CHAPTER VIII
The Year 1119
The Martyr’s Well
Wandrille waited for Will at the well as she had every day since they met. She knew no more about him than that first day, but that did not matter for she greeted every dawn with excitement knowing she would be in his arms again, giddy from his kisses.
Since meeting Will, Wandrille went about her days with a smile on her face, heady with the thrill of her secret romance. She had blushed this morning when Martin said she looked different. She had laughed it off, claiming the red tunic was new. The garment made her skin glow and her eyes look dark and mysterious, which was why she had chosen it. She had brushed her hair until it shone like silk, winding a thick braid around her head like a crown. Wandrille had hurried away from the herb garden and Martin’s perceptive eyes. He knew her far too well.
Wandrille drew water from the well to refresh herself. The day was warm and cloudy, infusing the forest with a mystical atmosphere. It would be easy to believe in magic on a day like this, with a carpet of bluebells beneath your feet, and the song of birds in the trees heavy with leaves so thick and green you could not see the sky. Wandrille heard the horse approaching, and a soft whistle, which was William’s signal. She whistled in return. A flash of white moved through the trees along the winding path. The horse cantered into the clearing like a majestic steed from out of a legend.
Will dismounted, and Wandrille ran into his open arms. He covered her face with kisses until she gasped for breath. He loosened the braid she had so painstakingly arranged, kissing her again.
“All night I thought the morning would never come,” he said.
“I hardly slept,” she confessed, “and when I did you filled my dreams.”
Will smiled. “I fear the monks think me stupid, for I gaze blankly at them when they question me on my studies. All I can think of is the hour when I can steal away and hold you in my arms again.”
“It is the same for me.” Certain of what she saw in his eyes, Wandrille summoned the courage to say, “I love you, Will. Oh, kiss me again!”
“What a bold statement for a maid.”
Wandrille sat down on the grass, leaning against the well. She looked up at him. “Would you rather I was dishonest with you? I love you, Will, and I want to shout my love for you. In fact, I think I shall.”
She jumped up, leaned over the well, and cried, “I love you! I love you!” Her cry echoed in the place that was as deep as the sea.
Will pulled her to him and kissed her again. They sank down on their knees, and when he leaned against the stones of the well, she snuggled into his arms happily.
“Ah, my darling forest maiden,” Will said, “let us not tell the world just yet. Once we tell it will ruin everything. Pray let us not break the magic of the spell.”
“But, Will, when can we declare our love? Shall we ever have more than stolen moments in secret places?”
“Of course we will. When the time is right I shall work things out, and you shall come away with me and be with me always.”
“What is there to work out, dearest Will?”
“Things. Just things.”
“What things?” she persisted.
“First I must finish my studies in the abbey. And there are other matters which require my attention.”
“I do not understand you. Why do you keep your life a mystery from me? Why are you not as open and honest with me as I with you? I know nothing about you, neither who your family is nor where you come from. Should I doubt your intentions toward me? Should I fear they are not honorable?”
Will stood up. He snapped, “We will speak no more of this.”
Will’s imperious manner startled and frightened Wandrille.
He said, “I love your forest.”
“Are you trying to change the subject?”
“Where I come from is irrelevant, Wandrille. What does it matter who my people are? You must trust me when I say I want you with me. In time you will understand everything. For now, all that matters is that I have found you and we are together. For as long as we have.”
“Are you are going to leave me.?”
“I must leave only for a little while until I can work things out. Then I shall come back for you.” A rabbit hopped across the clearing. “If only I had my hawk with me,” Will said.
“Your hawk?”
“Yes. It is a magnificent bird with the sharpest eyes and talons of any predator in the sky.”
Wandrille shivered.
“There is nothing like watching a magnificent falcon swoop down on his helpless prey with the precision and speed of a shooting star. Have you ever been hawking, forest maiden?”
Wandrille frowned. “Hawking is not an activity that would appeal to me.”
Will shrugged. “That is of no consequence. When I have leisure time I shall enjoy hunting in this forest. There is so much game. All the deer a man could want for the taking.”
“You cannot hunt here, Will.”
“I can hunt wherever I want,” he retorted.
