A/N: This chapter wasn't the one I was expecting to write. It's set the same evening as the day when Georg and Maria speak to the RM about getting married quickly. Maria's Festival performance will be the next day.
ooooOOOOoooo
Chapter 23: The Song of Solomon
When I found him whom my soul loves
I held him, and would not let him go.
(Song of Solomon/ Song of Songs, Old Testament)
"I don't believe it! You actually convinced the Reverend Mother to allow you to marry in a week? That's unheard of!" Max spluttered in astonishment to Georg, as they sat in the library having a nightcap.
The children were in bed and Maria was using the telephone in the study. Max lovingly cradled a snifter of Georg's most expensive cognac as he spoke, stopping to breathe in the luxurious aroma of vanilla, cinnamon and rich exotic fruits as if it were ambrosia.
Georg shrugged, pretending nonchalance, but inside exhilaration battled with incredulity that he and Maria would be married soon.
"I suspect it was mainly because we convinced her the children need a mother now, with the future so uncertain. And also because she loves Maria so dearly. But it was a close thing. I really thought she would refuse us." He paused, admitting, "But she did set conditions."
"Oh? Do tell." Sensing a tasty anecdote, Max pounced eagerly. "I want to hear every teensy detail."
When Georg told him, he roared with laughter. "Oh this is priceless! You are going to be instructed on marriage by Sister Berthe? Can I come too? I would love to have a ringside seat."
Georg glowered, "Max, you are skating very close to being sacrilegious."
But Max was unable to resist poking fun at Georg. "Maria has told me all about this Sister Berthe, apparently she's quite intimidating. If she has any idea of the lascivious thoughts going through your head about Maria, she will have you kissing the floor every few minutes," he chortled.
"Max, be quiet," Georg said irritably. "My thoughts about Maria are none of your damn business."
But Max was having far too much fun. "And going to Confession twice in a week! Clearly our dear Reverend Mother seems to realize what sort of man you are."
Georg sent Max a menacing look, which didn't even penetrate.
"When was the last time you went to Confession Georg? It must be years. Maybe you should tell the poor priest to slot in a whole day, or even a week."
"Very funny Max, but I haven't been that much of a reprobate."
Georg stared into his drink, lost in thought. "It has been a long time," he muttered. "But there's nothing I wouldn't do for Maria. She is sacrificing everything for me."
Max was suddenly serious. "Georg, you can still change your mind about staying. Don't do this to Maria and the children."
"I can't Max. If I had refused to fight in the Great War and stayed home with Agathe, I would have been court-martialed and shot for dereliction of duty. A soldier's job is to stand between good and evil and protect their nation. How can I just flee like a coward when it is being attacked? I can't shirk my duty."
Max sighed heavily. "Well just don't get yourself killed then."
Georg snorted. "Thank you Max, I'll try to remember that. I can always count on you for sage advice," he said dryly.
Max grinned. "You're welcome," he said generously, as if he had just imparted great wisdom.
Never one to be serious for long, he inhaled the aroma of his drink again. "You know, this cognac is extraordinary. Perhaps you should buy me case as a wedding present," he suggested hopefully.
Georg rolled his eyes. "I believe it is you who is supposed to buy us a wedding present," he pointed out sardonically. "But that might actually require you to earn some money first. I have no doubt that I will be paying for my own wedding present from you."
"Ah-ha, but you forget that it is only thanks to me that you find yourself in this delightful position of marrying this adorable creature, who, I might add, is far too good for you. If I hadn't forced you to confront your feelings, you would still be deceiving yourself, wallowing in misery," Max reminded him smugly.
"Hmm, I'm never going to hear the end of that one am I?"
"Absolutely! You owe me. You can start by naming your first born with Maria after me: Maximillian or Maxima von Trapp. It has a fabulous ring to it, don't you think?"
Georg muttered something uncomplimentary. But inside, he hid the shock at the primitive surge of masculine satisfaction at the thought of Maria carrying his child. It was ridiculous of course, he already had seven children. But a disconcerting, primal instinct tugged at him at the thought of his baby nestled in her belly. Fortunately Max interrupted his thoughts.
"When are you going to tell the children you're getting married?"
"We decided to wait until after the Festival tomorrow. They already have enough excitement to deal with. A day won't make any difference." Remembering their behaviour at the dinner table he added wryly, "I suspect they know something is up though."
His heart leapt as Maria peeked around the door. Did she have any idea that the merest glance from her could ignite the burning need in him so easily?
