It had been two more days of traveling. The weather was cooler--almost too cool at night. They had taken to walking most of the night, so as to keep warm, and sleeping during the day. While they slept, Mark would put his arms sturdily around Delia, so that she needn’t fear anything. While they walked, he supported her as best as he could around the waist. They ate what they could find in the wood, but it was not nearly enough, so that both of them were hungry and tired from sleeping on the hard floor of the forest. It was nearing nightfall and they had been walking for nearly an hour, when they saw in the distance a red glow, which appeared to be a fire. Mark held out his hand to stop Delia, and pressed his finger to his lips so that she would not venture to say anything. Finally, Mark perceived that the fire was distant enough that he could safely whisper.
"Delia…should we see who this fire belongs to?" At just the mention of a fire he perceived Delia give a slight shiver; he had noticed when they awoke that her dress was damp with dew. The weather had been too damp of late for the forest floor to ever properly warm up. "Whatever you think…" Delia answered, looking up to Mark sure that he would know what to do. Mark was also very hungry and worried that Delia suffered even worse, for she didn’t seem to eat her half the share of what they gathered, claiming that she was not that hungry. "Perhaps we might see who it is. No harm can come of it this far from Christianium" "True."
So they approached the fire, Mark making a good deal of noise so as to announce their arrival, not wishing to startle whoever it was. As they came closer, it became clear that this was a small camp made up of some fifteen people. They ranged in ages and were both men and women. Mark knew nothing of bands of travelers and could not think as to what they would be doing. One of the middle-aged men stood up as they came closer and called out to them: "Who approaches?" Mark took Delia’s hand and stopped, saying, "it is Mark and my wife, Delia…we know no one in these parts and have traveled for days…may we come towards the fire? That is all we request." As they were clearly outnumbered, the man saw no real problem in letting them come to the fire, and thus he nodded assent. More people stood up, including women, who were just as curious as the men to see these two new young people. Travel was dangerous and travel in such small numbers was nigh unheard of. Delia clung close to Mark’s side, and thought to herself that she was very glad that he had told these strangers that he was her husband.
They came into the soft glow of the fire, and some came forward to shake their hands, introducing themselves at the same time. The women noticed the fine clothes that Mark wore and the dress of Delia, which although plainer than Mark’s tunic and torn at the skirts from the forest, was far nicer than anything any of them wore. The men noticed how attractive Delia was. "Where you coming from?" ventured the man who had asked their names upon their approach. Mark assumed that this man must be in charge. Mark was too afraid to truthfully answer, and so he gave the most general answer he could: "from south of here, although I couldn’t say exactly, as we haven’t taken any roads." One of the older women asked with a keen smile, "newly married?" Delia looked to the ground embarrassed not by the lie, but by something else she could not name. Mark quickly nodded ‘yes.’ "Well, we are merely a group of traders…we have stopped here for a day and night, and if you can help us in anyway, you are welcome to find rest by our fire." "Thank you. Your kindness will be remembered," Mark said, and realized how different his speech sounded from theirs. Not only were they dressed more simply, their speech was simpler and had a thick accent, which Mark could not place.
They sat as close to the fire as they could get, a part of the circle of traders. A woman probably five years Delia’s elder sat next to Delia and offered them some bread and beer. Delia and Mark gratefully accepted; Delia, tearing the bread into two uneven halves, gave the greater portion to Mark. Delia drank first from the rough cup full to the brim with cold beer. "You’re from the South?" the woman asked as Delia swallowed. Mark had let go of her hand to eat, and Delia was almost startled by the sound of the woman’s voice. "Oh, yes. Yes, we are." "Ye be very pretty," the woman said, smiling. Delia was shocked by the compliment and blushed, and she quickly looked at Mark, but he was busy eating and had not heard the woman’s words. "Thank you…what is your name?" "Oh, I’m Alice, John’s wife," she nodded at one of the thinner and younger men in the crowd, who had now gathered on the far side of the fire. "We, my husband and I that is, we make pottery…we carry our tools with us and make the pottery right there in the towns on market days. They‘re easier to transport that packs full of pottery."
Delia nodded smiling…she knew something of traveling traders, having lived in town her whole life and her father being a merchant himself. "I heard your husband be saying that you all are newly married. He is a fair catch as well." "Oh!" Delia said blushing even more brightly than before. "Me husband and I, we be married for years now, but I haven’t any little ones. Suppose you haven’t had the chance yet, yourselves." Delia could only manage to turn her head back and forth in wordless response.
