Belle
I was just a lad when I ran away from home to fight in the Crusades.
I was a man when I came home.
Not only because I'd grown a full foot and more - but because of the things I'd seen. It wasn't so much the service of God that drew me to join the fight against the Saracens, it was the wanting to leave the narrow confines of my home - the impenetrable dark forest that bordered me on every side and made me feel my whole world was trunks and branches and leaves...
Yet in seeing the world beyond, and in learning just little enough of it to understand that I knew nothing, I wanted the constancy and surety of those very trees. Outside and away was bewildering - noises and spaces and foreign tongues and food so wild it hurled itself from my body within an hour of having eaten it.
I had left the home of my father, a woodcutter, and walked to the nearest town, and from thence had walked to another town, all to offer myself humbly in the fight for the Lord, and for the Way.
I found many others like me, with fire in their hearts and eyes, and we converged upon seaports in our hundreds. During our long voyage we confessed all our secrets to one another - not that they amounted to much.
"I once kissed a maid, behind a haystack whilst her father was tending to the chickens."
"I once broke into a storeroom and stole a full jug of mead, and after I had finished it I fell headfirst into pig's muck."
Believe me, these admissions pale to innocence after what I have seen, and experienced. None of those companions I met on the ship have lived to return with me. Ends are met in the unChristian lands over the sea, and we can do naught but pray for deliverance and clemency, and to hope that the Lord acknowledges we fought in His name, for His glory.
A poisoned arrow struck me during an encounter with the army of the Caliphate, and it was allowed that even if I recovered sufficiently to ever walk, I would still have not much further use as a soldier, and thus was left to my own devices, to find my way home if I might.
Having a yearning for the green of England, and not to have my spirit wander in eternity over a foreign landscape, I determined that I should recover sufficiently to make my way back to Albion.
Due in part to my own fortitude, and also to the kindness of strangers, I arrived at last at a port in the Kingdom of France from which I could embark upon a voyage home to my motherland.
And though I have much to tell from my time abroad, of war and suffering, courage and carnage, the tale I will now tell you arises from an encounter on my journey once having set foot back in merrie England, land of my birth and heart.
It is many miles across the very south east of this land, where the cliffs shine white on a clear day and look like the giant cloudy tops of waves when the sky is overcast. It is many miles again to my leafy and quiet home, perhaps halfway up this wooded isle, perhaps more. I was in no hurry, having learnt well by now how to get by on little food, and I was lean and very strong, my wound completely healed. The Lord grants grace to those who strive, and He lends them the will to persevere.
Probably a week or two had past - I had no particular interest in timekeeping, and I was making my way along one of England's many leagues of common ways, when I came upon a slow and curious realisation. The verdancy I always associated with the land of my birth was giving way to a dry and dull barrenness. I was passing a lakeside, and rushes which should have been emerald and brilliant were brown and lifeless. At first I assumed that this area must have been lately ravaged by fire, but nothing was blackened. Perhaps an uncharacteristically hot summer season was responsible for the parched deadening. Certainly the bare-branched trees supported no bird life, as no joyous and busy twittering or chirping was to be heard.
Making my way further across the hillside of this unfamiliar landscape, I became aware of a man walking towards me. He was a knight, approaching me from the opposite direction, but what remnants of armour he wore were in poor condition and sorry disarray, and there was no horse in sight, nor a page. Clearly, he had met with mischance.
"Sir," I called, as he lurched unevenly along the path. "Whither dost thou journey, and may I be of assistance to thee?"
His skin bore a deathly pallor, though his cheeks were flushed, and there was the moistened bloom of fever on his cheeks and brow. Such a look I had heard tell of, and it was in fearful and hushed tones, usually accompanied by the whisper "plague".
"Whither has thou been?" I asked, a little uneasily I'll admit, because the devastation of plague is not something to be spread from hamlet to town, about the countryside. If he was indeed as ill as he appeared, and he was carrying contagion, he should not proceed along his current path. The towns I had passed thought were plague free, and I had heard of no such current scourge or pestilence since my arrival back upon Albion's shores.
