After bathing and dressing, Brys walked around the farm, helping where he could with the animals. The men now respected his knowledge of horses after he saved one from a bout of colic. It was difficult to concentrate on anything. His mind was too busy going over the previous night. Haesal’s passion bewitched him. What a deeply sensual woman she was. Everything about her entranced him, from the curves of her hips and breasts, the soft fullness of her lips, to her untamed eyebrows, so in contrast to the plucked and shaped brows of the modern women.
His body stirred into instant life, and he caught the men eyeing him with knowing grins. All except Nadin’s mate, who walked about in a daze. At Brys’ inquiry, Godwin said, “His woman never carried a child to the full time. Although she has given birth at least this many times,” he held up four fingers, “never yet has one lived.”
How did these naive people learn to cope with such tragedies? The mere idea of Haesal being in such a condition made Brys go cold. Even now she could be carrying his child. What if she was and he wasn’t here to help her? What use would he be anyway? Haesal was right—a birthing was no place for a man, certainly not in 450AD.
It was nearly midday when Haesal emerged. One look at her strained face testified her struggle was in vain. With a single shake of the head, she faced Nadin’s mate. “Nadin has gone, and the child too, Manu my good servant. The child was the wrong way again and Nadin had not the strength to do anything about it.” Choking on the words, she wiped tears from her pale cheeks.
Manu bowed and walked off, appearing to accept the tragedy with more guts than Brys knew he would, given the same circumstances.
“Come on, darling, let’s go to your room and get you cleaned up.” Brys beckoned to Rhoda. “Fetch water for your mistress.”
Once Haesal had bathed and changed into fresh clothes, they went down to the dining hall, but she didn’t seem to have the energy to eat. “In my time we have hospitals where the women go to have babies, and Nadin would have been given a potion to make her sleep while they took the baby out of her womb,” Brys explained gently.
“If only we had such places now.” Haesal dragged in a shuddering breath.
“I’m amazed how quickly the women have accepted the deaths.” They seemed to have placidly gone on about their normal business.
She pushed the food about her plate. “We must accept what cannot be changed. But it saddens me when I can do nothing to help a woman through such a bad time.”
Brys gazed at her. “You realise you could be carrying my child, don’t you?” Her cheeks went pink as she nodded. “I would die if what happened to Nadin happened to you.”
“It would be the will of God.” She gave a small shrug. “What would we be able to do about it?” Brys admired her logic; but logic played no part in his feelings. “We will have to wait to hold our ceremony. It is only fitting that we bury Nadin and the baby first.”
The cemetery was about a half a mile from the front gate, an eerie place where rocks marked the many graves. A rough covering of bark and cloth were wrapped about the woman and baby who were lowered without ceremony into a newly dug hole. Manu helped toss the dirt in and then rocks were piled over the grave to keep out wild animals.
Miserably Haesal and some of the women scattered flowers over the rocks. Brys guessed she suffered a sense of failure, but with nothing at her disposal except a potion and common sense, what could she hope to achieve? Even in modern times, women died giving birth.
Manu gave one last grim look at the pile of stones before walking stiffly away to grieve alone among the trees. The mourners began a slow trek back to the gates.
When Brys asked Haesal, “Shall we walk for a while?” she nodded. After telling Rhoda to go back to town with Godwin, they strolled along without speaking, until Brys broke the silence. “Gerald’s been very quiet all day. He’s obviously guessed we’re now lovers. It will be interesting to see what he has to say about it.”
Haesal did not care what her brother or anyone thought about them. Her senses had become sharpened and deepened since they mated, and she sighed as he possessively circled her middle with an arm.
The scent of blossoms filled the air. The shepherds were herding the lambs to a fresh pasture in the distance, and the soft bleating of the animals echoed across the meadow. Sadness at losing Nadin drifted away when she was near this man. Death was a natural progression. Nothing else was of importance but Brys at this moment in time.
When they came to a willow whose leaves drooped almost to the ground, he pushed a branch aside to allow them access beneath its cool cover. The buzzing of flying creatures droned and her heartbeat combined with the noise to fill her head.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Brys whispered the words before pulling her into his arms. The now familiar yearning blossoming deep within her, and she closed her eyes. More than anything in the world she wanted him to touch her again, to strip her of her clothing, to do all the wondrous things he taught her through the night. He moved closer and she felt the hardness of his desire.
“I want to make love to you, now.” The words were groaned against her mouth. Haesal succumbed to her wanton urges and rested her fingers against the evidence of his masculinity. He seemed to like that—very much.
