I'm not really sure what parts of the rest of the day to include.

There are so many things about that day that held no significance to me at the time, which I didn't even consciously note, until years later, as they were re-woven into the fabric of my life. Events that had an impact, affecting the person I have become. So many things that have meaning, though perhaps only to me. Many experiences that come from seeing the world as never before. It's like a baby trying to describe sight. There are things that happened that I haven't the words for, even now, these many years later. I think that those would be better presented in more detail than I presently possess and can impart.

Not all the tales are mine to tell. I wouldn't dream of telling about the incident of the Scotsman and his kilt. That story's Alan's and his is the best telling. The same goes for Johnathan and the story of the kissing bridge. I promise to try and convince them to share, should we ever have the occasion. (Or, maybe I can be convinced. I'm not above bribery. After all, every man has a price. Mine just happens to usually include chocolate.)

It may be best if I stick to my impressions at the time.

I would be remiss if I did not note that strange, if humorous, events continued to occur around me. I did not loose all of my shadows when I made friends with Alan and Johnathan. (I had left my prior companions, with their good will, and promises to meet them later in the day.) I do admit, however, that the other faces lost a large amount of interest to me. In all honesty, anything would have paled in comparison to the company I found myself in. I cannot think of a way to express how alive, how vibrant, and how, well ... tingly, my world became. Every look, every touch, every smell and color, had become more vivid. It was as if I had been reading by candlelight, when suddenly the power had come back on. Lightness had filled my world and soul. I was constantly surprised that sparks did not leap from my fingers, as they certainly raced through my veins.

The day wore on, the shadows lengthened, and the winds picked up, lashing my skirts to my legs, and without careful attention to my face. (I wasn't all that careful, as my companions were amused by my struggles.) My hair was whipping the breezes, and all that was not fixed down, became airborne. I was sheltered in Alan's and Johnathan's cloaks and arms, as we gathered the provisions for a meal.

We retreated to the small stream that cut its way through the Faire, sheltered in the lee of small rolling hills. There we found a world of peace, beneath the spreading branches of a large oak tree. Others had sought to escape the winds also, and the sounds of their laughter and voices made happy counterpoint to the rushing stream.

Beneath the tree, our meal was laid out: turkey legs and heavy red wine, fresh, cold fruit, tart apples, cherries by the handful, wedges of lemons and oranges, and even colder water. There was sourdough bread with sharp cheddar cheese. We had Shepherds pie and tryfle. The fed me luscious, red strawberries that had been dipped in chocolate, and insisted that I lick their fingers clean. I did so, slowly, suppressing laughter. I got into the spirit of the occasion after Johnathan demonstrated the proper technique for me. Laughter is not, properly, part of the mix. There was ale and wine in the cups of my companions, and mead in those of the passers-by, who would stop to share 'hearth and fire'. Sharing food, drink and story as freely, as we did with them. My two companions took turns feeding me by hand. I did a good turn back and found joy in the return.

After out repast Johnathan and Alan began to sing. Their rich voices floating on the air around me. We sat beside the running stream, our feet dipping in the cool rushing waters. I joined them in the choruses of the songs they sang to me. (Many of which included suggestive verses that I have never heard since, and I began to suspect that they were extemporized for my benefit.) Johnathan had a beautiful baritone voice, and Alan a strong tenor. I sang alto and tried to keep up.

As the daylight began to dim and loose some of its heat, I felt the world shift around me. I stood in the middle of the stream listening to the men singing behind me, the trills of the birds in the trees, the sound of voices, distant and near. Then in one instant, all of my illusions fell away. I was standing calf deep in the water, my skirts tucked to my waist, listening to the sound of Johnathan singing a soft ballad behind me. (They can't all be raunchy.) The strength of his voice as he sang, holding notes, reaching for others... His high notes gave me chills. The low ones inspired rushes of heat. The man had a beautiful voice.

But, that is when I noticed the light change, and I realized that the sun was now descending towards the west. It had become late afternoon, without my having marked the passing time. Having noticed that, my thoughts began to jump ahead, knowing that as the sun descended, the day would end. And with it my peace.

Johnathan had finished his song and fallen silent. I stood in the water thinking of the quiet, motionless days that awaited me. I was not a medieval wench in search of a good time. It came to me that I had spent an entire day playing make-believe. But not with the innocence that is usually assigned to that child's game. No, innocence had little to do with the day that I had just past. I was a young woman, who had by her actions, denied all that she professed to believe in and hold dear.

I was never going to be able to explain this to ... anyone! What would they think of me? Me. Normally so upright and righteous in appearance, at least to those who I did not let close. I was a straight arrow, more a cube than a square. (Okay so perhaps I exaggerate, but that was what I aspired to attain; That I should be godly and worthy of the mercy of god.) Even to those who were of my close acquaintance, how would I be able to explain? What should I say?

That I had spent the entire day in the arms and company of two men, who I barely knew? That I had learned more about lust and desire from one kiss, than I had in all time previous? And that that one had been followed by many others? Could I explain what I had discovered about life, and what it felt like to truly live?

Would they see through my rationalizations? That since I was someone else for the time, all that I had done was not unexpected or something that should not be held against me. How would I say that I had not lost contact with my usual world and life, but that I had decided to pay it no heed? That in the end, that regular life was of less account on the balance sheet than it should have been? That for the rest of the day, from that one defining moment, I had been free of all the restrictions that I accepted as part of my existence? Restrictions that I accepted as a sworn duty, and that by having done so had forsworn my self, not through accident, but by a conscious decision to do that which I ought not.

