CHAPTER XIII

 

The Year 1119

The Martyr’s Well

 

Wandrille handed Will the ladle full of water from the well’s bucket. His hand held hers as he sipped from it, keeping his eyes on her. Will pulled her to him, dropping the ladle. “Forest maiden,” he whispered, running his fingers through her hair. Will kissed her gently, his lips kindling a fire that spread through her limbs.

“Wandrille,” he said, “I want you.”

Surely this was the moment, Wandrille thought, when Will would ask her to be his wife.

Will suddenly pushed Wandrille from him. She nearly lost her balance, but caught herself, leaning against the well. Will’s hand was on his sword. Something was coming toward them through the trees.

“What is it!” she cried.

A man and woman suddenly burst into the clearing, giggling like children. The young woman held her veil in her hand. Her hair had come loose, and her bodice was undone, revealing the curves of full white breasts. Grass stains were evident on her companion’s knees. The intruders looked shocked when they saw Wandrille and Will at the well. The man went down on one knee, his face scarlet. He bowed his head. “Your Royal Highness!” he gasped.

Wandrille looked from the man to Will in confusion. The woman curtsied clumsily, nearly tripping over her skirts. “Will? What does this mean?” Wandrille’s throat felt dry, but her hands would not move to reach for the relief the well water would bring.

“Oh get up, Richard,” Will said sharply.

“Forgive me, Prince William, I had no idea!”

Will looked at Wandrille. She heard the anger in his voice. “May I present Richard, Earl of Chester and his wife Lucia?”

The young woman kept her eyes downcast, looking mortified. She grabbed at her hair, attempting unsuccessfully to bind it up with one hand while trying to lace her bodice with the other.

“Are you alone?” the prince asked.

Lucia shook her head. “No, Cousin. My brother Stephen, Robert of Glochester, and your sister Mathilde are with us.”

“Damnation,” William muttered.

“Will,” Wandrille cried, “what is happening?”

Will ignored her. The Earl of Chester leered at her with a vulgar grin.

“I am so sorry, William,” Lucia said. She glanced curiously at Wandrille.

She called Will “Cousin,” Wandrille thought. She felt like she was spiraling into darkness. She struggled to maintain composure as she absorbed the shock of the realization that Will was Crown Prince William Atheling.

Richard of Chester took his wife’s hand and began to back out of the clearing. “Our most abject apologies, Your Royal Highness,” he said. “We merely stole away from the others for some playful mischief. We did not know you were in the forest with, well, with another.”

Will said to Lucia, “I trust I can rely on your discretion, Cousin?”

She nodded, blushing profusely.

“Say nothing of this encounter to anyone,” he ordered.

The earl and his wife hurried away. Wandrille heard their laughter through the trees as hot tears ran down her cheeks.

“Damnation!” Will exclaimed. He kicked at a stone, startling a raven into flight. He looked at Wandrille.

“Well. Now you know.”

“You lied to me.”

“I did not lie to you. I merely withheld the whole truth. I told you once we were found out it would ruin everything.”

“How could you lie to me? I thought you loved me.”

Will sat down heavily, resting his head in his hands. “I do love you,” he said softly.

Wandrille knelt down in front of him, pulling his hands away from his face. “Look at me, Will. How could you make love to me when you are betrothed to another? How could you do that to me?”

“You do not understand. You could never understand what my life is like.”

“Oh, I think I can imagine.”

“No.” Will shook his head. “You cannot. You have the freedom I shall never know.”

“Am I supposed to pity you? You who would shame me and steal my maidenhead to leave me in shame? I thought you would wed me, but you are betrothed to another!”

“I have never even met my bride. The first time I will see her is when we stand together at the altar. She is a child of only fifteen summers. I have no choice in the matter. It is all about duty for me, and I hate it. Oh try to understand, Wandrille. You are different. You are my dream woman.”

Wandrille laughed bitterly, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. “She has only one summer less than I, yet you call her a child and me a woman. Hypocrite. You call me your dream woman yet allow me to be mortified. I heard their sniggering and can guess the vulgar assumptions behind it. Those people think I am low and common. You failed to mention that my father is lord of this estate.”

“Oh, forest maiden, this changes nothing between us.”

“Are you mad? This changes everything!”

