggling amongst themselves, jostling forward and then pulling back, only to again run forward and repeat themselves pulling back. She followed their stares, to the Saxon warrior that they were walking behind at a shy distance.

He was tall, taller than most of the men of the village. His face was young, Elizabeth guessed that he would be four years past twenty, or maybe even just three years past twenty. Notwithstanding his age, there was a natural authority about him. His dark hair was worn longer than was Brittonic custom, well beyond his shoulders, tied with some strap. He had swept a dark green cloak over one shoulder, revealing his belt and the handle of his sword.

Suddenly, his eyes were on her and blushing, Elizabeth looked away. She had been so taken with his appearance that she had been staring; she was embarrassed to have been caught.

When she looked up again, the warrior was gone.

Elizabeth was on the way to the river when she saw Fitzwilliam Darcy – that was the Saxon warrior's name – addressing a crowd in the market square. She rolled her eyes. Naturally, she thought to herself, a man that proud needed such an audience for him to find his voice.

She had been so excited when invited to partake in a meal with some of the Elders a day ago; shy but fascinated by the Saxon, she was looking forward to meeting him. Unfortunately, after Elder Morris introduced them, all Darcy did was confirm that she was Sir Bennet's daughter, before sauntering away.

It was clear; she would be shunned for the sins of her father.

Elizabeth was upset.

"Miss Elizabeth."

Elizabeth almost fell over herself at being addressed, and then flushed in annoyance as Darcy chuckled.

"Perhaps I could assist…?"

"I need no assistance; thanks be to you." She gathered the herbs that had spilt back into her basket, and continued her journey.

The Saxon fell into step beside her. Elizabeth bristled, and stayed silent.

"Maiden, you seem disinclined for conversation."

Elizabeth sighed deeply, which was also her only response. She wondered why this man was troubling her, given his obvious earlier disdain.

"Perhaps I have caused offence unbeknownst?"

"I wonder simply why a man of such import such as yourself is speaking with a maiden of no value. I trust there must be an Elder to confer with, or a young boy somewhere to teach as you pass time here."

He bowed and let her walk away; Elizabeth considered herself victorious and yet felt she had somehow lost.

"It is becoming more pleasant climate, maiden, is it not?"

Elizabeth sighed; it seemed that her harsh words from the previous noon had not completely dissuaded the warrior. She shrugged and continued on her way.

"You are of a medicinal bent; I note the herbs you carry. Are you preparing a balm for someone?"

Elizabeth was surprised at Darcy's observation. She didn't think he had noticed. "It is for Mistress Lee; she complains of aches in her back."

"And what concoction are you preparing? Those herbs certainly have a strong aroma to them; what are they?"

"Sir, you are a warrior, a soldier. What possible interest do herbs hold for you?"

"I am a farmer, Miss Elizabeth; one is a warrior out of duty, not choice. I am happier discussing farming practices instead of how to fortify a camp."

"Then why…" she stopped herself midway; he was here to fortify his brethren and also sow peace. The war was over, but it would not quite be over for them for a long time to come.

When she next ran into him while collecting herbs, she was unsurprised, though curious still. Elizabeth decided to be less brusque.

"And who finds themselves ill today?" Darcy asked, falling into step with her.

"No one. Elder Johns is in short supply of ointment, and he asked that I fetch the herbs for him to prepare some."

"Perhaps I can assist you in fetching these herbs?"

"Sir, farmer or warrior, what possible knowledge have you about herbs or medicine?"

"None at all, which is why I am endeavouring to learn."

"Then you should ask Elder Johns to teach you."

Darcy seemed taken aback, but he continued. "Is Elder Johns who taught you? Teaches you?"

"My grandmother and mother taught me, but they are both no more. Elder Johns is very generous with his time and knowledge."

"I am sorry for your loss. The loss of a parent can be unbearable."

"Did you…"

"My father was one of the greatest Saxon warriors to have…he perished in the middle of it all."

"You sound very attached to him. I am sorry too. I hope your memories of him can sustain. My mother and I were never close, and the war claimed her so early, but it is still…it would be nice to have family."

She was surprised to feel Darcy touch her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. She should have been put off, but instead felt solace.

"Miss Elizabeth, your father is a famed knight. I am sure he will return to claim you soonest his duty to Arthur is complete."

She didn't know why she was telling this stranger the secrets of her soul. "My father will never return to claim me. I…I was with his camp always, assisting the wounded, and my younger sister Mary too. She was killed at the Battle of Bracebridge soon after the treaty was breached and…I said dishonourable things to Arthur, to my father, about what they did, what they caused, and I abandoned the war. I have brought dishonour to him and he will never come to claim me. No, the family I seek is my other sisters and uncle; I have sent word to their village, and hope that at least one of them is alive and will come for me here."

"Your father would be a fool to abandon a daughter with more a sense of righteousness than a knight of Arthur. The gods will ensure that you find the family you seek before long."

"I dream of that day."

"Did Elder Johns refuse to teach you about these ways because you are a Saxon warrior?" Elizabeth asked.

Darcy looked at her in confusion. "Why would…"

"Well, Sir, you are always coming to speak to me hereabouts when I am collecting herbs, asking about them. I was at first curious as to why you would be speaking to me so – "

"Can you not imagine?" he interrupted, all astonishment.

