Oxford

Annora Fitzhugh, pulling her cloak more tightly around her thin frame, distressingly stepped over mud puddles and garbage littering the city streets, as she hurried toward St. Michael's Church.

She felt driven to come here and seek relief, one way or another. She hoped with all her heart it would be by finding the monk she sought, not merely confessing her yearning for him.

She had met him at her husband's party, less than a fortnight ago, and hadn't been able to sleep or eat well since.

Brother Robert...what eyes he had! What a young, strong body, only partially hidden under his coarse monk's cassock! What grace, as he moved! His voice was like thick golden honey, and when he smiled...! He alone, of all the men in the world, had delved into her loneliness, and seized her heart! If it was a sin to love a monk, so be it! She was blessedly young...Hell would be decades away. Besides, she couldn't seem to help herself.

The only child of a wealthy cloth merchant, Annora had been spoiled with goods her father could afford, rather than parental attention. Whatever she'd asked for growing up, she had been given, so that she was now under the impression she could have whatever struck her fancy. And goods, as much as she liked them, had long ago lost their luster.

She was bored, wed to an ambitious, cold hearted widower with children older than herself.

At first, she had been thrilled by her marriage. Her wedding had been spectacular for one of her station, causing her friends to go green with envy. Her husband, still handsome at forty-seven, seemed the very image of urbane sophistication. He had truly wanted to marry her, making her forget the string of young, foolish men whom she thought had captured her heart.

But several months of marriage had destroyed her dreams of happiness.

She had traded an absent father for an absent husband. Other than the few nights James would visit her bed, and puff and pant over her, taking so long she'd almost fall asleep and want to beg him to hurry up and finish, she could see little change in her life from before she had been married. But at least, while she was still an unmarried maiden, she could dream of a handsome hero who would come upon her one day in the marketplace, or spot her sitting demurely at her prayers in church, and they would fall in love. A hero, such as the bold and brave Robin Hood, whose ballads she couldn't get enough of.

But all her bright young dreams had died, under the yoke of marriage.

Her friends still envied her, for her husband, just as her father had done, let her have anything she wanted to buy. She was expected to dress well, and look divine, to be a credit to her husband, and further his career. And only recently, he, sprung as she was from merchant stock, had been named by King John, Chancellor of England!

Chancellor's wife! Annora was pleased by that prospect. Thrilled to be able to travel to all the English Courts, and lord it over actual ladies. Perhaps, one day, she'd even be a lady herself, if the king would grant lands and manors to her husband!

But her excitement over travel had changed, that fateful evening she had met HIM.

She recalled being proud of her new silver tissue gown, with the pink silk lined hanging sleeves and the low cut bodice. Her husband had approved her appearance, but once the guests began arriving, he was too busy plotting to pay her any more attention. And nobody else had seemed interested in her, either.

Annoyed, for after all, she was hostess at this party, Annora had stood awkwardly against a wall, not knowing what to do, and wondering which of the nobles was the Earl of Huntington, rumored to be the real life Robin Hood. In her eyes, none of them measured up to the dream her imagination had conjured.

"It's very kind of you to open your home to us," an attractive male voice said softly, intimately, at her elbow. "At least, I assume you're the lady of the house. I have heard, after all, she's very beautiful."

Annora had spun around, dropping her goblet when her eyes met the incredible blue ones staring back at her.

Both of them kneeled to the ground, picking up slivers of very expensive broken crystal. "Allow me," the man had said, with a grin that slayed her. "I wouldn't want you to cut yourself."

As if in a dream, she rose to her feet and watched him. Only then did she realize he was a monk!

A servant hurried forward to clean up the mess, allowing the two of them to retreat to another corner of the room, one cloaked in shadows, as if he didn't want them to be seen. Annora's heart fluttered wildly.

"You're a monk!" she said at last. "My husband didn't invite a monk!"

"I'm here on behalf of my abbot," he explained. "Unfortunately, he is ill, but resting comfortably. Which means, I have been given the blessing of enjoying your hospitality, as well as meeting you! I'm called Brother Robert, by the way, Mistress."

She couldn't seem to take her eyes off him. He was better than any dream she'd ever imagined, except for the shaved top of his head, or his monk's robe.

"Annora," she breathed, forgetting her small supply of manners. "My name's Annora."

"Lovely."

They didn't speak for several moments, but Annora didn't seem to notice. His eyes spoke volumes. At last, he broke the silence by saying, "Your husband is a very lucky man."

"Have you ever been in love?" she asked.

A shadow passed over his face, turning it even more incredibly handsome than before.

"Beneath my monk's robe, lies a broken heart," he confessed.

"No!"

"I've never told anyone before. It's too painful to speak of. But, somehow, Annora, you're different. I feel I've known you all my life."

"I feel that, too! Who broke your heart?"

He sighed, so sadly, Annora almost wept, if she hadn't been so ecstatically happy and excited. "I vowed never to speak her name. She was far too good for me. You see, I loved her since we were children, and pledged to marry her, but I broke my promise to fight the infidel instead."

"You were a Crusader? How thrilling! I guessed as much! Your muscles! I mean...tell me more about your lost love! Was she fair, like me?"

Annora could tell from looking at him, he hadn't gotten over his love. He was still smitten, despite taking holy orders. He would never forget the woman, whoever she was.

"Her hair was dark," he waxed poetically. "Her eyes blue, her cheek soft and creamy. But I can't speak of her, to anyone. It hurts too much. Tell me, are you in love with your husband? What is he like?"

She frowned. "Cold. Rich. Greedy. But how did you lose her? You told me, you went off to war. Didn't she wait for you to return?"

He merely shook his head, his eyes downcast. Annora felt she'd do anything to bring the smile back to his face. "Is that why you're a monk now?" she asked.

"How well we know each other," he sighed, gazing again into her eyes, slaying her anew. "Loving her as I did, I knew I could never give my heart away again. And so, I turned my life over to God, and I find a small degree of solace, serving Him."

"How tragic!"

"It's a good life. I only hope your life is satisfying to you, Annora."

She wanted to weep. Weep, and sing, and shout for joy. She began telling him everything about her, things she'd never confessed to anyone before. And he seemed truly interested, especially when she told him of her current life, as James Fitzhugh's wife.

No one had ever listened to her as he had listened! No one had ever connected to her the way he had! And since their meeting, all she could do was think and dream of him, longing to meet him again!

She found pleasure at last in the marriage bed, closing her eyes, pretending it was HIM who puffed and panted and grunted over her. So much pleasure, in fact, she'd gone to her husband, hinting to him of her newly awakened desire. But he had scolded her, telling her he was busy, then gave her a coin so she could go to the marketplace and buy some trinket.

Instead, she found herself hurrying to Saint Michael's Church, praying that she would meet Brother Robert again.