Speaking that truth yesterday would have been death to her, but now…things were different. Something had changed. Something between Melville and herself had changed. By making herself vulnerable to Melville, and in turn hearing so much of his own life, she felt as if there had been a bond created between them that was not of their own making. One that could not easily be broken or ignored. Relaxing in Melville’s presence for the very first time since they had met, Avis fell asleep.
Melville felt the tension in Avis’ body leave her, and looking down, saw that she was asleep. He smiled down at her: a smile that spoke of care and affection, and a deep rooted desire to prevent any harm from coming to her. If she had seen it, Avis would have been under no illusions as to how her husband truly felt about her.
Melville looked at the fire, which had been dying away for many minutes. He calculated that, looking at the way the fire had almost gone out completely, they had been speaking for hours. He felt intensely happy. A rush of emotion filled him, soaring through his mind and reaching the very ends of his toes.
Melville looked down at his emotionally exhausted wife. His feelings about Avis had been incredibly confusing for longer than he cared to admit. With every meeting, every conversation, every day that had gone past, he learned something new, something amazing, something about her that he revelled in and completely enjoyed. Every confusing part of her personality and character was starting to fit together in a way that he had never expected, to produce this beautiful and darling creature that now lay in his arms.
He stared at her. At her physical beauty, radiating from every inch of her, and at her soul, which poured out light the more he spoke to her. He felt as if he had been walking along the cliff top of emotions for a while now, but this was the time. Time that he faced up to his true emotions.
Melville didn’t just fall in love with Avis. He jumped.
Chapter Twenty One
The muffled sounds of footsteps and the lighting of a fire were the noises and lights that awoke Melville and Avis the next morning. They had fallen asleep together sitting on the seat, and were slightly embarrassed to find their hands clasped and entwined. Melville immediately rose.
“Forgive me,” he said awkwardly. “I shall leave you to ready yourself for this new day.”
He rushed out of the room before Avis had time to collect her thoughts, but she was sorry to see him go. She had not slept so well for days, and she had a strange feeling that his body had given her better rest than any bed she had known.
Standing, she stretched herself like a cat that had spent too much time in the sun, and made her way into her chamber. Her hand still hurt, but the pain had dulled, and the skin was already healing. Changing into her most beautiful blood red dress, Avis bathed her face in the cold water that had been brought in by the embarrassed manservant whose feet had woken the couple.
Moving downstairs to break her fast, Avis was surprised but pleased to see Melville had not left immediately as was his normal custom, but was waiting for her before he started eating. Other men in the hall had not the same courtesy, but she breezed past them without care, eyes fixed on the man at the head of the table. Avis inclined her stately head towards him, and Melville answered her with a broad smile that she laughingly returned.
Evidently the events of yesterday, and the deeply personal conversation that had gone on long into the night had changed something between them, mused Avis. Whereas before there had been nothing but resentment and cold treatment, now there was a bond between them. They, and only they knew the truth about each other’s pasts in this hall – and that truth gave them something that they had not had before. Trust.
Seating herself beside him, he spoke as he piled his plate with food.
“What are your plans for today, Avis?”
Avis was only recently becoming accustomed to the use of her name by her husband, but she still did not have the courage to return the familiar gesture. Despite the openness that they had experienced the night before, she could pretend that there was something still incredibly unknown about him. Until that was removed, she could not act completely openly without fear.
“I have no certain plans, my lord.”
Melville clapped his hands loudly, and a servant immediately approached.
“My lord?”
“Ready two horses, and a pack of food.” Melville commanded.
The servant bowed.
“Yes, my lord.”
He scurried out of the room, and Avis looked enquiring at her husband.
“Are you going somewhere?”
Melville took a large mouthful of bread, and nodded. When he had swallowed, he spoke.
“We are indeed.”
Avis was startled, and lowered the handful of grapes that she had been lifting to her mouth. One fell from her palm, and rolled across the table to rest by a jug of warm ale.
“We are?”
Melville reached out a hand to place upon hers, and gently squeezed it.
“We are. Now eat! You will need your strength.”
Avis shook her head, half in bewilderment and half in laughter. Who could have predicted this? Certainly not her. It was not Melville’s inclination to include her in any of his activities – at least it had never been so before. Whatever it was, it was a welcome change from their stand-off under the tree or their tempestuous fight in the kitchen.
Fast broken, Avis and Melville walked to the stables – close enough for their sleeves to brush, but not close enough for either of their liking. A striking black horse was waiting, and Melville looked over at Avis, smiling.
“Do you like her?”
Avis paused, unable to comprehend his meaning.
“Is…she mine?”
Melville’s smile widened, his pleasure heightened by her joy.
“Only if you are pleased with her.”