“It does not have to. Pray, come with me. I can secure you a place as handmaiden to my wife. It will be a very great honor. You can be my first mistress.”

Wandrille’s face went pale. Her green eyes turned dark with fury. “I never want to see you again,” she said.

Will protested, “Am I a different man than the one you love just because you know I am a prince and not a lesser noble?”

“Noble you say? There can be no nobility without honor. I do not know who you are. I never did, Your Royal Highness.”

His face clouded over. “I can order you to my court if I wish.” Will grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and held her facing him. “I grow weary of your piety. Perhaps I will take your precious virginity right here. I have every right to possess you.”

Wandrille’s heart beat furiously. “You would add rape to lies and betrayal?” she said.

“I am the crown prince. I can take what I want.”

“You are right, your highness. You can take me by force if you want to waste your energy on a woman who now loathes you. I assure you I will do everything in my power to ensure there is no pleasure in it for you. I will call on the name of Jesus the whole time until you spill your seed in shame and are filled with guilt for your vicious act. When you are done with me, I will take my own life. I will cast myself into the bottomless well of Saint Guinefort before your eyes, so you never forget how you slew my innocence.”

Will laughed. “Do not be ridiculous. You would never do such a thing.”

She glared at him. “Try me, faithless prince. I swear I will kill myself after you defile me, and my death will give the martyr’s well a new meaning. You will become a prince without a soul. Make no mistake. The king, who is known for standing by his word, will not look kindly on your rape and murder of a maiden.”

Prince William threw her to the ground angrily. Wandrille trembled with the fear that he was about to make good on his threat, in which case she would soon die tragically. What have I done, she thought, panicked. What if God does not view me as a virgin martyr for taking my own life and casts me into the fires of hell for my sin? But if Will rapes me, I must leap into the bottomless well. I cannot let him best me.

“I shall not need to waste my time on someone like you,” the prince said. “You may keep your precious maidenhead, witch.” The prince whistled for his horse.

“You said you loved me, Will,” Wandrille sobbed.

He looked down at her, his expression softening from anger to sadness. “And I did think I loved you, forest maiden. But love is naught but a romantic fantasy that fades quickly in the light of reality.” He rode away.

Wandrille looked up the empty path through the trees where he had gone. Only the afternoon shadows moved through the greenwood. Rolling over, she laid her head on her arms, crying in great heaving sobs. The shadows deepened. The mists began to rise around her. She wished they would devour her so that she would die and become a wraith, floating away to join all the broken hearted ghosts whose spirits inhabited the fog.

A shadow moved through the trees. A blue jay called out a warning. The shadow took on the shape of a man. Wandrille strained to see through the mist, terrified that Will had returned to rape her. The man knelt down before her, gathering her into his arms. Wandrille looked up into Martin’s eyes. She melted into him, unleashing a new torrent of tears. Gently, he rocked her, saying over and over, “Shh, there now, you are safe. I am with you.” Martin held her until she was finally spent from crying.

“What is wrong, Wandrille? What happened? When you did not come home, I was worried, so I came looking for you. Are you hurt? Are you injured? What are these bruises on your arms?”

Wandrille shook her head. “My body is not injured, Martin, only my heart.”

She saw the question in his eyes.

“Oh, Martin,” she sobbed. “I have been such a fool. I loved him. I loved a man I never knew.”

Martin reached for his sword. “Who has dishonored you? I will kill him. I will see him brought to justice.”

Wandrille sat up. What was he saying? No one must ever know who had broken her heart. Were Martin to seek revenge on the crown prince it would mean his death.

“No!” she cried. “No, Martin, I have not been dishonored; I have only been foolish. I did not give myself to him fully. The fault is mine. It does not matter who he was. It is past and will soon be forgotten. Oh, Martin, you must promise me you will let it be. Just let it be. He was no one important. My heart is broken only because I am a fool.” Tears overwhelmed her again.

Martin wrapped her in his arms. “Love makes people foolish sometimes, darling.” He held her until her sobs became the steady breathing of an exhausted sleep. He kissed the top of her head softly. He looked up at the sky over the clearing, where the first stars shone like eyes in the night sky. “Oh, my love,” he sighed, “If only you loved me, never would I break your heart.”