As they finished eating their bread and Mark drained the rest of the beer, John, Alice’s husband approached. He came to ask if Mark would join him in looking for some wild game for the morrow’s breakfast. Alice made introductions: "John, this be Delia and Mark, but course you know that already. I shared some of our bread with them." "Aye, I be seeing that you did such Alice, and I thought they seemed like good natured folk. I thought I’d ask if you would be willing to help me out, my being so bad at a hunting for game." "Aye, that he is," Alice said laughing. "I’m afraid I won’t be of much help, but," Mark said turning to Delia "if you’ll be all right?" Delia nodded ‘yes’ even though her lips began to tremble at the thought of his leaving. "Then, I’d be glad to help repay your wife’s kindness."
The two young men began to walk into the forest, and John stuck out his hand to be shaken by Mark. "Truth be told, your repayment will be as much in company as in hunting. Seems like I get to talk with very few men like ye other than while trading." ‘Ah, and what kind of man do you think I am?’ Mark thought to himself, but did not say aloud, not wishing to be closely questioned. "Might I be saying that ye wife is a pretty little poppet? As sweet as anything, I bet as well." Mark was surprised to hear anyone speak of a woman in this way--especially as he was addressing the man who was supposed to be her husband. It seemed as if the man meant no harm, however.
"I had nothing to do with it, I assure you," Mark said thinking of an old saying the brothers’ had about physical beauty. "Nay, but ye profit from it mightily." They walked along for awhile, and John began again, as he stooped down, looking at something on the ground: "I, as well as the others of us I’m sure, anyone with eyes, could see that ye be all just newly married. If ye hadn’t been, there would be plenty of little ones I’d be sure with one like her!" he said, beginning to laugh good-naturedly. Mark turned his head embarrassed, and he wondered that John ever caught anything with all the noise he made. "Aye!" John exclaimed, "ye must be newly married, as I seen the color come to you just then at the mention of the married life. Aye, I remember me and Alice’s wedding night at her family’s home," John said trailing off in reverie.
Just when Mark thought the unmeaning torture was over, John began again: "Goodness then! What be ye doing traveling so soon married and with such a poppet as she? I wouldn’t be leaving so soon as that!" Mark saw that John expected some answer, and began to say in what he feared sounded like a stammer, "we had no other choice, and then…it hasn’t been an ideal beginning to a marriage. I haven‘t the sort of memories you allude to." Mark just wanted to put an end to the discussion through this avowal.
John seemed just about five years Marks’ elder, but Mark had considered that he might look older than he was. If John had been less mature and of a cruel nature, he would have ribbed Mark as soon as he perceived that Mark and Delia were not in the official sense married, instead he put his hand on Mark’s shoulder and patted him in comradeship. "Well, just running off like that…I understand then. No, a fine woman like that, no that wouldn’t be right here…aye…" Seeing that John was a good man, Mark almost wished he had the courage to further pursue the very topic which only last night had occurred to him as one which was very troubling.
That night, once everyone was settling down, Mark glanced around and saw that couples were getting underneath heavy blankets together and would soon begin to act as all married people did once the fire had further died down. They had been lent blankets by one of the traders who carried wool blankets and other wool goods, and Delia was only thinking how good it would be to sleep not directly on the ground and in such warmth. She saw Mark kneeling hesitantly by the edge of the blanket that she was arranging evenly on the ground.
"Mark," she said stretching out her hand for him to take it, "did you like John?" He came to sit by her as she finished the straightening of the blanket. "Yes, he was a genuine man, but very different from what I’m accustomed." "Oh, well, they aren’t nearly as learned as you are, but they’re very kind…think of them just taking us in like this." "Oh, no, I know," he said leaning over to kiss her on the forehead. "How good it feels to be full, and we shan’t wake up cold and wet either." Mark marveled at how well she looked in the dying light of the fire, but he could not feel entirely at peace. He felt miserable that she was here at all, never mind how they had been living until they came upon this band, so he pressed her hand to his chest, and said quietly, "I’m sorry." "Sorry for what, Mark?" "You deserve more than this…I don’t know what I was thinking." "Oh! Mark, no don’t say that! Only think that we can be together at all. Only think of that Mark! Don’t ever wish this away, please."
Mark saw that this only upset her, and so he pulled her closely to him against his chest. He felt goose bumps on her bare arms, and realized that it was still too cold for her without being covered by the wool blanket. He released her and pulled back the top blanket kissing her again on the forehead. "Here, you’re cold, get underneath." Delia crawled underneath and smoothed her skirts as Mark pulled the blanket back over her. "Mark?" "What is it?" "Why aren’t you…? Aren’t you coming to bed?" "Oh, well…" Mark wanted to lay on top of the blanket, or rather he wanted to lie underneath next to Delia, but was shy around all these people he didn’t know. But then looking at Delia he thought he could see tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She began to say very softly, "Mark, tell me if something is wrong…is that what you were trying to tell me just then?"
