The Silver Falcon (21 page)

Enid nodded and blushed. Unchaste thoughts rushed into her mind and then filled her with shame. Some time before, she had watched a couple of lovers in the forest, and since then she had longed to lie with a man. They had done it like animals and enjoyed it. Why shouldn’t she try it with this stranger? He had gentle eyes and beautiful, strong hands. He seemed like the right one.

When William walked past her without another word, she was gripped by naked fear. She couldn’t let him go. Unlike the other men she had seen in the forest up to now, she really liked this one.

That morning, he had asked for a bucket of water and washed thoroughly. She had turned away to prepare some food, but she had watched him out of the corner of her eye. Although he must have been starving for some time, it was clear from his body that he had known better times.

He was young, probably younger than she was herself, and no older than David. He would recover quickly and would certainly make a good companion. He represented no danger to her; on the contrary, he represented a temptation.

Enid was lonely and no longer wanted to be alone with David all the time. She wanted to hear William talk and hoped, if he stayed, that he would tell her stories about the world beyond the forest, about which she knew next to nothing. Yes, he would talk to her and make her laugh. She was sure he liked laughing; she had seen it in his eyes.

Now that he was leaving, she feared it might really be forever. So she followed him secretly to the stream. Not far from the place where she had found him, he stopped. She hid in the undergrowth and watched William remove his clothes, spread them carefully on a stone on the bank, and then wade into the glittering water, stark naked. His behind was round like a little apple, and she found it exquisitely attractive. The stream was so deep here that William was soon standing hip deep in rushing water. Warmth flooded through Enid in a wave, and a pleasant tingling sensation ran from her belly down between her legs.

The refreshing water felt extraordinarily good. Cleansing for body and soul, thought William, stroking his cheeks pensively. He did
shave his beard from time to time, but its growth was rather weak. Still, it would do him good to get rid of the stubble that had grown during his imprisonment. But first he would have to sharpen his knife.

His time in the castle dungeon had damaged more than his body. William was well aware that his confidence had suffered, too, and that it was important to regain it. Robert had told him that he’d spent only two months in that noisome hole, but that had been enough to drive him to the edge of despair. How long a few weeks could feel when the situation felt hopeless.

His flight had cost him a great deal of strength. William still felt weak and would have been all too glad to stay with the kind young woman and her simpleminded brother. But the two of them probably had barely enough to eat themselves. He had certainly been unable to find much that was nourishing on his way through the forest. His body rose up in goose bumps as he thought of the mushrooms and the cramps they had caused.

William waded a little farther into the stream, scooped water over his upper body with his right hand, and opened up his left fist. He had taken a handful of ash from the hearth in the hut, for he knew that it cleaned well. He rubbed his body and hair thoroughly with it. Once finished, he ducked under the water to rinse off both dirt and ash. He was still not clean, so he picked up some sand from the bottom of the stream and scrubbed himself with that.

The filth of his cell had eaten its way into his skin; on his hands, in particular, it was dreadfully stubborn. This dirt will persist till Judgment Day, thought William, scouring his hands until his fingers were red and raw but at least somewhat clean. He waded toward the bank and felt for the herb he had picked along the way and left there. He didn’t know its name but liked how it smelled. He rubbed the small, fragrant leaves hard into his skin and hair and ducked under the water again to get rid of the crumbled remains of the plant. Now he felt better.

How swiftly a dark, stinking cell, with its dank and pitiless cold, hunger, and despair, could transform a human being into an animal that craved only nourishment and freedom, he thought.

Suddenly, William was startled out of his dark thoughts. What was that he heard in the bushes? He was gripped by panic. Were Odon and his companions still after him? Five days had passed, at a guess, no more than six, since he had escaped them in the forest. William looked over at the bank, and his mouth fell open with astonishment upon seeing Enid standing there.

He had already noticed her soft, pale skin in the hut. Now, as she slowly lifted her shift and pulled it over her head, her remarkable complexion, which seemed almost to speak of high birth, dazzled him. Enid untied her long blonde hair from its knot on the top of her head and shook it loose until it tumbled down over her back and bare breasts. It glowed like gold in the sun, lending her an elfin air.

William rubbed his eyes, but it was no mirage. She was actually naked, as God had made her, on the bank. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her lovely body, and his manhood stirred, despite the cold water. He had had no experience of love, so he stood stock-still, waiting to see what would happen. As she slowly entered the water, Enid behaved as though she could not see him. She rinsed her hands with water, washed her face, then stroked her neck and down toward her breasts. She did not even glance in William’s direction. She ducked under the water and reemerged with wet hair, which half covered her delightful rear. Her appearance and catlike movements were almost enough to make William faint. Still, though, he was incapable of movement.

As if she were alone, she laid herself on the grassy bank, face down, drying herself in the sun. And when she turned over, William’s longing increased. His desire hurt him physically, and yet it felt like a gift from heaven. Although he was starting to freeze
in the cold water, William stood still, as if nailed to the spot, until Enid had dressed and gone away again.