He smiled tenderly. "Join us for a drink, darling."
"Yes come in my dear. I want to congratulate you on your forthcoming nuptials in a week," Max said jubilantly
Maria thanked him. "It's all a bit hard to believe. Sometimes I think I must be dreaming," she confessed.
She turned to Georg. "I called Eliza to ask her to the wedding."
"What did she say?" Georg asked indulgently.
"Well, for the first few minutes I had to hold the phone away from my ear because she was shrieking so loudly with happiness. After that I got a lot of 'I told you so's.' Then she burst into tears and she said she wouldn't miss the wedding for the world. Bless her heart, she said she saved up her money to buy a ticket for the Festival tomorrow."
"Ah yes, your performance," Max interrupted happily. "It's already the talk of the Festival. Word has spread like wildfire after your spectacular performance at the Ball. Your event is being eagerly anticipated."
"Oh! That sounds frightening." Maria bit her lip anxiously. "I hope I can live up to people's expectations."
"Not to worry my dear. You will be magnificent."
"Max, I wanted to thank you for everything, for teaching me music, and for being so kind to me. I hope I don't let you down tomorrow."
Before Max could reply she continued softly. "I was wondering if you would consider giving me away next week?"
There was a shocked silence. For once the usually ebullient Max was speechless.
"Good grief, I think you have finally silenced him darling," Georg said with amusement. "I can hardly recognize him with his mouth shut."
When Max still seemed unable to say anything Georg added wryly, "I suppose that means I have lost my best man."
Max took her hands, moved by her request. "My dear, I would be honoured."
Maria hugged him, full of emotion too. He was such a dear sweet man, even though he pretended not to be.
Max gathered himself together and then announced that this called for another drink, though Maria refused his offer, as she sat in a chair near Georg.
"You know it's hard to believe that Georg was able to turn around his misbehaviour at the ball so well that you agreed to marry him," Max declared buoyantly as he poured himself a generous portion.
"Thank you for reminding us of that Max," Georg replied moodily. His guilt made him shift uncomfortably.
Maria looked at him and murmured quietly, only for his ears, "Actually I did mean to ask you about that - why you were you so angry at the ball." The dreadful hurt had long since vanished with all the love Georg had lavished on her. But she was still curious to find out more about this complex man who was to be her husband.
Georg cleared his throat. "Please don't ask me about that blasted dance. Anyway the reason no longer exists," he evaded.
She stared at him. "I don't even know what that means."
"I've already apologised for my behaviour at the ball, why don't we just leave it at that Maria," he blustered.
Max came over to refill Georg's glass, catching part of their murmured conversation. "Hah, you mean you haven't told her why you were so beastly at the ball? You really should explain Georg. After all your behaviour was abominable."
Georg glared at him. "Mind your own damn business. Do go away, won't you?" he suggested acidly.
"For once I'm glad to oblige. I'll give you ten minutes alone to explain everything." Max chuckled as he left the room.
Georg avoided her gaze when they were alone, pulling uncomfortably at his collar. Taking courage, Maria moved to sit on his lap. One of his arms snaked around her, holding her to him, but other stayed on the armrest, still holding his cognac snifter. She studied his face, wondering whether she would ever get used to his heart-stopping handsomeness.
"Darling please, I want to know. I need to know what it is that triggers your anger."
She stroked his face and kissed him softly. Her senses immediately flared at the heady scent of him. His mouth tasted of something deliciously exotic: rich, mellow and smoky. It must be whatever he was drinking, or perhaps it was that, combined with his own unique tantalising scent.
He sighed regretfully. "I wasn't angry with you. I behaved like an unconscionable oaf because I was …" he muttered something indecipherable.
Maria leaned in closer to hear, curious about how defensive he seemed.
"Well, alright, alright! I was… jealous!" he admitted, almost petulantly.
Maria stared at him, trying to make sense of it. "Jealous?" she echoed. Surely not of her singing?
But then he bit out, "All those blasted young men wanting to fawn all over you after they heard you sing. Impudent young whelps! Rakes and cads and predators - the lot of them. It enraged me. And that damned prince – the way you were dancing with him, as if you were enraptured. You had no idea how ravishingly lovely you were, so alluring, so delightful."
Maria listened in astonishment, never having dreamed his anger could be because of something like that. But she certainly recognized his set, furious face from the ball.