Elizabeth smiled. "I couldn't, but then you said you were interested in herbs and ointments, so of course, I understand since that you wish to learn these from me. It is very wrong of Elder Johns to not share our ways with you, when you have been teaching the village many of yours."

Darcy had turned a deep shade of red, and Elizabeth was confused. He made a low bow. "I apologise Miss Elizabeth, but I recalled just now that there is a matter I was to attend to. Good day," Darcy said, as he abruptly turned and left.

Elizabeth didn't see him again for many days.

She found herself missing his company.

It had started with Harriet and some of the other girls. When Elizabeth returned from meeting Elder Johns, some of the girls corralled around her. They teased and teased her, wanting to know where her 'admirer' was. Elizabeth did not comprehend their meaning first, until it finally dawned on her that they speaking of Darcy. The girls abused her stupidity, and surmised that a handsome young warrior was unlikely to be interested in so clueless a girl.

Elizabeth denied admiration on either of their parts, insisting that it was naught but a mutual interest in herbs.

The girls only laughed louder.

The sky was bright and blue, and a lovely breeze ran through her hair. Nevertheless, Elizabeth was frustrated. She had been thwarted repeatedly now.

As much she denied holding admiration for the Saxon warrior, she found herself eager for his company, and disappointed when he stopped seeking her out. She was at long last forced to admit that there was admiration, at least on her part. Perhaps even his, until she chased it away with foolish talk of herbs.

Three times now she had gone up to him, to try and start speak. Three times she had failed. She was forced to conclude as the other girls had done: a handsome young warrior was certainly not interested in so clueless a girl.

With all these whirling in her head, she had set out too-early in the morning. She had stumbled on top of the hill, and the bucket she had borrowed from Harriet had fallen into the thicket below, just at the edge of the forest.

Now, her hair mussed and clothes dirty, she stood by the road, waiting for some passer-by to assist after her own efforts had failed. With her luck, it was none other than Darcy who was the singular traveller to come riding by. Cursing her bad luck, she waved him down.

"Good day, Miss. Are you in need of some assistance?" Darcy said, climbing off his horse.

She nodded, somewhat shame-faced. "I…yes. I lost a bucket…something borrowed, and I cannot return without. The thicket is too dense, if someone could help in holding it up, I would be able to crawl underneath to search for the lost item."

Darcy looked at the thicket, and then back at her. "It seems much too dense for the purpose. Is this a golden bucket, that requires retrieval by such extreme means?"

Elizabeth bristled. "It is borrowed, from a family with little means. They cannot go without, and I would have to give them the only one I have, which I would rather not. If you cannot help me, I shall wait for the next person to come by."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "I didn't know this road was so frequented; I was told that it was only used when the other was under water. How did you even make it this far down?"

Elizabeth blushed to the roots of her hair. "I tumbled some ways atop the hill, shortly after the bucket. It ended up under the thicket while I mercifully did not, though perhaps it may have made the retrieval easier."

Darcy laughed from deep inside, his surly mien of the last several days finally disappearing. Elizabeth found that she had missed the sound of his laugh.

"After that story, I believe that it is my duty to assist."

The bucket long been found, the two of them were still peering into the undergrowth. Elizabeth had begun feigning interest in the plants nearby to extend their time together; she did not contemplate Darcy's motives.

Darcy was crouching down in front of her, one knee pressed into the ground. She parted the undergrowth with her hands. She was bold enough to move down beside him. Their elbows touched, and it was a good feeling. They smiled, argued, and teased each other all the while.

Darcy began laughing at something she said, his body shaking, their shoulders now touching. Such a beautiful sound, and soon she was laughing along side.

"You are truly evil Sir, making me laugh at myself."

"My most sincere apologies, maiden," Darcy said, still laughing. "How can I make up for my ill-manners? I am at your service."

"What would a soldier like you know about serving a humble farm girl like me?" she teased, joyful that their banter had returned.

"Princess, I certainly think I know as much as farming as you know about flowers," Darcy had said. "Besides which, I was raised a farmer as well as a soldier."

"Princess?" she had asked questioningly.

"The way you have been commanding me about, how can you be anything but a princess, and I your humble servant?"

"I then command that you help me pick the berries that I rose so early today to find, though it must be close to noon by now."

"As you wish. Miss Elizabeth, you need not call me 'sir'. I hope that we are past such formalities."

"Oh…I then hope that this means that you have forgiven a silly young girl for her…her…" Elizabeth looked down embarrassed, though she had been the one to raise the topic.

"Her innocence?" Darcy supplied. "There is nothing to forgive. I should have been clear about my intentions." Elizabeth blushed furiously, and Darcy continued to speak. "I...perhaps I should do so now. I…I have been bewitched by your captivating eyes; you are the most beautiful maiden I have ever met. I was…I was cold to you because of who your father is, which was wrong of me, but it wasn't long after that I could not help seek you out. I wished to get to know you better, and the more I did…after your comment, I had thought my attentions to be unwelcome…"

"It was never unwelcome. It was in fact missed. I would say that such attentions would actually be most welcome."