Only then did William dare to step out of the stream and get dressed.

Suddenly, Enid stepped out from behind a big bush. “Stay with us,” she begged with an innocent, pleading expression in her eyes.

William was startled. He thought she had gone back to the hut long since. She must have watched him getting dressed.

Her breathing was quick, as if she had been running, and her cheeks glowed pink. He nodded without a word, took the hand she silently held out to him, and followed her back to the cottage.

From then on, in a sort of ritual, he would go to the stream every day, alone, and she would follow him a short while later. Sometimes she would get undressed more quickly, sometimes more slowly, and always he would be close to bursting with desire for her. He suspected that she enjoyed his admiring looks, yet he did not dare to get closer to her, for she had not so far given him a single word of encouragement. William was all the more astonished when, on the sixth day, Enid waded over toward him. He could scarcely grasp what she was doing. Every sinew in his body was taut.

Enid walked around him wordlessly, slowly coming closer and closer, until he thought he was going to faint with desire. She clung to him from behind, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her firm breasts against his back. William closed his eyes. His breathing grew heavier as she silently began to caress his chest. With agonizing slowness, her hands slipped over his belly and down into the depths. William gasped with arousal as she touched him coyly between the legs.

She let go of him abruptly, took him by the hand, and led him back to the bank.

Once there, she knelt down, offered up her pleasingly rounded behind, and made it plain that she was ready to accept him.
William approached her, full of desire but not really knowing how to go about it. But his hope of assistance from Enid was in vain. She seemed to be just as inexperienced, so they tried together to find a way toward union.

As he pushed cautiously into her, Enid replied with a soft moan, which frightened and aroused him in equal measure. William pulled out almost completely and thought he might faint with pleasure. He moved only timidly, and yet it was not long before a powerful spasm released the pressure within him and he sank, exhausted, into the grass beside Enid.

“Don’t leave me alone,” she whispered after a long period of silence. Her lips touched his ear gently as she spoke. William shivered despite the summer heat. He wanted her again, already. He would not be able to leave the hut in the forest as quickly as he had first thought. Revived, he held Enid’s neck, pulled her toward him, and kissed her passionately.

From that day on they lay with each other regularly. They laughed and played like children, living with David like a real family and passing a carefree summer. William no longer thought about his original plan to leave the forest.

He fashioned himself a slingshot so that he could go hunting with Enid; he gathered herbs with her and got to know all the roots, berries, and mushrooms of the forest. En, as he now called her more and more, taught him which plants were poisonous and which were edible, and showed him how to prepare them to create a delicious meal or mix a healing potion.

David, though tall as a man, was as clumsy and awkward as a child, but he loved William and was glad to receive attention from someone other than his sister. The two of them would often sit in front of the hut, and William would give him small tasks that the boy could carry out despite his clumsy fingers. At first, William had looked at him discreetly and wondered how two people who were so different could be brother and sister. Where Enid was
tender and beautiful, David’s legs were far too thin for his massive body. He had the protruding barrel-like belly of a child, and he behaved like one, too. His hair was the color of dirty sand, instead of golden and glossy like his sister’s. But David was lovable, open, and always cheerful and in a good mood, so William and he soon became friends.

As for Enid, there was something wonderfully mysterious, wild, and untamed about her that was extraordinarily attractive to William. She was insatiable in love and burned with desire like a flame licking hungrily at a log. Thus it was that they coupled almost every day, sometimes twice or even three times, licentiously, flagrantly, uninhibitedly, passionately. They did it in the forest, in a clearing, or down by the stream, their favorite place. And at night, when David was asleep, they lay with each other in the hut, on their shared pallet.

Thus winter came, and William stayed in the forest with Enid and David.

T
eeth chattering, Marguerite stood beside the open grave in which they had just laid her father to rest. A fine rain moistened the earth, seeped through her clothing, and ran down her face like miniature tears.

A few days before, her mother, Alix de Hauville, had said through sobs, “He’s dead.” But Marguerite had not really understood what it meant. She had seen animals die when they were slaughtered for food, and she had seen people weep because they had lost someone like a husband or a child. But she found it difficult to understand what it meant to be dead.

“We shall never see him again,” her mother whispered, and Marguerite felt a sudden urge to suck her thumb, as she had done every day until quite recently. Sucking one’s thumb felt good, her father had said, but it was unsuitable for a big girl like her. But Marguerite was still small.

She clamped her thumb in her fist and stared at the hole in the ground. It must be cold down there. Freezing cold herself, she pulled her robe tighter, but it did no good. She had often heard that the dead went to heaven, but whenever she looked upward she could see only blue sky or clouds. She searched the unending gray overhead, but in vain: her father was not in the sky—he was down here, in the damp, dark earth.

He must be getting cold, thought Marguerite. He needs a cover. She let go of her nurse’s hand and ran off.

“Let her go,” said her mother as Marguerite ran across the big green meadow and into the house. The soft hide one would be best, the one on her bed.