Authors: Carmella Jones
“Isn’t it dangerous,” Elspeth asked, “travelling with so little?”
The man wore that same playful smile he had had earlier. He looked up into the sky as though the birds shared his secret with him, and would get a good chuckle out of it.
“Oh,” he said, “I have more than you think.”
The man’s name was Henry. Elspeth’s grandmother eyed him suspiciously, but after they had talked for a bit, she began to warm to him.
He ate very little for such a large man. When Elspeth pressed him, he said simply that he had already eaten, though Elspeth much doubted that the innkeeper would have fed him or allowed him to eat at the inn after discovering he was English, and she much doubted as well that he could have made it through an entire breakfast without giving away this simple fact.
The rest of that day Elspeth spent with him. People of the village had heard that he was there, and they came to visit. They came to speak with him, and to ask him if what he said was true.
Most were unbelieving. Many were unsure. Only a few clung to his story as their last shred of hope. These were mainly those who could not leave anyway. They were those who could not make a journey to a new village, or who had so much to lose here that the journey would ruin them, and take from them all that they valued. They were those who most wanted to believe.
But most wouldn’t stay, Elspeth became more and more sure. She saw them packing their things. She saw them readying what animals they had. She saw them preparing to leave with a certainty that they must that broke Elspeth’s heart a little more every time she saw it.
Around dinnertime, the blacksmith came to ask her if her guest was doing all right. He spoke to her, although Henry was sitting there with them. Elspeth said that he was, although she didn’t know why the man didn’t ask him directly.
The blacksmith didn’t answer right away. He seemed hesitant to look at the man, but finally he forced himself.
“I lost two sons in the battle, sir,” he said, speaking with more respect that he clearly felt Henry deserved. “And it was your countrymen that did it. But you say you’re not with them, and I think I believe you. And I would want to lay them to rest here, with their mother, where they belong.”
Elspeth was now the one who felt she was intruding. The blacksmith’s hope was so thin, and he was entrusting it – cautiously, timidly – to Henry.
“I can help you do this,” said Henry. He said it with a gentleness that made Elspeth almost forget the strength of his arms, or the power of the hard muscles that she felt as if through the air as she sat beside him.
“Yes,” the blacksmith said, standing and distancing himself, as if made uneasy by his own growing trust in the man. “I hope you can. I hope you’re a man of your word. This is why we’d like to see you, in the village church, at sundown.”
Henry stood as well and said that he would be there, and the blacksmith left.
It was clear after this conversation that no one would be bothering them. They were alone for the first time, with no one coming to intrude. And they would be for some time. It was probably several hours until sundown.
Elspeth was suddenly embarrassed. She’d been with Henry all day, but this was a new intimacy. She could have left, she supposed. But everything in her body screamed that she would not be dragged from his side, not with all the horses of the English army, not by all the cries of Granaidh and Fiona.
She felt him close to her. They’d been drawing together closer and closer throughout the day, without her really meaning to. Every adjustment in the way she was sitting, every time he rose to greet a villager and sat back down, each move inched them both closer to the heart of the other.
His hand lay on his leg, and he rubbed it absentmindedly, as though he were caressing hers. She watched it, and felt it on her leg as though he had been touching her. A thrill ran through her body.
Then he spoke, and the words felt incidental, unimportant.
“Can I ask you – you’ve never asked me if it was true?”
Elspeth’s laughter rang out in the little room. Not believe him? How could she not believe him? Surely he knew she would believe him. Surely he remembered…
Her mind stopped at that thought, and she wouldn’t let herself go further. She wouldn’t let herself follow that idea where it would lead.
Instead she looked up at him, her eyes saying what her mouth could not speak and her mind would not let herself fully think.
He looked down at her and his hand moved from his leg where it had been constrained by propriety to where it belonged around her waist. He pulled her closer, across the small gap that had been left by the last shred of formality they’d kept between him.
As that last sliver of physical distance disappeared, so too did the illusion of their unfamiliarity. His head, his great head and the gentle strength of his jawline moved quickly towards her neck, as though he’d been holding it back from there for hours. There his lips hovered, hesitant, for the longest moment of Elspeth’s young life.
She listened to his breathing. It was heavy, as was hers, but they were merging into pace with each other.
One breath, two bodies.
Finally, she felt just the softest tips of his lips on the exposed skin of her neck. He kissed her, gently at first, then more forcefully.
She breathed in sharply, breaking the rhythm of their shared breath. He drew back and looked at her, questioningly, offense in his eyes that she wouldn’t welcome his advances.
Then Elspeth knew fear, more intense than she’d felt the night before in the forest. She was desperately afraid he thought his advances unwelcome – desperately afraid she would not again feel the gentle firmness of his lips. Her hands shot out, unbidden, across his stomach, feeling the tightness of the muscles beneath. They found their way, seeking, under his shirt, to where she could feel his skin. She felt his pulse quicken and then he had turned back to her, his lips meeting hers.
Both his hands were on her now, on her waist, then in her hair. She felt his tongue on hers. He pulled her onto him, so she sat, one leg on either side of him, on his lap. His hands were on her skin, creeping up from her legs to her torso, to the small of her back.
She felt dizzy. She couldn’t breathe. There was a war inside herself.
Fiona!
She thought.
Granaidh!