Wandrille shook her head. “My lord father owns this land, and this forest is under the protection of the king himself. You must not be caught poaching. Killing the king’s deer is as serious a crime as stealing the king’s taxes.”
Will laughed.
“You would not find it so funny if you were caught,” she warned. “I hear King Henry’s dungeons are horrible places, where people rot and die covered in filth and vermin. Why, only last week my father heard of a man whose eyes had been put out by the king’s order. The poor man, thrown in the dungeon, bashed his head against his prison wall until he died.”
Will sat down under a tree, reclining on one elbow. Ignoring Wandrille’s concern he said, “Perhaps I shall take a holiday and visit the Lord of L’Aigle. I have heard he breeds magnificent eagles, and that he never hunts with falcons. I would like to see his birds. Surely I could persuade him to make me a gift of one.”
Wandrille opened her basket, withdrew a carrot, and fed it to the horse, patting him affectionately. “I hate hunting for sport,” she said
“Do you hate me then, because I love to hunt?”
Wandrille looked at Will. “I could never hate you. It is possible to love a person and not agree with everything they say or do.”
“Well, my dear, I am not accustomed to being disagreed with. I find it rather refreshing.”
“Do you mean no one ever disagrees with you?”
He shook his head.
“Who are you that no one disagrees with you?”
He laughed.
“How odd that must be. Do you think me too bold because I disagree? Yet, I cannot be less than who I am.”
“I like your boldness, Wandrille. I have never known a maiden who speaks so frankly. I find you enchanting. You have a wildness and mystery about you that is like this forest. Were I a falcon or an eagle I would dive from the sky and sweep you up in my talons. I would carry you off to my nest and most happily devour you.”
Wandrille giggled. “What if I do not wish to be devoured?”
“Oh, but you would be so delicious.” Will held out his arms, and she went to him eagerly.
“For a maid who does not wish to be devoured, you make it easy for the bird of prey.” He rolled over so she was beneath him and kissed her deeply. “Give yourself to me,” he whispered huskily. His hands explored the curves of her body. “I want to take you now, to make you mine.”
His touch sent chills coursing through her. She looked up at him with a radiant smile. “Oh, Will,” she said, “You want to marry me?”
Will sat up abruptly. “What?”
“You want to make me yours. Are you asking me to be your wife?”
He laughed. “Are you serious? You cannot mean that you insist on being wed before you may bed. Are you really that naïve?”
Wandrille felt the heat rush into her cheeks. “Of course I must be wed! You are not suggesting I allow you to take my maidenhead without the proper vows.”
He grinned lasciviously.
She felt the scarlet creep up her neck and flush her cheeks. “Oh, you are suggesting that very thing. But you cannot be such a cad. ‘Twould be a sin.”
“Ah, but m’dear, sin can be such fun.”
Angry tears stung Wandrille’s eyes. “I will not sacrifice my virginity as if it has no value. I cannot believe you would ask that of me.”
“Pity,” he said.
“But you said you wanted me to be with you always.”
“And so I do. You fill my loins with desire, and you amuse me. I do not plan to lose you.”
Wandrille felt like she was being sucked into a whirlpool. “Will, please answer me honestly.”
Will bowed. “With the utmost candor, forest maiden.”
“Do you love me?”
He pulled her to him and answered her with a kiss that left her breathless, His lips were rough, the kiss insistent, like he wanted to get inside her. His body was firm, his arms strong. She feared he could break her in two if he so desired.
In the distance the abbey bells tolled vespers.
“I must go,” Will said gruffly, “lest they discover I am gone. Meet me tomorrow?”
Wandrille drew shallow breaths. She felt like she had been dancing in a frenzy around a bonfire, and its flames were a molten river flowing through her veins.
“I will be here,” she said softly.
“I warn you, forest maiden. I am not made of stone, and I will not play the waiting game forever.” Will swung onto his horse’s back and galloped out of the clearing.
Wandrille felt bewildered. I am not playing any game, she thought. What does he mean? She sat by the well until the evening mists began to rise. Her lips felt tender and puffy to the touch, like they were bruised. She dipped the wooden spoon into the bucket and drank deeply of Saint Guinefort’s healing water.
“Will does love me.” She sighed. “He could not kiss me like that if he did not love me.”