"My good man, I am not entirely sure where it is that I have been, although I suspect there is a name for it. Perhaps you will believe me, and perhaps not, because even to my own ears it has a ring of the fanciful, if not the fantastical. I have been in Faeryland, good sir, and there I have met with my downfall and my deliverance," he answered.
"Sir, I am in no haste this morning, and I have in my haversack not much more than a scrap of bread and cheese - but 'twould please me greatly if thee and I were to sit awhile beneath yonder trees, and I am more than happy to share with thee what I have, though it be humble. It seems to me that thou hast a tale to tell, and 'twould weigh lighter on thee for the telling, for t'would become but half the burden," I said.
He sighed, and a sigh of such magnitude I'd not heard before, neither from a man sick nor tired, nor heartsore. It was a sigh with the tone of ruin and hopelessness about it, and it was a desolate sound.
Nevertheless, he walked unsteadily to the tree I had indicated, and sat himself there, awkwardly in his armor, with his helmet cast to the ruined grass to one side of him.
"Food, sir?" I offered. "It looks to be a good while since thou hast partaken of any, if thy pallor be anything to go by."
"Food, I require none," he answered, dragging his thin fingers through unruly hair. "But thy company - aye, that I'll take. And thine ears, too, as I cannot contain this tale of mine, and must tell it lest it burst me. Art though inclined, traveller, to hear a mystery and a tragedy, to be aprised of a soul's misfortune and subsequent undoing, and to know what can henceforth never be unknown, after the hearing of it?"
I was intrigued.
The shade afforded was not much, but the sunlight was wan that day, and sitting for a time was welcome after so many hours afoot. Besides, I was of a mood to hear something out of my sphere of experience.
"Be thy tale to do with the fight for Christendom and the shedding of blood for the Lord, it may not come to my ears as an entirely undreamed-of mystery, as I am recently returned from engagement in the Just War," I said lightly.
"It is plain to me from thy countenance that thou hast been a soldier, and that thine eyes hath seen death meted by thine own hand to crimeless men whose questionable sin is that they hold a different faith. It is equally plain to me that thou hadst neither the heart nor the stomach for such murders. But what has befallen me was not brought about by conflict in the service of the shining ideals of Christendom," he assured me. "My fate was delivered to me by the kisses and sighs of a beautiful woman."
A woman! I had barely seen a woman in years, and before taking leave of my home I had barely seen one either. Yet, I am not one of those men who will seek to use a woman for their own enjoyment. I believe they are no lesser a being in the eyes of God than I am, and I will not hear ill of them, and will not stand by to see a woman abused.
"Sir, I must advise you I have no wish to hear bawdy recounts of a lusty wench - " I began, but he shook his head and urged my silence with a frown.
"I would not insult you or her with crude words and recollections of a vulgar nature," he said quietly. "I am a man of honour, and I would not besmirch a woman's reputation. But are you seated comfortably? Pray, let me begin."
My back was to the tree's dry trunk, and there I settled myself, leaning with my legs out before me. The knight took up a similar position against a tree close, and he pursed his lips, frowning at some contemplation, perhaps wondering where best to commence his story, or how to frame it.
Eventually he arrived at his decided beginning.
"I met her not far from here. Dost thou know this region? Of course, thou art traversing it. I was not one of those who pledged to bear arms in order to earn a full remission of sin. That degree of fervour was not in me, as I knew full well I had little to repent of in my life so far, and wished not to risk that life in foreign lands battling for an uncertain cause. I know myself to be heretical in making such a statement, but I thought I might meet my maker sooner rather than later had I journeyed abroad to fight, and I preferred to stay here and live longer, in case heaven proved not to be as wondrous as I had been led to believe.
