Love is the reason!

Clip clop! Clip clop! Clip clop!

The rider tried to persuade the horse to quicken its pace… but to no avail. It had been travelling since dawn, now darkness rushed to takeover the earth, from the sun which had long bid adieu! The slouching traveler desperately trying to keep his cape wrapped close, in a bid to outdo the cold, clammy fingers of Winter, invited sympathy.

He was in a hurry to reach his destination. It was a promise made long ago. A gentleman’s promise. It had to be honoured at all costs. Nothing could keep him away… not the hundreds of miles, not the pressing demands of his work nor the ridiculously inclement weather.

His heart had long beaten outside his body, and it beckoned him now. Like the Lighthouse in a storm, the beacon of love guided him on his foolhardy course. She had opted to be Lady Grosvenor instead of a middleclass housewife, but what could he do about his heart? He had given it to her, nay lost it to her long ago… with nary a control over it.

He wondered what could she want from him? After twenty long years, why would she send for him? It was strange, devilishly thrilling that the ostentatious aristocrat, the Lady Rosalind Grosvenor, should remember him and positively electrifying to be summoned to her court, post haste! Did she still remember the flames of passion from their youth?

Clop! Clop! Clop!

Stumble! Crrrassh!

The rude stumbling of the tired steed caused him to unceremoniously be unsaddled. Tumble, tumble, clunk! Landing on the frozen ice bank was enough to bring him out of his reverie and onto mother earth.                                    “Sorry Beauty! I need to think of you too! Lets find an inn and turn in for a well-earned rest. Shouldn’t be too far, tomorrow.”

Looking around, he could see some light beaming out of what looked like a ramshackle home not too far from where he stood on the wagon trail. The charm of golden light streaming from windows on a cold and freezing evening is like a warm embrace of a lover. His feet trudged on as if they had a mind of their own. Beauty was relieved at the prospect of some rest, and some food, maybe a drink of fresh water.

Knock! Knock!

Silence!

Knock! Knock! Knock!

… shuffle, shuffle, shuffle…

The dark oak door creaked open, unveiling a silhouette of an elderly person, stooped with age or illness or probably both. Well, he need not worry about it as long as he could get some respite from the long day’s travel.

“Who is it?” “Is it you Peter? My Darling Peter!”

Nonplussed the traveler tarried awhile, wondering what to say.

“Come in, come in Love! Its nasty out there. You could not refuse your heart’s call, could you now? You had to come when your love called you, isn’t it?” She laughed.

Walking into the warm and cosy cottage, glowing in the warmth of the roaring fire blazing in the fireplace, with the rocking chair beside still rocking to and fro, he could not think of when he was welcomed more warmly, in his life before. Like a puppet he found himself drawn to the rocking chair before he remembered his poor horse.

“Is there a barn where I could rest my horse?”

“Ah yes! Right behind the house… Give him plenty of straw, his hide is smoking, you have ridden him hard, haven’t you?”

Such uncanny observations took him aback for a moment, but he brushed it aside as he took his second dearest love, to be warm and dry. The barn was small but cosy, there was plenty of hay to keep Beauty happy. He found a trough and could give him a good drink too. The saddle and blankets were laid out to dry (as much as they could).

Returning to the warmth of his hostess, he settled down, remembering in time to step out of his shoes and damp cloak. Carefully placing them around the hearth he plonked himself on the mesmerizing chair. The comfort of sitting on a plump cushion after the hard saddle all day… She was saying something, he was trying to follow it, but his mind was far away ensnared in memories of a long-lost love, and his body was screaming it was in pain, physically.

The kind lady handed him a warm glass with a hot broth. His frozen fingers greedily sucked the warmth as the broth went down his throat, slowly lifting the shackles of the icy cold weather. Once revived, he looked around letting the eyes drink in the elegance of the sparse but homely room.

He looked at the profile of the lady in the only other chair in the room. A grey head without a bonnet, a chubby face with roses and peach complexion, sharp aquiline nose, in an old dress under a neat apron. But those eyes, they were disturbing. Like a cat’s grey green and could look straight into one’s heart.

“So, who are you running to meet, in such a hurry, in such foul weather?”

“What makes you think that madam?”

“ I can see love and lust smouldering in your heart…”

Now he could feel the blood rushing in his veins, but hooded his eyes, lest she read more in them… the tattlers!

She lit a candle and placed it in front of her and peered into the flame, her incantations soothing, rather than causing concern. As he watched the kind face, with its kind eyes, warm glowing skin and smiling mouth, it seemed to undergo a sea change, turning stony and distant. The halo of comfort was replaced with one of terror… it went straight to his heart. As the palpitations increased, so did the flow in his veins, with an increase in his breathing. The vein in his temple throbbed and he could feel the panic about to burst through his eyes.

“Stop! Stop! What do you want?”

“ I can see a very pretty woman, and a rose… but she is not yours… you should stay away from her, it will bring great tragedy to her… even your shadow should not touch her!”

“But I love her… and she loves me… she sent for me herself… after so many years… she must be needing me. Her soul is pure as a rose, as fragrant, as beautiful!”

“Pray do you dare to name her?”

“ Nay, I cant besmirch a gentle soul, a lady of high reputation. What should I do?”

“ Go back where you came from. Stir not the stream and make it muddy!”

As he opened his eyes in mortal terror, he felt the gaze of an executioner… oh how could he, so close, yet to part hope again? When he could have held her once more and kissed her to his heart’s content. Would he have to go back to his wretched existence?

“So be it madam!”

In the middle of the night the woman watched from behind her curtains as the traveler and his horse trudged back the path they had come.

…………

“So, what did he say? Did he say he loves me still? Tell me you witch!”

“Yes, my Lady. He loves you more than the sun and the moon and will not let your name be sullied!”

“Ha, ha …. Fancy that… after a lifetime! He has cleared his test and now I shall make him rich! Now we shall both enjoy the life we richly deserve. The old man took so long to die!”

Love is such a strange reason!

Photo by Emily Toycen on Unsplash for representation!