All of the thoughts that I had denied, about my accountability for my actions, began to flood back to me. For the first time in hours, I heard the voices around me, and paid them no notice. For a time I heard nothing, saw nothing, and still, to this day, remember nothing. And so I stood there, crying. The water from my eyes was joining that which swirled beneath me knees. Which washed away my illusions and all of the magic of the day, along with my tears. I began to mourn that loss of magic, as if a close friend had departed from my side, never to return. I was fortunate, in that my back was to the men in whose company I found myself. For the water that was falling from my eyes, which would not have gone unnoticed, instead joined the eddies around my feet.

I didn't mark a moment, until I heard Alan's voice, beginning a song. I do not know in which language he sang, nor have I been able to track down any record of the lament that he proceeded to offer. (Nor been able to make him tell me, either.) But as I stood a few feet away, far away at the time, I heard his tenor voice calling me. I stood still hearing it, the water from my eyes joining that which swirled beneath my knees. As his voice arched in sorrow and longing, so did my heart.

I stood still. And listened, listened to a lament so sad, that my aching heart was eased. Johnathan did not join him. Wondering why, I splashed some water on my face as I turned around. Not being given to tears normally, I was uncomfortable with their expression. I did not fool my friends, nor did I really seek to.

I walked away from the water, my heart still heavy, but not in danger of shattering for what I would loose come the end of the day. I sat down next to my new companions. Then lay on the ground and listened to Alan sing. His voice was soft, and not meant to carry, but strong none-the-less. His voiced supported longing and passion, and loss. Deep great loss.

Johnathan slid up next to me and rested my head in his lap. He tenderly stroked my hair, in the fading afternoon light. I stared up past him to the blue sky that was broken above me by the overhanging branches. I watched the clouds flowing from the west, carried over the hills by the winds.

His voice faded into silence. I do not know which pain was greater, the song, or hearing that final note fading away. I could feel my heart breaking again. I turned my eyes to him. He was not looking at me, but at the water and the reflections of the light upon it, and the leaves floating in it. Alan and I had come close to trading places. He stood beside the stream, his back tense, his shoulders bunched beneath the green linen of his shirt. His head was bowed with emotion. He was somber, for the first time in the whole day.

I gazed at his back and asked the question that I could have sworn I would not. ( But then, perhaps I would have. It appeared to be a day for doing that which I had sworn otherwise.) " Alan ... why did you choose this song? Why now?" Did I really have the right to that question? This seemed to be something deep with in him.

Not turning he replied, "Don't you know?" A question for a question. He walked back to Johnathan and I. He knelt beside us, also resting a hand in my hair. "What else could I offer you? Do not be sad, my love." His eyes then grew hot, and I now could place the emotion that had driven him to the water. In his eyes was anger, not the grief that I had suspected. "They had no right to ask of you that which you did not understand." He spoke clearly and without accent.

I looked up at him and my eyes grew wide. That was certainly not what I had expected. "How do you know about ..." After I spoke I realized that I, too, had disposed of the accent I had assumed. How could he know what I was thinking, feeling? How could he understand my life? I certainly had never been able to explain the way I lived to those outside of my church. Not even to family members that did not share my faith. Then I thought about what he had said to me. "No, Alan, it's not like that. I understood what I was doing."

He spoke quietly, with great force to his words. There were undertones of sadness and rage in his voice, "How could you? How could you know? Did you know what it would feel like when I kissed you? How you would react to my touch? Do you know what you do to me with just one look? How I can feel you near me? How aware were you of what you promised away, in hopes of other's approval? In hope of a future that you're not even sure will ever come about?

Are you really willing to cut your self off from your emotions and passions just because they don't fit into the neat little packages that your beliefs demand that they must?" His eyes searched mine. "They requested an answer from you, and you hadn't even defined the question. They had no right to and answer. And they have no right to hold you back from changing that answer now."

"I promised Alan, I promised to be honest to my word. I am bound to my beliefs. By my own choice."

"And if you never again feel as alive as you do this day? Are you willing to give it all up? For a hope that you are not even positive exists?" He had me there. I had beliefs. But faith? Faith had always been my weak point.

My carefully guarded weak point.

How could he know? I hid my doubts well, very well. How On Earth, "How could you know? Why did you sing that song? What ... I ... I don't understand." I spoke aloud, not realizing that I had even squeaked out that much. "How did you know?"

The anger left his eyes. He relaxed sagging beside me, as if the strings holding him up had been cut. The grief that I had expected before, now shown in his eyes. I saw more there than I thought eyes were able to say. His voice softened, losing its harshness, becoming gentle, "It's not so difficult ... when one has tread the same path. The song ..." he paused. "... I heard it long ago, though it feels like yesterday. Believe in what you do, not in what you have to." With that comment he leaned down and placed a kiss upon my lips. Not one of passion, just a kiss. Sweet, what he could say in a simple kiss. He then continued, " Do not despair, my love, it doesn't end. It will be your choice if you wish it to continue, but it doesn't end."

I looked up at Johnathan. I raised my eyebrows at him, looking for his input. He just smiled down at me, smoothed the hair from my face, and kissed my forehead, then my lips. A soft kiss meant only to comfort and confirm. He also spoke quietly. "It's not even over yet, sweetheart. There is still more to come."

Alan began to clean the area around us, picking up the scraps that the birds wouldn't eat. We joined him.

This page is hosted by Geocities. Get your own free home page!