"Everyone was enchanted by you. It was infuriating. I couldn't stand it. I didn't want anyone near you. Even though I couldn't admit it to myself then, I wanted you only for myself. You were mine. You are mine." His tone was rough, possessive.
Maria leaned her forehead against his. "Yes, yours. Forever," she whispered softly. "I wasn't interested in any of those men at the ball. They made me feel uneasy. I spent all evening avoiding them. The only man I wanted to be with, to dance with, was you. As for Prince Ferdinand, he was just being kind, trying to put me at ease. He was telling me amusing stories about his son. That's what made me laugh. I desperately wanted to dance with you, but you were suddenly so distant, so cold. I thought I had angered you somehow."
She added with remembered humiliation "Or that you had guessed at my love for you and you were trying to scare me off."
"Oh my love," he murmured remorsefully, placing an achingly tender kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry. I'm an imbecile. Forgive me?"
Maria kissed him back as an answer, this time allowing herself to revel in the heavenly taste of his mouth as the kiss deepened. She vaguely heard the thunk as the brandy glass fell from his hand to the rug. Then both of his arms were around her, his breath becoming ragged. Her fingers were entwined in the luxuriant thickness of his hair. Would she never tire of this, she wondered hazily.
"Maria, do you have any idea what you do to me," he murmured, his voice heavy with desire, as he nuzzled her neck.
"Erhm." Max interrupted loudly from the doorway. Maria immediately leapt off Georg's lap like a scalded cat, horrified at being caught in a kiss.
But Georg just looked infuriated. "Max, you timing is, as always, abysmal," he snarled.
"On the contrary, I think my timing is just perfect. After all, we wouldn't want you to have to confess to more than you already have to, now would we," he asked Georg with tormenting amusement.
Maria murmured a good night, her cheeks flushed with acute embarrassment, unable to look at either of them as she left, even though Georg tried to snare her with his eyes.
"Really Georg, this is outrageous," Max complained after she left. "How could you let this happen?"
"It was just a blasted kiss, Max," Georg snapped, still annoyed at being interrupted.
"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the tragic waste of this 50 year old Cognac. Do you know how much this costs? It's positively criminal." He picked up the empty snifter and gazed mournfully at the stain soaking into the Persian rug.
Georg rolled his eyes. "Good night Max. I'm going for a walk".
ooooOOOOoooo
Maria lay in bed unable to sleep, still mortified that she had been so lost in their kiss that Max had found them that way. It was starting to frighten her – the power of this yearning, the gnawing hunger, the desperate craving she felt to kiss and caress and explore and touch this man whom she loved so intensely. Ever since that first chaste brush of his mouth against hers when he declared his love, it felt as if an unstoppable force was growing, slowly at first, but gathering momentum and ferocity. It was like a tidal wave feeding off a placid sea, until it was ready to unleash its power and crash down upon her, overwhelming her.
She remembered the achingly wonderful kisses this evening, when they met secretly in the stables before dinner. With the fragrant, earthy scent of straw surrounding them, his caresses had tormented and delighted her, leaving her eager for more. It had thrilled her that it took a supreme effort on his part to drag himself away and go back into the house to the children.
This must be lust. She cringed. The word itself seemed to be soaked in sin. Lust was definitely one of the seven deadly sins, she had learned that in the Abbey. It must be wrong to feel this way but she couldn't seem to stop it. The worst thing was its rapacious power to make her forget everything she had learned from the Bible about mortal sin. It even made what was previously unthinkable – disobeying the Reverend Mother and giving in to temptation – seem like a possibility.
She lay there, conflicted, deeply troubled by the different directions she was being torn in. There was no-one she felt she could talk to about it. She would die of shame admitting this to the Reverend Mother or any of the Sisters, and she felt abashed about confessing her thoughts to Father Wassner, though she would have to.
Was God testing her faith in Him? The Bible was full of examples of God testing the devoted. Would she fail the test? She only had to wait a week until they were married, so why did that seem like an eternity?
More than that, she didn't know whether, even in marriage, it was right and decent to feel this ferocious need. Did high-born ladies feel this raw, frantic desire, and if they did, did they hide it so their husbands wouldn't think less of them? She had no idea if baronesses behaved with such wanton abandon. The only baroness she knew was Baroness Schraeder, and she had always exuded an icy elegance. But perhaps in private she behaved differently.
Maria brought her thoughts to a compulsive stop. She realised with a sickening jolt that she really didn't want to think about what her fiancé and Baroness Schraeder might have done together in private.