Avis walked forwardly, timidly. The black horse was larger than she had ever ridden before, but it seemed gentle, allowing her to stroke its magnificent neck without jolting away from her in fear. Avis breathed out a sigh of contentment. Losing her horse after the invasion had meant the restriction of her freedom, a loss that had never been replaced. Richard had allowed her the use of his horses, but she had always been made to feel like an intruder. She had travelled away from her home fewer and fewer times, until eventually she rarely ventured far from the gardens and grounds. Finally, here was a way for her to reclaim her love of the landscape: by riding out into it on her new horse.
She turned around to face Melville. “She’s beautiful. What is her name?”
“As yet, she is not named. I only purchased her for you two days before, and have not had time to consider it. Why don’t you give her a name?”
Avis pursed her luscious lips, and walked around the mare, giving her a close examination. Melville was impressed to see that she obviously knew what she was doing. After prodding at her teeth, and checking her shoes for stones, she stroked the horse between the nose and the eyes, and smiled.
“You have a name?” Melville prompted.
Avis nodded. “Skydancer.”
“Tis an unusual name.” Melville had never heard a horse named in such a fashion, but Avis laughed.
“Maybe in Normandy! But we have a very different way of naming things here.”
“So I am learning.” Melville’s smile was so complete that Avis could not help but return it. Her gratitude emanated from her elegant features.
“Thank you, Melville.”
The sound of his name pouring like honey from her lips soothed a pain in Melville that he did not realise that he had. Satisfaction emanated from his face.
“I am glad,” he managed. “Would you like aid in mounting her?”
Avis grinned – a wicked grin that Melville had not seen on her before. She swung round and leapt upwards, mounting the horse with an ease that Melville had seen in no other rider. He laughed aloud in surprise.
“My, you are more adept than many of the King’s messengers!
You have kept your talent from me!”
Avis looked down at Melville. “You have not discovered all of my talents, my lord.”
And with that, she encouraged the black mare to gallop out of the stable yard, not waiting for Melville. He mounted his own horse, Storm, quickly, unwilling to let the flirtatious mood that Avis was in escape him. Two servants followed on stable horses with the food that the kitchen had carefully prepared. Melville quickly caught up with Avis, and brought his horse alongside hers.
“So what is our destination?” Avis questioned, tossing her long hair behind her as she increased the pace. Although she was still wearing her veil, she had taken to wearing a shorter version now, and it allowed the ends of her long tresses to fall down her back in natural curls.
Melville shrugged. “Where do you want to go?”
Avis brought her horse to a stop at the foot of the bridge, looking around her. Ahead of her, over the bridge, was the village that she was growing to know and love. To her left, the road to York which was dusty and uninspiring – but to her right, an unknown track that led around the edge of a dark forest, curving past it to new ground.
“What is beyond that forest?” she asked.
Melville pushed his horse forward, calling over his shoulder, “let’s find out!”
Avis’ sense of adventure and desire to explore was reawakened. Here truly was freedom! Pushing Skydancer into a gallop, she quickly overtook Melville who took the movement just as she intended it to be: as a challenge. Racing forward, they rode for miles, interchanging their speed but never able to converse in the rush of excitement and speed.
The cold breeze rushed past their ears and tore away Avis’ veil. Winter had sunk into the air, and instead of warm wafts it brought icy gusts – but when riding as fast as they were, it was difficult to tell. It blew behind them as they laughed, Avis shaking her head to release her brilliant long hair. Billowing out from behind her, she was transformed into the image of an Old Testament angel: beautiful beyond words but terribly powerful and not to be defied. Melville marvelled at her. She was truly captivating.
After an hour or so of intoxicating riding, they had travelled far enough along the track to see that behind the forest was another little village. Smaller than Ulleskelf, it was nevertheless formed of perhaps twenty or more dwellings, with a large church at the centre. Their two servants had not managed to keep to their frantic pace due to trying to rescue Avis’ veil. Melville and Avis therefore approached the settlement alone. Small children tottered out to see them, and Avis waved. Little grins and cries of, “my lady!” echoed behind them as they passed, and Melville slowed to a placid trot. Avis matched her horse’s pace to his, and they exchanged relaxed and contented looks. The enjoyment and love of riding was something that they both unknowingly shared, and their talent was equally matched.
“Now,” began Melville. “Where do you want to eat?”
Avis scanned the horizon, and saw a slight hill with a strange outline at the top. It created a shadow that was unusual, but not unknown. She smiled. She recognised that shadow.
“Yonder, upon that hill. From there we shall have a wonderful view of the area.” She pointed to where she meant, and Melville nodded.
After a couple more minutes of fast riding, they approached the hill. The closer they got to the summit, the more certain Avis was that the shape she had seen was what she had supposed, and when it came into clear view Melville started.
“A stone cross!”
