When next I wake, a crawling

itch prickles my back, and I

wriggle around on

my pallet, trying to reach it.

A searing pain blazes a path

from my chest to the crown

of my head and I am thrust

back down on the bed

by the white hot fury of it.

A small cry escapes from

my lips, and suddenly the tent

flaps are flung open, and

Tristan flies to my side.

What is it, Elaine? he asks,

his face a mask of worry.

Hello, I try to say, but my throat

is parched and the word gets stuck.

Shhh, he hushes me, and lifts

a mug of water to my lips. Drink this

and lie back.

I am fine, really, I argue.

What happened? he asks,

his golden eyes narrowing.

It is nothing, I reply, shifting

uneasily. Just some pain. I am

quite well. Were you — were you listening

outside the tent? I ask.

A scarlet blush colors his

cheeks. I — your father asked me

to keep watch to make sure you

were all right, he murmurs,

looking down.

I see, I say. Well, now that you are here,

how will you entertain me? I ask,

smiling at my friend.

Entertain you? he asks. Am I nothing more

than a court jester?

Exactly. I smile. And I the queen.

Tristan’s hair grows long, curling

in tawny locks about his ears,

touching his shoulders.

His eyes are like a forest

floor mottled by pools of

sunlight, sparkling with mirth, and his

face opens in a slow, easy smile.

He is quite handsome, I think.

Let me see, Tristan says, sitting

beside the pallet. How can I

entertain you? Perhaps, rather

than a jester, a bard might do?

I nod my head, looking forward

to hearing him sing.

Tristan sings to me of a knight

who has lost his lady love,

and as he slays dragons and giants,

this knight can only think of getting back

to the lady who holds his heart,

to the lady who waits for him.

I close my eyes, and

his low, reedy voice summons

moonlight and the sweet scent of

leaves and earth. The heady

perfume of lilies and rose gardens.

How long it has been since I

have stepped inside a garden….

When the song ends,

he looks at me for a long while

in silence. Then, he whispers,

Have I entertained you well,

my lady?

His gaze is intent, as though

he searches for something

hidden behind my eyes.

The way he looks at me makes

it hard to breathe.

Tristan, I start, unsure of what I

want to tell him.

Somehow, in this moment,

I feel our friendship has taken

a turn, an inexplicable change

of direction, and I know not where

it leads.

Thank you, I finish.

He leans down and brushes

his lips over my forehead.

Sleep well, and dream of pleasant things.

I am happy to see you wear the necklace.

He grins, then, as I watch his back

retreat from the tent,

I cannot help but think of the strange

dream of the wolf that came to me,

that haunted me, as I lay dying

in the Saxon boat.