The knock on her door was so faint, Maria wondered if she had imagined it, but then it came again. Startled, she sat up abruptly. It was the middle of the night. Was her beloved Captain coming to her in the night? Her whole body clenched with anticipation and excitement and worry. The unrelenting passion between them seemed to hurl them both beyond the boundaries of restraint every time they were together. Her mind was in chaos, unable to form a coherent thought. Should she open the door? Should she refuse him even though she desperately wanted to be with him? If she took this night, would the Reverend Mother forgive her for her weakness? Would God?
She tentatively opened the door, heart pounding. Unsure whether to be deeply disappointed or relieved, she saw it was Max.
"Maria, I hate to wake you. Georg went for a long walk and when he came back it was clear he had worked himself up into one of his terrible moods. He really is his own worst enemy, the way he stews over everything and let's himself become beset by demons."
Max sighed, "I couldn't get much out of him but he growled something about delaying the wedding. I'm worried he has done something stupid like talked himself out of getting married next week."
Maria's heart sank as Max continued.
"With anyone else I would suggest waiting until morning, but knowing him, knowing how his obstinacy sets like concrete, and knowing how inflexible he is when he is fixed on something, I really think you should talk to him now. By morning it may be too late to change his mind."
Maria nodded anxiously. "Of course." She hurried out, but Max stopped her.
"Er perhaps you should change into your day clothes first," he suggested tactfully. "You know how irresistible he finds you. Don't spend too long with him. It's already very late," he trailed off.
Maria blushed hotly. Her nightgown was hardly alluring but still, it would be more appropriate to speak to him fully dressed.
She found Georg in an upstairs drawing room. The balcony doors were thrown open to the quiet night and she could see him facing the lake. She switched off the light and he glanced back at her in surprise. Even in the moonlight she could see his eyes were bleak, his face dark and unfathomable, his jaw rigid.
"I thought I just might find you here," she said softly.
"Did Max wake you? He shouldn't have," he spoke in a low voice, aware of how sound carried through the stillness of the night.
She could see by the stance of his body that he was tense, suppressing fierce emotions. Her heart hurt with loving him. She was finally starting to understand this complicated man and the desolate moods that could sweep down on him from nowhere. She was no longer surprised about the way he could change from teasing and laughter to tenderness and fierce passion then to sudden anger and grim introspection. But with the Anschluss so close and all his worries about the children, perhaps it wasn't so surprising how rapidly his mind churned.
She touched his arm as he stared, unseeingly, into the darkness. "What is it?" she whispered anxiously. "Is it about the Anschluss?"
"No, it's not that." He finally turned towards her and looked at her broodingly for a while, his mouth a tight slant. She reached up to smooth it gently. Georg took her hand and pressed a soft kiss into her palm. It sent splintering shards of desire shooting through her whole body. But then he deliberately stepped away from her again, and turned back to the balcony balustrade, leaving her feeling bereft.
"Maria," his tone was quiet but she could hear the harsh determination in it.
"I've been thinking about what the Reverend Mother said today. She was right about many things. Perhaps we don't know each other as well as we should. When two people talk of marriage they should know each other a lot better than we do. We really are very different; as different as night and day. The more I think about it, I am much more like Hades to your Persephone," he said darkly.
He wouldn't look at her as Maria shook her head, protesting, "No that's not true."
"And she was right about something else too." He sounded driven. "My ceaseless hunger for you is clouding my judgement."
Maria felt her belly lurch. Max was right: Georg was reconsidering their hasty marriage.
He continued in the same unyielding tone, shutting her out, his patrician profile etched in somber lines.
"I feel like I am rushing you into this marriage before you have a chance to see me as I really am. We have been focusing only on the present, on finding our way through this hellish labyrinth. Thinking of the future is a luxury we don't have right now. But what if we get through all this, and in time you find that you are saddled with a melancholic, surly old husband who is incapable of seeing the beauty and grace in every soul, the way you do?"
"But-"
He held up his hand to silence her as he continued remorselessly.
"What happens when you realise you are married to a deeply pessimistic man, prone to black moods and a raging temper; a man who can dim the sun for you and is capable of crushing your optimism and spirit, and dragging your soul down. A man who is jealous and possessive and demanding. A man who struggles to find the goodness in the world the way you do?"