"As a knight who remained in England, I still had duties aplenty, and still fought. With so many men away, there was a shortage of trained armsmen in the land, and crime was rife. There were a lot of petty raids on cattle and other property and I worked ceaselessly in defense of my Liege, protecting his lands and his home from marauders. It came to be that I established a regular patrol around the boundaries of his holding, and thus it was that I was riding one day on the South East border when I beheld the fairest sight mine eyes have ever had the grace and privilege to behold.
"A horse was on the path alongside me suddenly, a creature of gloss and shine, with slender limbs and an elegant head. Its bridle and headpiece were set with chalcedony and silver, its mane woven with ribbons and flowers. The horse was remarkable enough, nearly robbing me of breath, but when I lifted my gaze to the maiden riding it, I felt I was in the presence of Beauty herself. Her loveliness was such that I have not the words to convey it. She was moon pale, with lips of amaranth, and tresses of a deep and lustrous brown falling like finest silk past her waist. Her kirtle was of midnight blue, and her feet in the stirrups were bare. I was entranced immediately, a spell cast upon me woven by her presence. When she turned her face to mine, it was all I could do not to fall into a swoon, and slip fainting from my mount. Though she looked at me steadily, her eyes had a faraway expression, and there was an untamed aspect to them, as though at any moment she might urge her steed to turn and gallop. I spoke to her and asked for her name, and in a wild, lilting voice, she told me, "Belle."
"She dismounted from her horse and held her hand up to me, and in all haste I dismounted too, to be at her side. Wildflowers were in bloom everywhere about us it seemed, in celebration of our meeting, and I picked handfuls, remembering a skill my mother had taught me. It is possible to weave and interweave the stems, thereby making a floral wreath, and I made her one of bluebells and dock, michaelmass daisies and primroses. I placed it upon her head and she laughed in delight, and I made strands which I wrapped around her wrists. Into each chain of flowers I entwined scented leaves - rue and sage and the like, and she inhaled deeply of them, her deeply lashed eyelids dropping their delicate veil tantalisingly over her wild eyes as she sighed and murmured.
"Lost, I was - quite endlessly and irredeemably lost; enamoured beyond all reason and foundering with no hope ever of regaining self or equilibrium. Her very presence intoxicated me, her scent drugged me, her dulcet tones enslaved me, and her beauty rendered me insensible.
"Madam, wither dost thou journey? May I place myself and my steed most humbly at your service, and aid you in your travel to wherever it is that you would fain visit? It is no trouble whatsoever to me, indeed it would be my privilege and honor," I told her in the hushed tones in which one who is ordained delivers the sacrament, such is the solemnity of the words. Truly, I was hers to command.
"Her voice was light, her accent exotic, but I could make out words here and there, and she could gesture, and I helped her up upon my horse, cupping my hands to accept her pretty foot and let her use me as a mounting step. Behind her I sat, and she sang in words unknown and thrilling as my horse cantered the flower-strewn paths, taking a route entirely unfamiliar to me though I had lived thereabouts all my life. I was entirely hesitant to place my arms around her, not wanting to appear forward or bold, so at first I rested my hands upon my thighs, but she swayed so as she rode, and twisted to speak, that I placed my hands lightly upon her waist to ensure her balance, and I was drawn even deeper under her mysterious allure by the feel of her slender form under my hands. I was almost in a fever.
"All the way along she would urge me to stop so that she could dismount, and she would grasp some stem or bloom and hold it up to me, for me to discover that it was edible and sweet. In such a way she eased the constant state of hunger I had lived with for months, and quenched the thirst I had become so accustomed to it seemed to have been my lifelong companion. She picked great trumpet-shaped flowers for me, which proved to be filled with nectar such as kings must drink, that never ordinary mortals had never dreamed of. Her smile at my surprise that these bucolic repasts should be so delicate and complex was delightful.
"The afternoon bore on yet the sun seemed to move not in the sky, no matter how long we rode. Though my horse set a fair pace, our progress was leisurely, so frequent were our stops. I minded not at all, as with every moment in her company I wondered more how I had lived thus long without having known her. The way began to look unfamiliar, and I was no longer sure where we were facing, whether we travelled in an arc or line, or indeed whether we moved towards the sun or away from it. None of this I paid heed to.