“Here? We cannot lie here where the servants could see us.”
“We can do anything we like. Admit that you would like to make love with me where the ground is soft and the grass smells sweet. Where the breeze and insects blend together to make the finest music any lovers could want.”
Powerless to stop herself, Haesal lifted her face to him as a flower lifts to the sun. Their mouths clung as their arms circled each other. Passion surged through her as he pressed them as close as two people could get.
Brys gazed down on her flushed face. Never had he felt so wildly alive—his body throbbing with primitive desire. Together they sank to the grass. The soft bank at their backs was an inviting bed, just as it had been in his dreams.
He kissed her repeatedly while removing their garments and then, with his hands, retraced her shape. She followed his lead as he pressed her tightly to him, undulating gently in a bid to ease the tension arcing through him.
As they rushed to fulfilment, Brys let out a hoarse cry and collapsed against her, tears wetting his cheeks.
“Why do you cry, my love?” She touched his wet cheek, asking worriedly, “Did I not please you this time?”
Cradling her in his arms, Brys stroked her back. “You know you’re heaven and paradise rolled into one. I’ve never thought to know such a feeling of being as one with another living soul.” As his breathing settled to an even pace, she hooked a leg over his, moving her knee up and down his thigh, sighing contentedly.
With one finger he lifted her chin. “Such a big sigh. Did I perhaps not please you as before?” Her smile was smug. No—she was too guileless to even consider faking her enjoyment.
She turned thoughtful as she ran a finger over his chest. “I was wondering if it is always so. Does it get better with practice or does the enjoyment fade? Did you feel so…so like a bird on the wing must feel?”
“That and even more. And I doubt my desire for you will ever fade. Perhaps as we grow older the sense of urgency, the compelling desire will lessen, but when our minds and souls are so attuned to each other’s needs it can only improve our lovemaking.”
Later, while she slept in his arms, the old fear gripped him. Intuition warned him they would never grow old together, at least not in this time. Looking down at her, he was filled with an aching tenderness—shuddering under the force of his love for her. Although she looked as fragile as a butterfly, possibly she was stronger than he, for her faith in fate would help her through whatever destiny they were bound to endure.
Words could not explain the shattering and glorious feelings he’d experienced with her—feelings he would never know with another living soul. As he bent to place a reverent kiss on her curling eyelashes, she stirred. Pulling her closer, he tried to blend their two bodies that they might become physically one.
When he shifted, the real world intruded as he became aware of the hard ground beneath his back, the soft tickle of a blade of grass on his thigh. A cool breeze whisked the willow branches about above their heads, sending the clump of poppies and daisies growing in abundance nearby tossing.
The scent of the sea and grass and the sound of the birds singing would stay with him always. This moment would remain fixed in his mind, like a photograph that he could take out later to pore over.
* * *
Brys felt as if he was moving in slow motion, savouring every breath, every touch, as if it would have to sustain him through the heartbreaking time that would inevitably come when they were parted. The days took on a trancelike quality, with little marring their happiness.
The priest was duly summoned. The wedding ceremony bore little resemblance to a modern marriage, disarming by its utter simplicity. Brys and Haesal stood before the priest first as he said a few prayers in Latin over them; then, it was the turn of Rhoda and Godwin and six other couples including Esme and Egbert, Becky and Boyd, Girda and Dafod, and Eunice and Tam.
Forever after, Brys knew he would remember the scent from the masses of white and pink hibiscus-like blossoms around the walls of the small chapel. The rough-hewn benches and altar were draped in flowers. The priest, a mud brown robe hanging loosely on his gaunt frame, asked if they wished to be joined. At their words of acceptance he announced them mates for life. He gripped their hands together, mumbled a few more Latin words, and it was done. But to Brys it was as binding as if they’d taken their vows in Westminster Abbey before the Archbishop himself.
Haesal’s tunic of sky blue was embroidered with strips of gold. Patterns of leaves and flowers down its front were interspersed with amber crystals. Under her blue tunic, she wore a shift of pure white that had been bleached by soaking in poppy roots. Dyes produced from lichens, leaves and plants, including tansy sorrel and foxglove, were used effectively on the multicolored outfits worn by the other women.
Haesal’s hair hung loose down her back, with a braid over each ear interwoven with silvery threads. Dainty meadow flowers decorated a band around her head. Brys felt quite resplendent in her father’s bright green shirt, tan knee breeches, and overtunic of deerskin covered in small tin plates. All the women wore necklaces of translucent and glowing amber or glass beads. Gerald’s belt buckle and decorative chest plate was gold.
