“How is it different?” His voice was sympathetic.
“Well, the beginning is similar. I’m here in the pasture, in the dark, and the stars are just as intensely bright as before, but when they fall into my hands they fall right through them; I can’t hold on to them, and they tumble into the stream instead. I find myself looking down into the water, and the stars are lying there at the bottom of the stream, shining up at me.”
Gwydion felt the sadness in her voice seep into his heart. “Do you have any idea what it means, if anything?”
“Yes, I think so,” Emily replied. “I think I finally came to understand that all the things I had dreamed of seeing, and of doing, are not going to come to pass. That instead of seeing the world, and going off to study, and all the other marvelous adventures I had hoped to have when I was young, what actually will be my fate is what all my friends dream about—marrying someone of my father’s choice, settling down and raising a family here in the valley. In a way, I had hoped to do that, too, eventually; I love this land, and I could be happy here. But—I thought—” Her words slowed and she fell silent.
“Thought what?”
“I thought there was going to be more for me. I know that’s selfish and childish, but I had hoped that I would one day see the things and places that come to me in my dreams.
“I think the change reflects my acceptance that this is never going to happen. That in a few days I will give up those silly hopes. I’ll marry someone chosen from the lottery who, with any luck, will be kind to me, or at least not cruel, as some farm men are, and I will live and die here, never setting foot outside the valley. I guess I have known all along that would be the case. The dreams come even less frequently now. Soon I expect they will stop all together, and then I will forget them and get on with my life.”
Her words made his stomach turn. “No.”
“No?”
Once again the pragmatism descended, and the answer was inordinately clear to him. Gwydion sat up, cross-legged, and pulled her up with him. “Emily, what are the courting customs here? What protocol do I follow to avoid the lottery and ask your father directly for your hand?”
Emily’s eyes sparkled, then almost immediately darkened again. “Oh, Sam,” she said sadly. “He’ll never let me go with you. He has saved for my dowry since I was a baby, kept these middle pasturelands for it, just to assure that whoever I married kept me here in the bosom of the family. He’d never consent to you taking me away.”
Gwydion felt as if he would vomit. He couldn’t explain to her in words the urgency to get away from this place. “Then will you come anyway, Emily? Will you run away with me?”
She looked down at her hands. His throat tightened and his shoulders began to tremble as he waited for the answer. Finally she looked up, and the expression in her eyes was direct.
“Yes,” she said simply. “It would be a real waste of a wish not to, don’t you think?”
Relief broke over him like a spray of cold water. “Yes; yes I do.” He pulled her into a tight embrace, resting his hot cheek on hers. “Is there someone who can marry us in this village?”
Emily sighed in his arms. “There will be in a few days, after the lottery. Everyone will be marrying then.”
Gwydion pulled her even closer. He had no idea how long they could delay leaving, but the risk would be worth it. He resolved to wait, and not frighten her unnecessarily.
“Sam?”
He released her reluctantly, and sat back, looking at her with new eyes. When the sun had risen that morning, he had been totally free, and utterly alone; his life was that of other boys his age, with little thought of the Future, and little belief in it.
And now he was looking at his wife. He had always wondered what the other half of his soul looked like, and was delighted, and humbled, to see it was so incredible; he was actually amazed to know he even had one. The prospect of living by her side for the rest of his life filled him with a heady, if terrifying, feeling. In years to come, as he mourned her death over the endlessly passing days of his lifetime, he would think back to this moment and remember the way she had looked when he first saw her with his new eyes, eyes that still believed that life held a great measure of love for him.
“Yes?”
“Do you think we might see the ocean? Someday, I mean.”
At that moment he would have truthfully promised her anything she asked of him. “Of course. We can even live there if you want. Haven’t you ever seen it?”
“I’ve never left the farmlands, Sam, never in my whole life.” A faraway look came into her eyes. “I’ve always longed to see the ocean, though. My grandfather is a sailor, and all my life he has promised me that he would take me to sea one day. Until recently I believed it.” She looked into his eyes and saw a trace of sadness there, and quickly looked away. Innately he could see that the sorrow he felt for her made her sad for him instead. When she looked back, her eyes were shining as though she had thought of a way to make him feel better. She leaned near him, and whispered as if imparting a great secret. “But I’ve seen his ship.”
Gwydion was astonished. “How can that be, if you’ve never seen the sea?”
She smiled at him in the dark. “Well, when he’s in port, it’s actually very tiny—about as big as my hand. And he keeps it on his mantel, in a bottle. He showed it to me once when he came to visit.”
Tears stung his eyes. For all the famous and special people he had met in his life, he was sure that the purity of their collective souls couldn’t hold a candle to hers. He was unable to speak for a moment. When he did, he said exactly what his heart was thinking.
“You are the most wonderful girl in the world.”
She looked at him seriously. “No, Sam, just the luckiest. And the happiest.”
His hands trembled as he touched her bare arms. Their kiss was deep, and held all the promise of a nuptial blessing. For the first time it was easy for him, and the difficult part was bringing it to an end.
