Then, Now and After -

[Annabelllee2003]

THEN, NOW and AFTER -

Hello and thank you for coming..

This is a closed thread starring CGRaven and me.


Characters:

Isabelle - Young mistress of the manor -
William – Groom of the manor
Carole– A housewife and accountant
Matt– A rancher and husband
Alyssa – Sensory Specialist
Derek– Environmentalist


THEN ---

Isabelle wakes to the sound of young voices bickering. The pages are squabbling over breakfast, their voices carrying to her curtained bed.

She is so happy. She stretches and smiles as she contemplates the day before her. She'll be with William today. She has made the necessary plans to have time alone with him. On this day she will give him her virginity. She is foolish and in love. Her body is ripe for this love. Ripe for a love that spans time.

She remembers his whispered words. “Meet me my love, we will set our love up on the morrow and plight our trough. No one will stop us and after they must let us marry.”

‘Any that would try to stop us would be mad.’ she thinks.

“You are mine and all I need to live.” His words were pressed against Isabelle’s lips with such longing and passion, her heart dissolved and she believed those words totally.

When her maid comes to dress her, Isabelle is far within the daydream. She scarcely hears Bess ask her of her plans for the day.

“I’m riding today.” She answers. “Have Descartes saddled and made ready for me.”

Her smile is rapturous – William is meeting her in the south meadow. And she will consummate their love this day.

As she dons her gown and surcoat her mind wanders. It has been a fortnight since her fortune was told before the fire on Christmas Eve. She smiles and shrugs at her fortune. It was foretold that she would be a convent bound shrew. She hugs her secret tight and finishes her toilet and steps lightly down the tower steps. The buoyant mirth of youth and love making her shine and glow.

She laughs aloud at the young pages running through the hall with a pie stolen from the kitchen. The cook's bellow ehco's after them.

She makes her way through the rushes strewn on the floor of the hall and enters the kitchen - in hope of a meal to tide her until dinner.

She has loved William since she was a child. She grew up with him although both were on different paths. He was the son of the head groom. She, the young lady of the manor. They grew up together.

The plague that has stricken most of the Isles and Europe has been slowly losing ground as more survive and more are immune. This is a time of unruliness, and distrust. The lords want to be sure of the peasant fidelity and the peasants sense the tenuous hold the aristocracy has over them. They are in the midst of a class war. A quiet war where silent inconversable vollies are strewn back and forth, but still deadly.

Taking some bread and cheese from the table, Isabelle starts for the stable, and her new life.





NOW ---

Carole snaps awake at the clock and curses the numbers revealed. Her head aches from the wine of last night, her mouth foul with the taste of it.

She aims an arm toward the clock and eventually strikes the right button. She groans again as she looks to the window. Another relentless day of this life.

Padding down the hall, barefoot, she steps on a toy, it’s sharp point piercing her instep – her howl of rage and hurt waking the members of the household still asleep. As she steps into the shower she starts to cry. Her whole life seems to be a tear waiting to be cried.

As sobs of regret wrack her body, she huddles against the cold tile wall and is not comforted.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Now - Carole

Carole moves quietly around the bedroom. Picking up her husband’s boxers and socks, dropping them in the hamper. She hears him – muffled under the blankets as he grunts, “Come back to bed babe.”. She answers “I’m late for work – Can’t.” She doubts he has even heard her.

She flips on the closet light and thumbs through the hangers, and thinks how distant she has become. Nothing seems to have meaning. Here she is - a 42-year-old woman, a professional with a good job, a loving husband of almost 20 years, her children are bright and busy in their lives. And she looks at all this through a fog of deepening depression.

Pulling out a blue suit, she turns toward her husband. Doug’s graying hair is sticking up in bed head clumps and his face is pressed into the pillow. She wonders, not for the first time, how he can possibly breathe like that? The sheet covers his brawny body. She can see the steady rise and fall of his breathing. She works days, he works nights. And she can’t remember when they last made love.