After being informed of their plans to wed, Gerald reverted to his former arrogance for a brief time, but when Brys happened to glance his way during the ceremony, Brys took his grin as a sign of acceptance. Erwin’s property now belonged to Gerald, with an overseer currently in charge. Apparently, as this home was now his sister’s, it would therefore become Brys’ property once they were wed. Brys kept his opinion on that to himself.
Three chiefs, allies of Haesal’s father, were there with their close kin. The cooks delivered a banquet fit for a king, with sides of beef and whole spit-roasted pigs. There was venison, rabbits, and legs of lamb cooked in herbs, along with cod steamed in a sauce of wine and thick cream, salmon and trout. Desert was apple, fig, and cherry tart served with lashings of rich cream, candied flowers, or many varieties of cheese.
After the feast one man played a harp with strings of hair, and others thumped on drums of animal hide over wooden barrels. The din was deafening but everyone was so merry after downing great quantities of ale, mead and dandelion wine, they thought it splendid.
Brys, also a bit tipsy, thought it great too. “Come, I’ll teach you to waltz.” He pulled Haesal into his arms.
She managed to pick up the steps as if she’d done this kind of dancing all her life, saying, “This is truly an interesting dance.”
Brys then taught them rock and roll and as the guests copied him the dancing turned into a hilarious shambles with everyone falling over each other’s feet and collapsing into fits of laughter.
It was nearly dawn when the party broke up and Brys and Haesal fell into bed. As the sun came up they made love, a splendid eruption of desire, passion and sensation. Brys trembled in the aftermath as Haesal snuggled closer to his sweat-damp body.
It was early afternoon when they awoke. When her drowsy maid appeared, Haesal ordered a tub brought to the chamber. Rhoda scuttled off to do her bidding. Quite a few buckets of warm water had to be toted up the stairs by the hungover servants to fill the large iron bound oakwood bath. A job they nonetheless performed cheerfully.
Brys and Haesal then spent a lot of time ensuring each part of the other’s body received the utmost attention. Forced out when the water was nearly cold, they then took great pains to make sure each was perfectly dry.
* * *
Keen to seek out the spot where the ruins of Tintagel castle stood in the present, Brys rode out with Haesal a week later to seek the cave where he and Gerald spent their horrific ordeal.
When they came across a circle of stones, much like the ones at Avebury in Wiltshire, Brys dismounted. After he helped Haesal down, she touched one of the stones as if it held special secrets. “That was built by the Druids as a place of worship.”
They then found the headland where Brys was sure the Norman’s built Tintagel castle. The windswept, rugged promontory held nothing but gorse and heather.
Haesal felt encased in warmth and contentment when Brys was near. Her entire being glowed with the joy of life until the happiness inside her threatened to burst out. All around them the birds sang from the heart, worshipping life. The sharp scent of sun-warmed bracken, heather and gorse acted like a love potion to the senses. High above, the majestic eagles soared. When they saw ravens, she wistfully thought of Anstred, and the great happiness dimmed as a premonition made her shudder and a strange chill touched her body.
Brys seemed aware of every change of her mood. Worriedly he asked, “What is it? Surely you aren’t cold on such a warm day.” He wrapped her in his embrace.
How could she tell him what she foresaw? That soon this idyll would be over and their happiness shattered. But, as if he sensed her premonition, he dragged her so near that she could barely breathe. “No, don’t say it! We will never be parted.” There was an agonised catch in his voice. “I can’t bear the thought of life without you. The years will stretch before me like a barren wilderness if I am forced to walk them alone.”
Turning in his arms, she faced the sea. “We must accept whatever fate decrees, dear one. Who can fight destiny? But in my heart I know for certain we will meet again in a life that we will share until eternity.”
His arms a tight band about her middle, he rocked them both. “Anything’s possible. I was transported through time to be with you in your time of need. But even knowing that doesn’t help me. The pain the thought of parting from you brings is like a thousand knives in my heart.”
Haesal needed to make an effort to bring them out of the unhappiness their fears enmeshed them in. She pulled him to a sun warmed rock, where she pushed him down and then sat beside him. “Come, let us not dwell on such unhappy thoughts. Tell me again how you would court me if I lived in your time. You would first ask me out on a…date?”
Brys’s laugh was a half-hearted effort, nevertheless he would go along with her. “First I will send you roses every day, the most perfect blooms I could buy. And I’d bring you chocolates. You remember what they are?” He tapped her nose playfully.