“Sam?” Her beautiful eyes were glistening in the light of the moon.
“Yes?”
“I have two things I need to tell you.”
He could tell from the smile on her face that neither would be difficult to hear.
“Yes?”
Emily looked down for a moment. “Well, the first is that if you kiss me again, I think we will end up consummating our marriage here, tonight.”
His trembling grew to an uncontrollable level. “And the second?”
She ran her hand down his face until it came to a stop on his shoulder. “I really want you to kiss me again.”
As if in a trance, Gwydion smoothed his cloak out on the ground, and Emily lay down on it. He sat back on his heels, looking at her for a moment, until she put her arms out to him. With a catch in his throat he eased down next to her and came into her embrace, hugging her as tightly as he could without hurting her. He held her like that for what seemed like a very long time, until her hair brushed the tips of his fingers, and he gave in to the desire he had had all night to touch it.
His hands ran down her hair over and over again, relishing the cool, smooth feel of it, like polished satin. Gwydion felt her hands slip into the circle his arms made as he held her, and begin to loosen the tie that bound his shirt closed. He shivered as she gently pulled the shirt loose from his trousers and slid her hands up his abdomen to his chest, where they came lightly to rest. The gesture gave him courage, and he closed his eyes as his lips sought, and found, hers. He could feel them trembling as much as his were.
The warm night wind blew over them, caressing their hair. Gwydion released her with one arm and leaned back, taking in the sight of her. There was no fear or embarrassment on Emily’s face, just a look of loving approval.
His eyes didn’t leave her face as his hand went to the bodice of her garment, taking the first tiny heart-shaped button between fingers that shook as though the wind were a wintry blast. As the material came apart beneath them his hands shook
even more, until on the fifth button they lurched in a spasm of nerves and tore the button loose from the lace.
Gwydion stared down at his hand in horror. “Emily, I’m so sorry,” he gasped, embarrassment flooding him and turning his face red as the setting sun had been. His panicked glance returned to her face to find her smiling in amusement. She took the button from him for a moment, turning it over in her hand.
“Aren’t they pretty?” she said, almost as if musing to herself. “My father brought them back for me from the city on his last trip as a birthday gift. I’m sure they cost far too much money.”
“Emily—” She stopped him by putting two fingers of her other hand on his lips. She replaced the button in his hand, closing his fingers around it.
“Keep it, Sam,” she said. “As a memento of the night when I gave you my heart.” She felt hot tears fall on the bare skin below her neck, and she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her chest. “It’s all right, Sam,” she said. “You won’t hurt me. Really. It will be all right.”
She was reading his mind again. Gwydion felt a wave of sureness crest over him, and he brushed the flimsy fabric out of the way, lowering his lips to the hollow between her breasts. With all the tenderness his young soul could muster he kissed her soft skin while his free hand gently slid the top of her frock off her shoulders and onto the ground beneath her.
His hand returned to the swell of her small breast, and with the slightest touch, his fingers caressed the pink nipple, followed by his mouth. As his lips touched the delicate skin she began to shiver, and the sensation swept through him, leaving him cold and burning at the same time.
Wonder filled his heart as the moonlight came to rest on her beneath the tree, illuminating her face that had been shining already without it. Her eyes glittered in the light, and he saw tears in them that matched his own. The look in those beautiful eyes was so certain, so sure, that to question what they were doing would have been to scoff at the magic they were both undeniably feeling. Gwydion’s lips returned to the breast he had laid bare, and his hands moved beneath the crinkly skirt. When they made contact with the warm skin of her legs he was afraid his excitement would give way there and then.
In turn she pulled awkwardly on the laces of his trousers, and then made some calculated adjustments. As the waistband came loose she pushed them down, freeing him from the restrictions that had been keeping him in check, and exposing him briefly to the wind. Gwydion shivered violently and moved closer to her, seeking her warmth. He leaned up over her and looked down. The expression in her eyes broke his heart.
“I love you, Sam,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long. I always knew you would come to me if I wished for you.”
Then slowly he was inside her, moving as gently as he could, trying not to lose control as he began to gasp in the throes of unimaginable pleasure.
Emily trembled beneath him, and her hands moved up his back, pulling him closer, drawing him in. He could hear her breath grow shorter; she tilted her head back and as she did his lips moved to her throat, kissing it gratefully. He was bathing her neck with tears, and he felt one of her hands leave his shoulder and move to his head, caressing it with a comforting motion.
When they were finally completely joined he lay above her, within her, motionless for a moment, afraid that if he moved or took a breath he would awake to find that this was only a dream. Even if it was, he was unwilling to let it end yet.
Emily’s other hand came to rest on the side of his head and she kissed him, imparting a wordless, loving encouragement. Then she began to move slowly, rocking him from below, wrapping one of her legs around his.