"Oh darling –"
"No, wait Maria, hear me out. There are things you need to know about me. The most important thing, for you at least, is that you should know my faith barely exists. I am not sure if I believe in anything anymore."
He paused, looking up at the sky, his memories bleak. "The last time I set foot in a church was at Agathe's funeral. I was full of rage and bitterness that she was so cruelly taken away from me and the children. I turned my back on the Church and God, just as I turned my back on everything else."
His mouth remained in that uncompromising slant. "Your devotion to God is a vital part of who you are. Knowing all this, how can you think of marrying a man like me."
Maria looked at him with eyes brimming with love, imaging the terrible abyss of loneliness and desolation that he had stumbled into when he lost his cherished wife. Maria could understand that since she herself had felt anguish whenever she thought about losing him.
Even though the euphoria of being love and preparing for the wedding kept the fears about the future at bay, it was always there lurking, quiescent, ready to pounce at any unguarded moment. Only this evening as she prepared for bed, an unexpected, agonizing spasm of fear had doubled her over, making her gasp and clutch her belly. It was only kneeling by her bed, in long moments of prayer, that the wretchedness had eased.
She could understand why he had built a wall around himself, shoring up his defenses against a pain that was too much to bear. No wonder he had questioned everything and had had doubts.
She spoke gently. "I guessed that about you, already, that your beliefs have faltered. It doesn't surprise me or make me love you any less. How could it? It's part of who you are and what you have been through."
When he still wouldn't turn to her she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. She pressed her cheek lovingly to his back, glorying in the lean strength of his body that she could feel through the brushed velvet of his smoking jacket; reveling in the knowledge that it was her right to touch him like this and offer him love and comfort.
"I fell in love with a man who has imperfections, just as you claim that you love me despite knowing my flaws. They are a part of you, and I value them as much as the goodness in you. The man I adore is strong and brave, and fiercely protective and loyal to those he loves. He has honour and integrity and principles which enable him to tower above other men. He is capable of great depths of love."
Her words were met with silence. She could tell he was warring with himself.
"Darling, even if you have doubts, I have faith enough for both of us, just as you have enough courage for both of us."
He remained quiet for some time then she felt his sigh through his back.
"Maria, I don't want you to ever have regrets about rushing into marriage with me. You are so young. You have the world at your feet – your singing alone could give you undreamed of opportunities. Your whole perspective may change when you sing at the Festival tomorrow."
Maria stepped away from his back. Despite the rigid way he held the balustrade with stiff arms, she slipped under one unyielding arm to hug him from the front. After a long hesitation she felt him move to accommodate her. His arms reluctantly wrapped themselves around her and then a hand came up to caress her hair.
"I could never have regrets about marrying you. This is the life I was born to live. It's God's will. My singing brings me happiness, but knowing how much you treasure it is what gives me joy. I am really only doing the Festival for Max because he has been so kind, teaching me."
She continued as he still looked burdened. "The Reverend Mother spoke of marriage as a journey. Who knows where it will take us? But the important thing is that we are together. Honestly, the thought of us squabbling over our differences in the future fills my heart with gladness. God willing we will have many long years together to spar and tease and torment each other." She tried to draw a smile out of him, but he still looked remote.
When words didn't seem to persuade him, she just held him tightly, hoping to transmit her love and need through touch. Gradually, ever so slowly, she could feel the tension in him ease then ebb away. She felt the relief, the sweet elation that comes with getting through a crisis, more deeply connected than before, with a love stronger and more resilient. The moment of tender understanding felt so pure, so perfect, she felt as if their souls had touched.
She sighed, contentedly. She lifted her head hoping for a kiss and was disappointed at the restrained brush of his mouth. But at least she could see that the turmoil had disappeared from his eyes. It warmed her to know she had been able to bring him back from the dark place where he had retreated.
He smiled regretfully at her disappointment. "Maria, I have such little control with you I am not going to kiss you properly, because I know I won't be able to stop. We made promises to your Reverend Mother." He tapped her nose playfully.
Maria's eyes became shadowed as she remembered her own disquiet from earlier. It was her turn to feel burdened with worries. She dropped her eyes.
He noticed. "What is it?"
Maria felt too embarassed to tell him.
"Tell me, Maria." Although the tone was quiet it still sounded like an order. Maria almost smiled. Humility would never sit well with him. He would always find it hard to soften his demands into requests. He was too used to being in command.
She hesitated, but then remembered he had trusted her with his own worries and vulnerabilities. She knew he was a deeply private man, and proud too, it must have cost him a lot to admit to his jealousy earlier. She took a deep breath.