Avis dismounted from the sweating Skydancer, and walked slowly up to it. Kneeling at its base, she dipped her fingers in the stream that she knew would be there, and crossed herself with the dripping hand. As she rose, she could see that Melville was keeping several paces back, in reverence and confusion at her actions. Avis smiled to herself. For probably the first time in their marriage, she was the one in control, certain about their situation. It was a heady, powerful feeling, and she revelled in it.
“These stone crosses were placed here by our ancestors,” Avis explained. “There were many in the south also, but the Normans have destroyed them as unwanted remnants of our ‘barbaric’ past.”
Melville looked at the stone cross. At over six foot high, it cast a long shadow across the summit of the hill. It had been carefully engraved with intricate figures and what looked like words – but not in any language that he recognised. The entire effect was heightened by the peeling paint that gave a coloured vibrancy to the grey stone. He had never seen anything so beautiful caught precisely between nature’s hand and man’s intent.
“It is incredible.” Melville breathed.
Avis smiled, happy that he appreciated a part of her heritage. She had always been afraid of the stone crosses as a child and their majesty, but since they had been removed from her home, she had missed them terribly.
“Are there not such things in your land?”
Their conversation the night before had awakened Avis’ interest in the land that had raised her husband. Her home had had such a strong impact on her, it was difficult for her to imagine the landscape of Melville’s childhood.
“No, indeed.” Melville returned her smile. “Such a thing is unknown to me.”
Melville moved forward, and copied exactly the symbolic ritual that Avis had just completed in respect to the holy place. She marvelled at his attention to detail, and his ability to understand something so quickly. There was a reverence in his actions that she was beginning to care for. When he had finished, he turned back to Avis.
“Food?”
Avis nodded, and the two servants who had watched their master and mistress in awe immediately began laying out covers onto the ground. Although not beyond comfort, the temperature was not high, and so the servants laid out some furs for Avis and Melville to wrap themselves in as they sat down.
Once the ground had been prepared, the servants began to take out various packages of different foods. Once again Melville had acted to please her, ordering her favourite foods to be included in the picnic meal, and making sure that she had everything that she would have – or could have – desired. The scent of the food wafted in the warm autumn breeze, and Avis’ mouth watered. The moment in the morning when they had broken their fast seemed a long time ago.
Settling herself down, Avis spread her gown around her, brought a large fur over her shoulders, and sighed happily. For her, there could be no greater joy than this: food, and the little sunshine that winter afforded, and the company of…she could not exactly discern her feelings for Melville at this moment, but she knew that the hatred that she had been clinging on to was irrevocably gone. She could not hate this man, any more than she could hate the sun for shining, or the wolf for hunting. What he did was from his nature.
Melville could not take his eyes from Avis. The sun glanced down on her hair, releasing a light from it that dazzled his eyes. The small space between them seemed enormous, and he dared not cross it. He was still unsure about her feelings towards him, and did not want to undo the good work that had hopefully been done the night before. His self-control, then as now, would be essential. Melville wished that he knew her thoughts about what he said – the words that had been so difficult to say but so necessary for her to know.
As they started to eat, Melville asked her more questions about the stone cross.
“From whence did they come?”
Avis could only relate to him the stories that her mother had told her.
“They say that giants once moved stones across the land for their own amusement, but after they left this world man tried to make their huge lumbering into beauty.”
Melville looked up at the strange stone monument as Avis continued talking.
“They are now an expression not of power, but of devotion. Of our love for God, and His love for us. We claimed them for our own, as God claimed us to love. And just as love keeps us all together, so our love brings greater beauty to these stone crosses.”
Melville turned to look at Avis as sh
e spoke.
“Love is a powerful force,” she finished. She gazed at him, delicate fingers absentmindedly curling around wisps of hair. Melville could not help but stare at her. She was so incredibly beautiful.
Avis saw a change in Melville as he looked at her intently. She dropped her eyes, unable to sit under such focus. She had never seen these sides of Melville – the carefree, spontaneous Melville, or the fascinated and intrigued Melville.
She looked away, and glanced at the people below. As she watched the children of the village at the base of the hill play in the sunlight, she shook her head gently. She should not have been so quick to judge him. No man is so simple as to be totally understood within a couple of months, and a couple of months at the most were all that they had had together. Avis knew that just as he had presumed to know her based on the stories and gossip told to him, she had assumed that she knew all about him from the fearful tales that she had heard. And they had both been wrong.
Turning to look around, she laughingly saw that Melville had kicked off his boots and was lying on his back, eyes closed, glorifying in the sun’s warmth that would soon be gone until the spring. He smiled at the sound of her laugh.
“And what is so amusing, my lady?”
“Why you, my lord!” She returned, smiling in return. “I do not think I have ever seen you in such a state of comfort.”