From the bottom of his toes Gwydion felt a exquisite heat rise, and with it came an insistent movement that matched hers, building the fire he felt in his stomach into a raging inferno that swelled within him and consumed his entire body. He lost touch with his thoughts and let them drift away on the warm night wind, concentrating instead on the rhythm of her heart beating beneath him and the delicate sounds she was emitting.
She whispered his name, or what she thought was his name, and the thrill of hearing it drove his excitement higher. The word became a cadence she repeated, spoken softly over and over as she began to grow warm and sigh with pleasure. The sound reached down into his heart, pushing him past the gates of control, and as the thunder rolled up within him he felt her begin to cry out, gripping him as an anchor as she was swept away by the same wave he was riding.
Time became suspended; how long he made love to her he couldn’t realistically gauge, having nothing to compare it with, but it seemed to last an eternity. With each passing second he felt the love in his heart for her expand until he was sure it had outgrown his body. He had expected this event to come much later in his life, and to be far less meaningful, so the shuddering sobs that consumed him when it was over took him completely by surprise.
“Sam?” Emily’s voice was alarmed as she pulled him nearer.
“Gods, did I hurt you, Emily? Are you all right?”
She kissed him tenderly, and then pulled back to look into his eyes. “Are you kidding? Did it feel like I was hurt?” She laughed, and the feeling shot through him like a hot bolt of lightning, running up his spine and resonating in his forehead.
He bent his head down over her shoulder, weak with relief. “Emily, I would never, never hurt you on purpose; I hope you know that.”
She look him straight on the eye. “Of course I do. Why would you ever hurt something that belongs to you? Because I do, Sam. I’m yours.”
He sighed. “Thank the gods.”
“No,” she said seriously, “thank the stars. It was them that brought you to me.”
Gwydion lifted his head with great effort and stared into the moonlit sky above him, sprinkled with grains of light like sand from a diamond beach.
“Thank you!” he shouted. Emily giggled, then sighed as he moved regretfully away and began to put himself back together. She adjusted her clothing as well, and as they finished dressing a look of disappointment came over her face. She turned toward the village, then back to him.
“That’s the Lorana waltz. We had best get back, the dance will be ending soon.”
Gwydion sighed. He would have been happy to stay in this field with her forever.
“Oh, all right,” he said.
He took her hand and pulled her up, then drew her into his arms and kissed her once more. When he looked at her face he saw no trace of regret, or second thought, just blissful contentment.
He put his cloak back on and lifted Emily off the ground, carrying her across the stream again, knowing that they were crossing the threshold of the place she loved, the place she thought of as home. He felt a twinge of sadness at the knowledge that their hasty exit would mean this was the last time he would ever carry her over that threshold.
They crossed the fields hand in hand, walking more slowly than they had coming here. When they crested the face of the hill, the grip of Emily’s hand tightened suddenly.
He turned to her anxiously. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, but I need to sit down for a moment.”
Gwydion took hold of her other hand and helped her to the ground, then sank worriedly down beside her. “Emily, what’s wrong?”
She gave him a reassuring smile. “Nothing is wrong, Sam. I just need to rest a minute.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, anything.”
“How old are you?”
“Fourteen. How old are you?”
She thought for a moment. “What time do you think it is?”
“About eleven o’clock, I would say.”
“Then I’m thirteen.”
Gwydion looked at her, puzzled. “Why does the time matter?”
“Because in an hour I’ll be fourteen, too, like you.”
Now he understood. “It’s your birthday?”
“Well, tomorrow.
”
He pulled her into his arms. “Happy birthday, Emily.”
“Thank you.” She grew very excited. “Wait; I have an idea! Do you want to come to supper tomorrow?”
Gwydion hugged her tighter. “That would be wonderful.”
She pushed out of his embrace, and he smiled at the eagerness on her face. “You can meet my parents and my brothers. Maybe if my father sees how happy I am with you he will give his consent.”
“What time?”
“Why don’t you come about five—we eat at six.”
He looked down at his dusty clothes regretfully. “This is all I have to wear, I’m afraid.”
Emily touched the material of his shirt. It was woven of a fabric finer than she had ever seen before, and the craftsmanship of all the garments was superior to even the needlework of the best seamstresses in the village. “This is fine,” she said simply. “I’ll show you my house on the way past.”
Gwydion was rummaging around in his pockets. He pulled out his pouch, and looked inside it. There was nothing that would make a suitable gift, and he doubted there would be any merchant in the village from which to purchase one. He took out the five gold coins he had brought with him on his way to the market, and put them in her hand.
“This is all I have; it’s not much of a gift, but I want you to have something from me tonight.” Tomorrow he would search the pasturelands for the most beautiful flowers he could find.
Emily’s eyes widened in amazement, and a look of horror came over her face.
“I can’t take this, Sam—this is as much as half my dowry.” She turned one of the coins over and stared at it. The face minted on it was that of the prince of Roland, a land that would not exist for another seven centuries. She took his hand and opened the palm, returning the coins. “Besides, if I come home with that, my parents will think I’ve been doing something terribly wrong.”