"And so having lost my bearings entirely, I was disorientated when we came through a gap in trees and arrived at a meadow, enclosed and beatific. Blooms were abounding there in twilight shades of lilac and lavender; trees surrounded it overhanging all the purple carpet with shade, and enchantment was in the air.
"What place is this?" I whispered to her, her scented shoulder just below my lips as she sat in front of me, and her wondrous hair falling over me.
"Tis a faery meadow. Is it not magical?" her voice, soft and low, whispered back. "Fair knight, I doubt not that thou hast travelled many leagues, that thou hast wielded sword and dagger in the name of thy God and thy Kingdom, and that thou must be heart weary and aching of limb. Let us dismount here and rest awhile. Lie with me on this fragrant blanket of blossom, let me hold thy head to my breast and stroke thy hair..."
"I swung off my horse and held my arms up for her, and she slipped into them without hesitation, hands at my shoulders to steady herself. But though I let her go immediately, her light touch remained on me, burning me through. Under her lashes her eyes looked up, and they seemed to convey longing and invitation. This was surely delusion on my part, and hallucination, and I moved to step away, but she stepped with me, sighing, her lips now parted. It appeared to me that the natural tendency of my humor towards melancholia had become unbalanced and a new choleric element was striving for the upper hand.
"Mistress," I gasped, struggling for breath. "I am indeed weary, for I fear my mind is becoming overwrought. I must needs rest, as thou has so rightly suggested."
"The grass was soft, the meadow fragrant and lovely as I sank into it, pausing to remove those elements of my armour which would make repose uncomfortable. My beautiful companion sank next to me, whispering words in a language I knew not, eyeing me all the while with a gaze I fancied slumbrous yet at the same time blazing. Yes, I was febrile, undoubtedly, and mistaking her demeanour for provocative when it was in fact demure - this lowering of her satin eyelids and fluttering of her smoky charcoal lashes.
"Yet - was I mistaken? Even as she lay on her back before her arms reached up, her eyes now wide and steady. Those slender and lovely arms she wrapped about my neck, securing me more tightly than iron bonds could have done, and there was no resisting her. Her intent was clear - she wanted to be kissed prettily, and made love to.
"I bent my face to hers and pressed my lips to her cheeks, her forehead, her brows, her eyes. As I did so she hummed a crooning tune, holding my head, twining those long dextrous fingers into my hair and giving me such a paradoxical sensation of exultation and tranquility as I had not felt in my life before. Her soft mouth nuzzled at my neck with whimpers low, and she nipped me there lightly, her little teeth grazing my skin and her tongue lapping to taste me. When I eased myself down next to her on that pleasantly strewn carpet of flowers, I was sated with the joy of her kisses - the heaviness of my limbs and the ecstasy of my senses soon proving to be more than enough to render me vulnerable to Morpheus' seductive call.
"And as I slumbered there, cradled in the embrace of the Lady Belle, in the meadow where the sun shone not, dreams came to me. Visions, ideas, portents - who's to say what has come to pass, what will come to pass, and what will never be?
"It seemed as though the visions could not have come from my own mind, for they represented nothing I had ever seen - they were a parade of the dead, come back to unlife. Soldiers, generals, lords, marching in step, and turning empty eyes towards me and the Lady. But in my stupor I knew them to be not truly alive - they occupied a state without warmth or feeling or quickening, a state without sanguinity - hopeless and wan. Nightmarish apparitions they were indeed, traipsing across the hinterland and winterland I seemed to occupy, as in my dream this meadow of flowers took on the appearance of the bare and barren location where I had met the Lady. Not yielding, nor fecund but sterile and stark. They paced before me and past me, these irredeemable souls, mouths stretched all in a ghastly and horrifying rictus. In my unconscious condition it seemed to me that they were of an intent to commit unspeakable harm upon my person, yet the presence of the Lady forbade them.
