Skip to main content

For Caerleon

"I have let down the blood in several places, and applied the dressings to the wounds. Keep them in place for an hour. He will be comfortable now, but he will not last the night." He touched her shoulder briefly, as he continued shuffling down the great hall, letting himself out.
She rushed to the windows and looked into the early evening light.
Something was so good about these lands. Something so good, it overwhelmed her sometimes. Made her sick to her stomach.
And they are to be mine now.....
She didn't want them.
Of course she didn’t. She was only seventeen, and she had never left the walls of Caerleon. She wanted to rebel, to be free.
She had wept on her father's chest for the last three nights in a row, but not for his coming death.
"Find a husband," he had croaked out his solution, while he smoothed her hair away from her face.

She had almost left Caerleon once. When the dark-haired stranger had shown up in town. He had slept with the horses like any other wanderer passing through. He was one of the few who had ever dared speaking to her, not caring about his place in the world. "Want to go for a ride, lady?"
Startled by his request, she agreed before she realized the improperness of it all. But soon the rides became daily occurrences; the horses frolicking through the sun-streamed canopy of trees.
He spoke to her of another life, another time, a little hut and tamed animals and working the land with his hands.
She said, "I want to come home with you."
And he replied, "I can never go home. The Romans would find me. But we can give ourselves a new home just like it."
She believed him, and they would laugh and dance and jump in the excitement of their love. He would kiss her hand. And then her lips.
Then they would make their plans of escape.
But the lands were invaded the night before they were to depart, and he had taken up the sword for Caerleon. Saving the day. So impressed her father had been, he made him leading commander for his army; wiping out her chance for freedom. But not love.
"Here; I have found everything I have ever wanted to be," he whispered in her ear.

She mourned for three days after her father’s death, before addressing the people of Caerleon. Meeting them out in the street, they soothed her soul with soft murmurs; taking turns to touch her hands, and she soothed theirs with her words. "I promise you Caerleon will always be as it always was."
And they cheered accolades for her and the land.
But she had only told them half the truth.

Comments

~AprilD said…
I feel for her. She felt like she had no choice. A woman in those times couldn't just go away, and in the end she had to stay for Caerleon. And it wouldn't always be as it always was because she would never be the same. I loved it Q!
wiseling said…
Touched a nerve, you did. Beautifully written, as always.

Popular posts from this blog

The Village Itself

Across the road from my home is an apartment building. It is made of brown brick and has three stories. It also has plenty of windows I often forget about while I go about my daily and nightly routines. I also forget my curtains are white, lacey and see-through scraps purchased from an aisle in Wal-Mart. Fifteen apartments. That may all house people with binoculars. It was the muggiest night this past summer had owned. Brenda was down for a visit and when she comes, it usually means a night spent over on my couch for her. Brenda lives in another town. It was one in the morning, no sleep to be found between the two us. We sat slouched on my front porch trying to capture the occasional breeze offered, sucking it deep into our lungs, praying it would cool us down. Our glasses of Pepsi sweated warning us how warm the drink would taste in our mouths. "Tilly! Tilly!" the shout sat our spines straight as we looked across the street to the where the sound was coming fr...

What If I Need Them Again Someday

"I am leaving," she said, but he got to them first. "Give me my keys," she smiled sweetly at him. Damn. She still wanted to smile at him. He laughed and smiled right back. "Not a chance." "I don't want to be here," she replied. She meant it. "Give me my keys." "But I already took back everything I gave you. You're shit out of luck." He laughed, right in her face. She had agreed he could have it all back if he wanted, afterall, she knew. And it had not bothered her. Even though she would really miss the Guns n' Roses album. It had not bothered her too much. To give back the things he had gave her. She had not even thought of her car. Or the fact that he owned half of it. So while he laughed, she shook her head and when he was done, she said, "It does not matter. I did not own a car six months a go. I know how to get around this town." She reached down for the coat; near her feet. She put it on. ...

Rosy Cheeks

My son's circle and lined wall, created with the permanent red marker, became something he liked to show-off. I guess the other kids who come here liked it, too.   I guess he wanted to show-off more. That is one of the many hypothesis I have about how the Map of Africa came to be. I just keep hoping my kid is some kind of odd little genius.  On the morning I discovered the map of Africa, I was not speechless and I could breathe. "What is this?" I demanded. And loudly. My son shrugged his shoulders. "I like it. It's nice. Took a long time." He had chipped paint off the wall. His walls are white. That morning, it was discovered his room used to be beige.   And it was starting to look like a room in an abandoned house. I thought to myself that maybe this look would be the in thing  20 years from now and he could make millions. He could be a visionary. It was a good enough excuse for me to leave the room. I used it...