The
full moon hung low in the starless sky,
its
pale light gleaming off a steel halberd
as
the sentry kept watch atop the lofty tower.
He
drew his cloak fast around his shoulders.
Mid-winter
was scarce a fortnight away,
yet
the chill that grazed him now was not the work of nature.
His
eyes swept across the barren landscape.
Trees
and fields lay dead and fallow,
their
once bright hues now dull and lifeless.
A
sudden sound engaged his failing senses.
Steel
and leather clinked like dripping rain
as
a mounted figure approached the gate.
The
sentry sighted upon the rider’s shield.
His
halberd clanged upon the rough-hewn stones
as
he blew his horn both loud and long.
The
drawbridge lowered with a crash of thunder.
As
a circle of torchlight enveloped the darkness,
the
stranger drew near and removed his shabby cowl.
Chestnut
hair hung ragged beneath a battered helm .
Eyes
of piercing emerald shone in the darkness.
The
left one bore a slender scar, running down from brow to cheek.
Two
pages came running, their eyes ablaze with relief.
One
grasped the reins as his master alighted.
The
other bore hot mulled wine, steaming in a silver flagon.
The
lord plodded wearily across the bridge,
born
down by the weight of arms and armor,
and
by sheer exhaustion of both body and soul.
The
vaulted roof glowed in the light of the torches.
The
lord was relieved of dagger and sword,
and
so were the burdens of his helm, shield, and bow.
The
clink of mail and clang of steel resounded in the hall.
As
his armor was removed, piece by bloodstained piece,
the
lord felt new life grow beneath his breast.
A
page led the lord down a broad stone corridor,
into
a room alight with many candles,
and
bathed in the scent of fragrant herbs and oils.
A
tub of water lay with its white steam curling into the air.
A
sight of paradise as the lord had not seen for many a moon,
he
disrobed and allowed the water to ease his weary form.
With
his body pitted by ragged scars of battle,
and
strands of liquid silver running through his hair,
the
servants saw that their master had aged in more than years.
The
lord was garbed in a robe of fine silk,
and
seated down before a glowing fire.
Its
merry light cast dancing shadows over his newly weathered face.
Servants
came bearing trays and salvers.
Bread
and meats were placed before him,
along
with cheese, fruit, and the clearest ale.
Sated
in body but not in spirit,
the
lord bade his servants to retire,
and
moved alone down a torch-lit passageway.
He
stopped before doors of oak and iron.
With
the strength of a lion but the temperance of a lamb,
he
eased them open with nary a sound.
The
light of a thousand candles met his eyes,
and
the air he breathed was thick with incense.
On
the cold, stone floor knelt his wife, beads clasped in her hand.
Softly at first, but growing in tone,
he spoke aloud the sacred vows
they had exchanged so long ago.
The
lady froze and rose to her feet.
Turning
slowly with precision and care, she gasped aloud,
her
round mouth obscured by her outspread hand.
With
widespread eyes, she watched him approach.
As
gentle as a breeze and blossom,
he
brought her hand up to his lips.
His
touch sent shivers through her very being.
His
strong arms caught her as she nearly fell
and
led her slowly from the room.
To
their own chamber he led her now.
Silk
brocades and woven rugs, as well as a shelf filled all with books
gleamed
in the light of the roaring fire.
In
the soft-glowing light of the bedside candle,
the
lord examined his wife’s fine features.
The
most beautiful sight he’d beheld in years.
Her
blue-grey eyes like the steel of a sword,
with
skin brightly pale as the finest pearl
and
lips deep red as spring’s first rose.
Gazing
into her sparkling eyes,
The
lord stroked his wife’s smooth cheek
and
with a gentle touch removed her veil.
Her
long raven locks tumbled down,
like
a new-made waterfall splitting the rocks
and
gleaming wit the slightest silver.
The
lord led his wife to bed,
and
as his lips at last touched hers,
he
deftly shed her every garment.
In
the light of the slowly darkening fire,
her
body shone like a pearl set in ivory,
and
with one swift motion she cast off his robe.
They
slipped into the fur-lined bed,
each
one feeling the body of the other.
For
a time, they lay silent, green and blue forever entwining.
As
the fire grew dark and the candle burned low,
the
lord looked toward the chamber door,
his
keen ears straining for the slightest sound.
Hearing
none, he turned back to his wife.
She
wore a smile that could undo the heavens,
and
he returned the gesture in kind.
Taking
a hold of the silken cord,
he
gently closed the velvet curtains,
just
as the candle spent its last light.