Mark gave no reply; instead he slipped underneath the blanket, feeling ashamed that he seemed to be unable to do what was right for her, no matter what he tried. It was warm under the heavy wool blanket and Mark took Delia in his arms as they usually slept, and kissed her wordlessly first on the forehead and then softly on the lips. "Oh, Mark, I love you." "I love you too, Delia, more than anything. You’re my world. Please, sleep well tonight, and don’t have any more worries for now." "Only if you do the same," she said, kissing him back gently.
XIII
In the morning, the group of traders packed up their camp and continued on, but in a different direction than Mark and Delia. Mark and Delia considered that they could travel during the day, since the wool trader had given them the wool blankets, so they could sleep at night without being too cold. They also carried away with them a new satchel in which Mark could carry their blankets and some food they had also been given. A man carrying shoes had given more appropriate shoes to Delia, and Mark thought silently to himself that it was only because of Delia’s beauty that they were given so many gifts.
"How lucky we were to meet with them! And what kind people too…I can’t even believe how kindly they treated us--complete strangers." "It was a boon to be sure." He took her hand and helped her over a log, but once over it he did not withdraw his grip. "Oh, Mark…wasn’t it…I thought it was nice, if only pretending, to say that we were married." Mark looked at her seriously and stopped walking, taking both her hands. "Delia, you know that I want to marry you, and I would, I would honestly if I could. But, we haven’t the money to have the service performed, and I’m still afraid of being found out." "No, I know. Yet, I’m glad to know that you wish to marry me, even if we never can." Mark shook his head, "no, I’ve been thinking, I mean, I think that if…" He paused having become flustered. "Delia, I know that there are people who live like man and wife after having given each other their word of honor. And they are not condemned by the Church, so long as they live together as a good Christians would…never separating."
Delia blushed prettily and turned her head away. "Delia, I…I don’t want to do anything you would find wrong…" "Mark, are you asking me to be your wife?" "Yes, yes I am." He leaned down closer to her, and she smiled shyly: "When I first saw you on the road by Christianium, I thought you were the handsomest lad that I’d ever seen, and yet I knew you could never marry, and I thought that the greatest shame." Mark kissed her lips, half-smiling at the same time, and finally pulled back. "Then you will?" "Oh, yes…I want to be your wife, Mark, very much." Mark gathered her up in his arms, lifting her right off the ground and kissing her on her cheeks and then her lips. He set her back down, and she laughed gaily. "And we shall be so happy, Mark! I know it." "Yes, together, my sweet." Delia blushed at the term of endearment, but moved to take his hand again as they began to walk on.
***
As the day waned, nothing could serve to bring down the lightened spirits of the two lovers, and yet Mark felt as if something must be said or done to make them truly man and wife. Thus, when they stopped to eat their supper meal, he questioned Delia as to what she thought they should do: "Delia, since we shan’t have a real ceremony, what should we do?" "Ah, about marriage you mean then?" she asked, visibly glowing at the renewal of the subject for the first time. "Yes. Do you know of anyway in which this type of thing might be handled?" "If we are to plight our troth without a priest, I believe we should exchange vows--that’s my understanding of it." "Then we should, unless you would like to wait?" "Right here while we’re eating? And I not even fit to be seen!" Mark laughed at Delia and kissed her cheek, stroking the other soft one with the back of his hand. "Whatever you would like and see fit." Delia looked about her, and Mark assumed she was appraising it for worthiness. "What if we stopped for the night here, and walked no further? We could have a proper exchange of vows then, but not this very moment mind you." Delia began to blush again and seemed to lose her appetite, but Mark handed the canister of wine to her, urging her to drink again, as he did not wish her to grow tired. "Thank you."
Delia tidied up herself as best she could, taking pains to wash her face, dust her skirts, and remove her cap, which Mark seemed to like. She arranged her hair simply in two braids originating from the sides of her head and roping back down together into one larger braid and eventually becoming immersed in the rest of her thick dark hair. Mark was trying to think of the best words suited for such an event without making them too religious, as they were well outside the bounds of the Catholic church as he knew it. Meanwhile, he tried to make a more comfortable bed for them to sleep on than they usually bothered with. He piled leaves up against a large nook in a tree, which spread above their heads for what seemed like miles. He unpacked their heavy blankets as well and unfolded them on top of the impromptu bed he had created. They were miles away from any roads or paths, and they seemed as alone in the world as the first man and woman.