They were here. They could walk in at any moment. Anyone from the village could walk in at any moment.
She felt her body pulsing. Her hands were numb, and they began tingling. He’d drawn her back forcefully so that he could look at her, and again the familiarity in his gaze took her aback. She
knew
him. She knew him from the night before, she let herself think the thought. But then, she knew him from before that. She’d always known him. She felt it in some part of her that she didn’t even know that she had.
She brought her tingling hands to his neck. She could feel his pulse, racing beneath her fingertips. She leaned forward, and laid her forehead on his.
They sat like that for a moment. Elspeth felt the draw toward movement. She wanted to touch, to explore, to learn. But this moment, with all its stillness and closeness, was too precious to disturb.
She felt his hand on her back begin to move, gently, stroking back and forth. She readied herself for the run of blood around her body she knew was coming, and then –
The clang of a pot from another room snapped her head up. For a moment she waited, praying she would not hear –
“Elspeth!” her grandmother’s voice came through the wall, muffled, “come here. I need your help.”
She ran through the possibilities in her mind for a moment. Could she simply not answer? Could she hide? Could she run?
She could not. Her grandmother would come looking for her, and she would find her. Her ankle was much better, but still sore, so even if there had been windows in this room to climb through, she wouldn’t have been able to run far.
Elspeth’s heart sank. She climbed off of him and went towards the kitchen to help her grandmother prepare dinner.
The little church was full. Everyone was there. Elspeth knew she should pay more attention, but she couldn’t focus on anything other than his warm body sitting next to her. She heard them asking questions of Henry. She heard him answer. She heard him defend himself and insist on the truth of the wolf.
She even saw herself stand and defend him, telling the whole village that she had seen the wolf. She heard herself tell the story of it, and how quickly it had dispatched the English soldiers. She did not tell them who the wolf was. She did not tell them of the viciousness she saw in its eyes, nor the kindness there.
Some were convinced. Some were not. It was hard for her to pay attention. She knew that some would leave. She knew that she would stay. She knew that the blacksmith would stay, and that there would be some others. She looked at Henry, and his set jaw, and she knew that however many stayed to defend, it would be enough.
After the meeting, people wandered out into the streets. Several tried to talk to her, but she was in a haze. She walked with Fiona and Granaidh to their house, where the household went to sleep.
Or rather, where Fiona and Granaidh went to sleep, and where Elspeth pretended, for as short a time as she dared, to sleep. The moment she thought it would be safe, she slid out of bed, as quietly as she could so as not to disturb Fiona, slipped on her dress and shoes, and crept from the house.
The night outside was clear, and the ground was drier than it had been the night before. The moon shone brightly and she had no trouble finding her way. The pain in her ankle was only the faintest of inconveniences and hardly even played on her mind.
She had a destination.
Steadily, surely, she walked toward the forest, where she had last seen the wolf. There she sat and waited. The certainty that he would come did not surprise her. It felt inevitable that he would be here, and inevitable that she would wait.
She did not wait long. She did not hear him coming until he was very close and she could see him, so consumed was she with thoughts of earlier that day and what she had felt.
When she did see him, he was bigger than she remembered, but he bent his head down so that she could touch his face. She put her arms around his neck and drew closer to him.
“Please,” she said, “I want to see you.”
Then she blinked, and he was in front of her, her hands still around his neck, the moonlight gleaming on his pale, naked skin.
“But you do see me,” he said. “You always see me.”
Then he kissed her, and she drank in the sweetness of his affection, knowing that however much she got she would never be full. She could feel him against her, and she had never seen a naked man before, but she was not shocked or embarrassed. It was only right that he should be there, and right that he should be naked. And when his hands reached round to undo her dress, and slid it off of her soft, inexperienced body, it was only right that she should be there, naked, against him too.
It was right for him to lay her down, on a patch of soft moss she hadn’t noticed, but he must have known was there for her. And it was only right for them to be together, one breath, one body.
After, they lay on the moss, and looked at the sky and the moon through the branches.
“Why are you helping us?” Elspeth asked out loud, although she felt she knew the answer.
“Because I heard you, at the church yard. And I knew that when you were in pain, I would need to ease that pain. And if you wanted to stay, then I would stay with you.”
She curled up next to him, pulled her dress over them both for warmth, and fell into the deepest sleep she’d ever had.
In the morning, Elspeth woke alone. Henry was gone and she had no memory of him leaving. Only the small tear in the back of her dress convinced her for certain that it hadn’t all been a dream. She put it on, feeling so very alone, and wandered toward the village.
When she got there, she found a changed place. About a third of the people had left their homes, and the rest were terrified, or excited, or a combination of both.
“Where is Henry?” people kept asking her, over and over, and she had no answer for them.
She thought Granaidh would be very cross with her when she finally found her, but to her surprise she was only concerned.
“What’s happened?” she asked her grandmother. “Why is everyone so concerned?”
“There was a man who came in the night. He’d seen the English coming and ran all the way here to warn us. He says they will be here today.”
Elspeth felt her heart begin to race.
“Where is Henry?” her grandmother asked. “Where is the wolf?”
Elspeth had no answer.
They spent the rest of that day in a panic. People came to the house over and over to ask her questions. Had she seen Henry? No, no she had not. Was he coming back? Was he bringing the wolf?