“Oh yes, I would very much like to taste these sweets.” She nodded. “Then what?”
“You’d chide me and beg me not to give you any more because you would worry about your slender figure and how my sweet gifts were making you overweight. So, I’d give you diamonds instead. Precious stones. Of course you will have the family heirlooms.” He waved a hand expansively. “Rings for these slender fingers and necklaces of gold with emeralds and pearls. Every sunset you would put on one of the designer gowns I bought you, and we’d drive to the finest establishments to dine on food prepared by master chefs. We will go to the theatre, and sometimes to the coast to stroll hand in hand along the beach, just as we do now.”
It was all the stuff that dreams were made of. Brys knew his time with her was limited as sure as if he’d received a written declaration. She possessed an ability to foresee the future. And he’d glimpsed the truth in her eyes, no matter how she tried to conceal it.
Brys began to lie sleepless most nights, watching Haesal as she slept, embracing every precious second. Sometimes it would be nearly dawn before he fell into a troubled doze.
Godwin had garnered some of Gerald’s education, and was more intelligent than any of the other servants. He and Brys had become good friends. One day, Brys found him sitting on the kitchen garden wall, polishing Gerald’s shield.
“Good day.” He grinned as Brys sat beside him. When Brys fingered a strip of leather from a harness lying there, Godwin said, “Something is bothering you. I fear you are not as happy as you were. I hope you are not tiring of your life here.”
“I would never tire of my life here with your mistress. But you’re right about me being worried.” Brys shifted on the hard seat, not sure how to tackle this. “Once you asked me where I came from and I told you I’d let you know later. Well friend, I think that time has arrived.”
Godwin looked interested, but when Brys said, “I do this now only because I fear my days here are drawing to an end,” his expression changed to concern.
“An end? I do not understand—you are going away?”
Brys rubbed a hand over his jaw. The best way to go about this was to come right out with it. “I came through time to be with Haesal when she needed me.”
Godwin’s frown deepened as he stared blankly at Brys.
“I know how hard this is for you to believe.” Godwin still frowned, so Brys added, “Do you have dreams when you’re asleep?”
Godwin nodded. “Of course. I see other places and people I have never known.”
“Right—well, that’s about the closest I can come to an explanation. I arrived here during a dream.”
“You came here while asleep?” Godwin looked down at the shield as if it would divulge an answer. “How can that happen?”
“I’m still trying to puzzle that one out.” He would always wonder what force propelled him to this time, perhaps would never know. He patted Godwin’s thigh as he sighed. “But all you must know is that if…no, when I am gone from this time and place you must swear to me that you will guard Haesal with your life.”
“But you cannot leave her. She will surely die if she has not you to lean on!” The shield dropped to the ground as Godwin jumped up, his eyes wild. He looked about and then ran a hand over his head. “She will die.”
“No, she will not die.” Brys pressed a hand to his chest where a sharp pain knifed through his heart. “Your mistress is a strong woman, and wise beyond her years. Her powers will help her cope. She already knows and accepts her fate. Though God knows it will kill me I’m sure.” Brys gripped his hands together as they began to shake.
“But why?” Tears dampened Godwin’s cheeks.
Brys swiped at his own tears. “Who knows? I’m sure I would do whatever it took to reverse the order of life if I could. I will ask the same of Henrik, but he is older and may not have so long to spend in this life as you. Gerald will rule soon and Haesal will stay at his side until the time comes for her to live in the house that now belongs to her. Just swear to me on your life that you’ll do everything in your power to protect your mistress. I must know that she has someone to watch out for her until Gerald is older and can take charge.”
“I swear.” Godwin clutched at Brys’ hands as if the simple act could detain him.
* * *
“So, this baby is fit and well?” Brys stroked Haesal’s back, as they lay entwined on the pallet in her chamber.
“Oh yes, I am so happy.” Her delight was infectious and most of the women in the household had been singing most of the day as they went about their chores.
“And do you know who the father is?”
“No.” Haesal sounded hesitant. “Gwen thinks it might be Hugh, but is not sure.”
Some of the women were shared amongst the men. It didn’t seem to matter to these folk, and it worked well. The babies were brought up in a nursery type environment, with a group of women being nursemaids, rather like some animal species.
Long after Haesal fell asleep, Brys, as usual, held her close and listened to her gentle breathing and the sounds of the night. He’d taught her, among many relevant things, the importance of boiling drinking water, and she’d passed this knowledge onto her people. Painstakingly he’d explained to the men how to get the best from their crops by using fertilizer and irrigation.