"It's just that I worry about the strength of my feelings, my desire. For you. I've never felt anything like this before, and it seems to be growing out of control. It feels wrong somehow, to be so…" she forced the word out through the shame. "To be so lustful. The power of it frightens me. It's like a craving that just seems to get stronger. I feel so guilty. In the Bible, lust is very clearly one of the seven deadly sins."
If it hadn't been for the light of love burning in his eyes she would have hidden her face in mortification. He looked at her tenderly for long moments, bringing her hands up clasped in both of his, to kiss them.
"Ah but that's where you are wrong my darling. Let me assure there can be no sin between a man and his wife. No shame, no guilt, not lust, just pure joy and unbridled rapture. And I have that from an impeccable source, from the highest authority."
She looked puzzled.
"Let me explain, but first turn around."
"What?" she asked, perplexed.
"Turn." He made a circular movement with his fingers.
When she remained motionless with confusion, he explained patiently. "Turn around so I am not distracted and tempted by that delectable mouth. The way I feel right now, it wouldn't take much for me to end up ravishing you right here in the moonlight, under a sky full of stars. So I am not going to touch you, but you just have to listen."
Maria felt the her blood pulse fiercely as the mood shifted from one of tender communion to passion. She faced the lake, and although he was behind her, she was quivering with his presence. She gripped the balustrade tightly as his arms came around either side of her, holding the balustrade too, not touching her, but encircling her in his domain. It felt possessive and deeply exciting, as if she were in his power.
She swallowed hard. Her whole body felt acutely aware of him. The sensitive nape of her neck was alive with sensation, almost painfully so. Every one of the soft hairs stood on end at his nearness and she had to fight the urge to hunch her neck in agonized anticipation, desperate for his touch.
"Now, I've got a quote for you. It should be easy." His voice was a low baritone, so close to her ear that she shivered with the enthralling throb of it.
"Let me see," he paused thoughtfully. "I can't remember all the verses but I have enough fragments of it for you to get the sense of it." He started: "How beautiful you are my darling…."
He waited for Maria recognize the phrase, but Maria was unable to think. She was hopelessly lost in exquisite sensation, aware only of the waft of his warm breath near her ear and the rich, deep rumble of his murmur, husky with desire.
"No? What about this: "Let us lie together on a soft bed of grass…."
Maria closed her eyes at the enticing image of lying entwined with her beloved captain in a meadow somewhere. She shook her head wordlessly, unable to recognize the quotes. She clutched the balustrade, grateful for the coolness of the stone against her overheated palms.
His voice continued, silken and seductive, inflaming her.
"Who is this young woman who cometh like the dawn, as pure as the moon and radiant as the sun, as majestic as the stars in procession?"
Maria felt stunned by the beauty of the words. Her breaths were coming in short gasps. She found helplessly that the more she tried to control her breathing the less control she had over it. How could he make her dissolve in sensation like this without even touching her?
"What about this: "Your love is more delightful than wine…""
Maria shook her head mutely, her senses burning fiercely.
He smirked triumphantly, though his own breath was tellingly ragged. "Do you mean to tell me you don't know those quotes? Have I finally bested you? And it's from the Bible too!"
"Oh well, I .. .What? The Bible? That can't be." Maria murmured, struggling to concentrate. She tried to rally indignantly but she only managed to sound weak and breathless with longing. "I'm sure you're wrong. I don't know what type of Bible you've been reading, but there's nothing like that in there."
He tutted teasingly, "Tsk, tsk, tsk," shaking his head, a wicked taunt to his tone. But she could also hear the rough rasp of his own need.
"Isn't there? Are you sure Maria? Even though I am practically a heathen, I can appreciate the poetic beauty of the verses; the sublime sensuality of the words. And this particular section is my favourite passage in the Bible. It has exquisite allusions to the desire between a man and woman, and the profound joy of their union. You should know my darling, that according to the Bible, God intended that a married couple should experience the ecstasy of physical love, as a gift that He has bestowed on humanity."
This overpowering desire was what God intended? Surely not? It wasn't sinful? Maria struggled to understand through the sweet torture of yearning for his touch, as his voice continuing to weave its sensuous spell around her.
"Strengthen me with raisins, refresh me with apples, for I am faint with love."
Maria squeezed her eyes shut with fevered longing, not sure whether to beg him to stop or beg him to continue.