"And my friend - that is all there is to tell. When I awoke I found myself deserted and chilled on this slope of a hill, in this place which I now believe to be damned. Sincerely, I have given account of myself and my experiences, and I have been entirely forthcoming in the matter of what lately happened to me. I have counted three days and three nights shaking and fevered, and entirely sleepless, and I fear God's glory will not find me here. Indeed I fear God's glory will not find me anywhere it may be that I choose to wonder henceforth. Therefore I linger, caring not that this place be so inhospitable, as she who has possession of my very heart and soul may yet return. Yet in those three days I have not eaten and my hunger grows apace. As you see, hereabouts nothing lives."
I paused as I reflected upon the extraordinary story which had just been related to me. A reply was due, but I could scarcely formulate one when what he spoke of was so beguiling and esoteric. A lady of beauty indescribable? A blue meadow? A company of warriors bloodless all, and wishing to visit wrath and hatred upon one man?
"Thy tale is indeed remarkable, sir," I responded at last. "This Lady of whom thou speaks - perhaps rather than remaining here idly it may be that thou and I could journey together to find the pasture of lavender and violet thou spoke of? Dost thou recall the direction in which the Lady took you? We have no horse, it is true, but as you recounted your passage was slow, and maybe it would take us no more than a day to find our destination. What say you?"
"What say I?" he murmured, as though considering a response.
"What say I?" he repeated, turning to regard me with puzzlement and curiosity.
"What say I?" he then growled, his expression becoming suddenly rapacious, and he lunged at me, mouth agape and teeth bared.
I am a trained soldier, and not only that, nature's inheritance has granted me unusual size and strength. Still, it took everything I had to hold him from me, as he seemed intent on grappling, and he appeared nigh on rabid, angling his jaws and teeth as though to bite into me. Thankfully he was weakened, undoubtedly from his days of starvation, if any of his tale was true. And thankfully I am considerably over the average height and weight for a full-grown man, and though his desperation lent him strength, my sense for self-preservation lent me more.
I threw him from me with no little effort, and took deep breaths.
"Sir," I said. "I have listened to thy travails, I am sorry for thy loss, but if you come for me again I will kill thee."
He watched me sullenly, and it was then that I had the inkling that the poor man was insane, driven quite from his senses by privation and solitude. There was no Lady, unless she be the manifestation of all that he lacked and missed, and had ardent desires for - warmth and succor in these times of war and deprivation. I could not feel enmity for him even though he had attacked me - I could feel nothing but pity. He was a wandering soul, lost in these times. If not for the grace of God, his fate would be my own.
"It is now that we must part company, and regretfully I leave thee to remain here, if that is thy will. Fare thee well, sir, and if it be the Lady you wish to find, you have my sincerest wishes that you should happen upon her again, sooner rather than later," I told him.
And so I continued on my way, leaving that dread, blighted place behind, and the pale knight with the afflicted mind, lingering amongst the dead bracken.
It may be that another traveller would pass by - one carrying provisions upon his person, who could give the poor knight alms. It may be that a monk or holy person might chance upon him and grant him blessing. It may be that the Lady herself would return to her suitor and sweep him back to her realm, her arms held wide in benediction and welcome.
I am open to the possibility that I may have been briefly mad of hunger and thirst, and of the aftermath of all that had happened to me abroad, and that the knight I thought I saw and addressed was in me, a part of myself made external, my yearnings manifest in the descriptions of beauty and love and peace.
I would not return to seek him, for whatever he was, he contained a madness and danger that I would have to end with my sword.
And so I trudged on towards my home, with its constancy and surety and narrow confines, and I was glad to be doing so.
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Yes, I know my thees and thous are all over the place. I'm no scholar. If thee would like to volunteer to beta for me, and thou hast a literary degree or vast knowledge of matters linguistic and lexicographical, then prithee drop me a line. Verily, salutations and humble expressances of gratitude wilt be forthcoming.