Gerald was fascinated by Brys’ methods of self-defense, and so Brys taught him all he knew—which wasn’t a lot, but nonetheless useful.
Haesal was wealthy by the standards of this time. They traded their produce and stock all over the west. It astonished Brys that gold plate and bronze was stashed away in the cellars. No wonder Erwin was so eager to get his hands on the estate. Haesal and Gerald had a share in a local Roman lead mine and silver was extracted from it.
These people had worked out a fair sort of harmony with the land and the creatures, and after all their experiences with the invaders, were ever watchful, aware another such as Garth could venture this far west. The women never strayed far from the safety of the estate. After Brys’s lessons on tactical protection, they now kept strategic lookouts around the clock.
Haesal stirred in Brys’ arms and murmured his name. He pressed a kiss to her temple and she sighed before settling back into a deep sleep.
They were protected from their enemy—but would he and Haesal be protected from the greatest danger of all? The danger of being torn apart by time.
Brys woke with a start to find the sun already streaking in through the window space. Dust motes danced through the ray of light. After another night of spasmodic sleep, the overriding sense of doom that had haunted him for days seemed to have dissipated.
Propped on her elbow, her face grave and intent, Haesal watched him. Smiling lazily, Brys reached for her. “How long have you been awake?”
“Not long, my darling.” She often used the form of endearment picked up from him. “I have been waiting for you to wake so that I could tell you that you are to become a father.”
“What? You don’t say!” Brys showered her with soft kisses.
“Stop, stop.” She let out a breathless little squeal.
“I’m so happy. Tell me you’re happy with the news too.” Brys gave her another fiery kiss, wishing he could grab this moment and keep it forever in his grasp.
“I am the happiest woman alive.” Her voice went husky as his hand settled on her stomach.
As they finished a late breakfast, Haesal said, “I would like to walk in the woods that cover the hill nearby.”
“Your wish is my command.” He kissed her knuckle. The woods were one of her favourite places. She told Brys how she’d wandered there often in the past, finding delight in the creatures of the forest. There she felt close to the forest folk she insisted dwelt there.
It was within hailing distance of the wall in the event of danger. Even though Brys held small reservations, he didn’t want to spoil Haesal’s enjoyment, so didn’t ask anyone to accompany them. They strolled beneath the great elm and beech trees that threw patterns of sunlight and shadow on the mossy path.
“Perhaps we will run into the queen of the fairies.” He grinned.
“I think you are teasing me. You do not really believe in such things.” Haesal aimed a playful punch at his ribcage.
“If you tell me the moon is blue and the stars are made of tinsel, I believe you.” Brys pulled her into his arms and together they sank to the soft ground beneath a large tree.
Their passion surged as their mouths clung. His senses became wildly alive with a primitive desire. His hands swept to remove her clothing and then trembled as he quickly got rid of his own.
“I feel so alive, so free,” Haesal whispered, as he rolled onto her and his mouth crushed hers. As he thrust deeply into her sleek warmth, she arched upwards to welcome him. The sensation was beyond pleasure as his body drove into her, and together they tumbled into the valley of ecstasy.
Sometime later Brys moved to one side and took her with him to cradle her in his arms—her supple body draped across his sweat dampened one. “I love you.”
It was then Brys heard the noise.
At first he thought it was a cow snuffling about in the undergrowth and pawing at the leaves on the forest floor. But then the peace was shattered by a bellow so loud he instinctively went into a crouch and pushed Haesal behind him for protection. It sounded like the devil himself.
“What the hell?” A boar the size of a bull stood at the edge of the clearing. Brys swore fire poured from the distended nostrils in its great head as it scraped the ground. As it began to advance, its head veered from side to side sending saliva out in a stream from either side of its mouth, where yellow tusks protruded like a pair of deadly sabres.
“No!” Haesal’s scream echoed through the trees as Brys reached for the dagger lying nearby.
As Brys pushed her behind the tree whose sheltering branches had formed a canopy for their lovemaking, she tried to make a grab for his ankle.
“Stay there, please.” At his plea she shrank back.
As if in slow motion the boar advanced.
Brys heard Haesal cry out, but was already committed to his fate. As the boar lunged with its tusks, so he plunged his dagger between its eyes. The creature toppled at the precise moment Brys fell, and its great weight covered him.
There was no pain. He was numb. He knew he was dead, but his eyes still saw the sun, his ears still heard Haesal’s screams.