"The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me."
She was vaguely aware that he was affected too, it was there in the harsh drag of his breath and scorching heat she could feel emanating from his body. If she had looked to his hands beside her she might have seen that his knuckles were white from the grip he had on the balustrade. But her own mind and body were too lost in bewildered sensation to wonder at the iron control he must be exerting not to touch her.
The soft whispers continued, sending shivers through her body, the ache deep inside her becoming unbearable. She desperately wanted to lean back against him but some instinct stopped her, knowing that if they touched they would both be unable to hold back the rampaging desire and stop.
"Come my beloved, let us go to the meadow
Let's spend the night among the henna blossoms
Let's go early to the vineyards
to see if the vine has budded
If the blossoms have opened
If the pomegranates are in bloom
There I will give you my love"
Finally he stopped and released her from the invisible bonds which held her in his thrall. He removed his hands surrounding her, stepping further back. She sagged, leaning on the balustrade, trembling, but didn't turn, trying to bank down the flames of desire he had whipped up so easily. But her face was also a picture of wondrous revelation that the passion she felt was something to rejoice in and should not be hidden shamefully from her future husband.
For a while they both struggled to regain control of their erratic breathing.
"I can't remember much more of the verses." He finally revealed its source. "It's from the Song of Solomon."
Maria's mind cleared slightly from the fog of desire. Of course, the Song of Solomon! She knew it was used in the Feast Day for Mary Magdalene but she had never really paid too much attention to the words. Since she had been expecting to live a life of chastity, the fevered yearning between a man and woman had seemed remote and uninteresting to her. But now, every word seemed to resonate with her love for her Captain, the verses redolent with her own longing.
That voice came again, pouring low behind her, thick with passion. "Now, as much as I wish it were otherwise you need to go back to bed. But just remember that in one week's time you will be mine, and together we will make our own little piece of heaven on earth. I promise you that."
Her heart clenched. She turned back to look at him. He had that curious stillness he was capable of, contrasting with her own restless energy. But his hands were clenched into fists and his eyes blazed with fierce hunger which gave away the rigid control he was exerting on himself.
Almost in a daze she found her way to her room and lay on the bed, still wrapped in the delicate beauty of the verses.
For the second time that night she was unable to sleep. This time her mind was full of yearning rather than worries. But she understood at last that her desires, intense as they were for her Captain, were perfect and beautiful, in just the way that God had intended she should love her husband. They were not a sin, rather they should be cherished as a gift of Divine Grace.
She should have recognized the Song of Solomon. One of her favourite composers, the Renaissance genius Giovanni da Palestrina had used parts of the Song of Solomon for his Canticum Canticorum. A few fragments from the motets came back to her, "You have ravished my heart", and "my soul is athirst." More potently still: "My beloved is mine, as I am his."
She got out of bed, too enraptured by the epiphany to sleep, and looked for her copy of the Old Testament. She found the section containing the Song. Almost furtively, as if she were reading a racy novel, she poured through the verses, captivated by the artistry of the words.
She joyfully read the descriptions of the way the man and woman take such delight in the beauty of the other's body. The words were not crude depictions, but rather clothed modestly, elegantly, with lush images taken from nature. There were subtle hints too, of acts of love she couldn't conceive of.
The words reached across the centuries from when they had been written, moving her unbearably. Tears gathered in her eyes, unshed, as the verses spoke profoundly of the power of love. It rivals the mortal enemy of death, since even death cannot defeat love's strength; it burns with an intensity of blazing fire; and it is unquenchable even by the ocean's depths. Nor can wealth ever purchase love.
With her heart swollen with happiness, a single teardrop splashed onto the page and soaked into the thin, crisp paper.
Finally she could feel the lassitude creeping over her, sleep reaching out to entwine her in its embrace. She closed her eyes, feeling the peace in her soul. Deliberately, she brought to mind the sensuous images, so lusciously portrayed, about the beauty of love. She hoped that they would seep into her dreams of her Captain.
And they did.
ooooOOOOoooo
AN: The Jewish and Christian interpretations of the Song of Solomon are different. In the Jewish tradition it is taken allegorically, whereas in the Christian tradition it is taken literally. I have used the Christian interpretation here, which sees the Song as illustrating the conjugal bliss of marriage. It is interpreted as a celebration of a couple's physical intimacy and the consummation of their love, which is seen as a blessing by God.
Thank you for reading. I would love to know your thoughts.