The sun was setting, and Delia came over to take his hand. "Have you thought of what to say?" "I think I have, yes. You only need to repeat back to me what I first say to you. All right?" "Yes, I can manage that." "Of course you can," he said once again kissing her head. "Come, let’s stand over here," he said, drawing her to a large break in the coverage, where the reddish light of the sunset illuminated the forest floor. "I want to be able to see you clearly." Mark’s words made Delia blush, and he took both of her hands and earnestly looked into her eyes.
"I take you, Delia to be my wife, as I shall be your husband, dedicating myself body and soul to you." Mark had wanted to say this and then wait for her response, but he couldn’t help himself--he quickly pressed his lips against hers. Delia was surprised by Mark’s action, as he still seemed to be nervous with her about such things, and therefore, at such a moment she had thought he would have hurriedly said what was needed. "I take you, Mark, as my husband, and I shall be your wife, dedicating my mind, body, and soul to only you," Delia repeated with only some variation on what Mark had said. It was clear to Mark, looking into her eyes that she meant every word of it. Mark then kissed her again, this time pulling her closer. "Forever," he added. "Forever," whispered Delia. "And I shall have no others, being true to you as my wife." "And I shall be true to you as my husband, having no others." He pulled her so close that they were now more hugging than standing apart, and Delia laid her head on Mark’s chest, saying, "Oh, I love you so much, Mark." "I love you, Delia, and this is so much more than I could have ever hoped for." He stroked her head, smoothing her hair and then softly kissing the crown of her head.
As the night ran on, they sat by the small fire Mark started, and Delia prepared some dried fish that they had been given. Mark was drinking out of the keg of wine, and feeling a bit sleepy, when Delia leaned over him and bid him to try the fish. She continued to hold the bite in her hand, instead of handing it over to him first, and hesitantly he took the offered food from the tips of her fingers, only lightly brushing them with his lips. "It’s pretty good, isn’t it?" Mark answered by nodding ‘yes,’ and finished swallowing. He considered that after the initial awkwardness of having her break off pieces of the fish and feed it to him wore off that this actually made the whole meal more pleasant. In this way, Delia and Mark ate their meal, and then both cleansed their palates with more wine.
Mark tended to the fire that was little more than glowing embers, so that it would not cause a problem during the night, and Delia, feeling sleepy herself from possibly too much of the strong wine, crawled onto the makeshift bed Mark had created earlier. She covered a yawn behind the back of her hand. She waited to completely lie down until Mark came over and sat down, and then she rested her head on his chest and sighed, "this is so comfortable that I’m nearly asleep as I speak!" "I know, sweet dear. Lay down. You needn’t stay awake any longer." He turned his head and kissed the crown of her dark head. "As long as you are awake, that’s the way I want to be, Mark." "That is kind of you, but I shall go to sleep when you do as well. There won’t be any reason for me to be awake when you aren’t. Now come, lie down, and then I’ll pull this blanket over you." Delia obediently lay down and Mark pulled the cover up around her chin. He joined her underneath the covers, putting his arms around her and pulling her tightly against him.
Delia, as tired as she was, silently lay still in Mark’s arms until she could feel his breath slow to the point where she knew he was asleep. She softly kissed his cheek, not wanting to wake him. She tried to control the softly flowing tears, which had begun to sprout as soon as Mark had taken her in his arms and become motionless. Delia, although a largely innocent girl of still only fifteen, knew enough about marriage that she realized that they were acting like a normal married couple. Yet, even though this disturbed her and caused her to feel pain, she knew that the origin of this aberrance was not in that he did not love her less than he should or find her unappealing. He was the product of a culture where such acts were not only strongly prohibited, but also worthy of damnation: the fact that he was no longer a monk probably did not quickly change his feelings or make him particularly eager. And so she tried not to cry, to remember where he was coming from, and to trust that someday everything would be as it should be.
Little did Delia know how much the very thought was torturing Mark. At every turn, he convinced himself that this would be the night, the moment, the time at which he would do what was right and in the eyes of the Church make this a true marriage. And yet he could not, paralyzed by the feelings that churned within him, making him unable to even show much affection past the soft kisses he granted to her. Mark was of an innocent nature that was entirely irregular for a man his age, especially a married man. He felt that he could never say anything to Delia, trusting in her innocence as well, and yet there was no one else whom he could tell, question, or trust. If people knew they had only given each other their word and had not consummated their marriage, it would put Delia in danger from the attentions of other men. Yet, Mark kept quiet and did nothing to make progress towards the completion of their union.
