I see you have grown restless with my tale of sea, salvage, and storm, and are impatient to discover the nature of that green-eyed lady who greeted me on Gannet Isle. I have delayed this revelation not to vex you, but because the tale of my relationship with Orlanda is so far-fetched and fantastical that you might be tempted to view me as a braggart or self-seeker, or perhaps a mere lunatic.
I see that amusement tweaks the corner of your mouth. Yes, perhaps I am after all a self-seeker, but I hope we may agree that I am not yet mad.
You have proved to me many times that you know me better than I know myself, and so I will tell you the plain truth about this lady, and trust you will understand me well enough to know whether or not I embroider the tale.
You have heard, I think, that four years ago I was held for ransom by the brigand Sir Basil of the Heugh, and that I managed to escape with my life and a share of the outlaw’s treasure. I have told the story of my escape many times, but any story you might have heard was a plausible fiction. I have never told the truth till now.
We hostages were held in a cliff-walled corrie high in the Toppings and allowed to wander free during the daytime, because there was no escape but by climbing the cliffs, and this could be done only in full view of the guards. At the back of the corrie, behind some woods, I found a fresh, cold spring and a ruined nymphaeum, a monument built by the ancients to honor the spirit of the water. In the remains I found a fallen statue of the goddess herself, all of rosy marble, and set her in the place of honor. I bowed to her and offered her homage and consoled her in her misfortune.
And by and by, I began to see a red-haired lady in the camp, and when I found her playing her mandola in the woods near the nymphaeum, I spoke to her. I fancied I was in love with her and asked her to run away with me, and she consented. She not only guided me away from the camp in the dead of night, but helped me plunder Sir Basil’s strong-house, so that I left with the sack of gold, silver, and gems that were the foundation of my fortune. I stole the stolen goods from the man who had stolen them.
Yet once Orlanda guided me from the corrie, she led me to an ancient ring-fort in the Toppings, a place crowned by a great fang of a ruined tower. The air was suffused with a kind of unearthly light, and the music of an invisible orchestra sounded on the air. She said she wished to be my bride, but I would not go, and, with good reason, I suspected something uncanny and questioned her. She is a nymph indeed, powerful and immortal, and because I did not wish to spend a hundred years in her bridal bed, she now follows and persecutes me.
For as you know, I wish to live in the world, and adventure here and make my mark, and I desired not to spend my life on a lascivious couch in fairyland, tended by unseen servants and made the toy of a capricious goddess. What sort of life is that for a man of ambition?
You should not fear for yourself. For I have made Orlanda promise that, though she may toy with me as she desires, she will not harm those I love. And though I know these words of mine may drive her into some reckless, abandoned, jealous act, I do not shame to say it is thee I love, and no other.