Crossing to her dresser – she stares at her reflection revealed in the murky light filtering through the closed bedroom drapes and light from the closet. She was so pretty. Bright eyes. Great smile. She remembers her body before marriage and kids and then the image blurs into what she is now. As she looks every scar and stretch mark seem amplified. Her breasts, once so big and firm, seem to mock her as they lay poised - about to lose the good fight with gravity. Her belly rounded and marred with childbirth, hips large and dimpled with cellulite. She hasn’t exercised in ages and refuses to look at the treadmill sitting in the far corner of the room in silent reproach. Her hair is blond and thick, but frizzy from her haphazard care. The gray is coming back to her temples and she should have it touched up, but she can’t see the point.

Carole would be pretty still if her eyes could sparkle with animation. If she could move through a room with enthusiasm instead of trudging with the dirge of a funeral making her steps drag.

She sighs and dresses. She kisses the back of her husbands sleeping head, and hurries down the hall to tell the kids to get a move on, fix breakfast, and start another day.

 

[cgraven]

THEN

William groom to the manor, loyal bondsman of his lordship, and hopelessly in Love with the Lady Isabelle. When they where children he was her playmate, a lad to amuse the young lady of the house. Isabelle was the only child of a loveless marriage, His Lordship to busy really to bother with child, so William was brought to the manor.

As the years passed and they grew William was trained as a groom and Isabelle in the duties of a lady of the peerage, yet the affection of childhood had blossomed into love, a love that could not be, for no priest would marry them, their difference in station a bar to their union. In desperation William confessed his love to the young Maiden and to his surprise she to confessed her love for him. Their plans made he would meet her here today, in the south meadow under the old oak three to proclaim their love to God and the heavens then consummate that love.

William stayed in the shadows of that might oak and waited for his love.

NOW

Matt ran his fingers through his graying hair as he looked out over the ranch that had been in his family for the last 100 years. The 5 year drought had taken its toll. Money was getting scarce and things where getting desperate. Amy his wife of 4 years had left to live with her parents, divorce was out of the question, he was a man of his word even if his young bride wasn’t.

He had hired an accountant to go over the books to see what could be done to save the ranch. She came highly recommended and was due to be at the ranch at 1PM.

Matt hated waiting and the house seemed all that much lonelier with Amy gone.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Then –

Isabelle’s heart beats faster as she mounts Descartes and urges him forward. The manor seems hushed today. No one practicing in the yard by the stables, even the pages aren’t to be found. The blacksmith’s shed quiet and deserted. Maybe they are out hunting. No one told her. As she rides past the quiet yard and outbuildings she forgets them.

The breeze is kind to her skin, the sun is shining, and she can’t remember ever being so happy. The end of their separation and torment of being apart is at hand.

Her laughter rings in the lazy sunlight and she leans forward, flying into her future.


Now –

Carole’s morning has been low. The server went down before she could save the ‘final results and recommendations’ document she had written for her biggest client. When would she learn to save, save, save? It seems such a small task to save every few moments, or she should just use her laptop, it has recovery on it. Two appointments cancelled and one showed up late. Tax season is no time to have these people cancel at the last minute. It just adds to the stress.

Her boss, Mickey, came to her small office to give her directions to a new client’s ranch. She must have forgotten to write the appointment down. “I really need to get a grip on things’ she thinks.

“Earth to Carolyn Isabelle.” Mickey punctuates this with a snap of his fingers before her eyes, startling her. “Any time you want to come back down to us mere mortals – you let me know.”

“Sorry Mickey,” she says, “Got it covered. Right, Jackson Ranch. Off CR-19. I’d better get a move on.”

“Okay Carole, go be a godsend to the guy, and watch out for cow patties!” he quipped as he left her cramped office.

Mickey’s advice is cut off, drowned out by the noise of her coffee mug shattering on the tile floor.

Cursing and fuming, she cleans up the mess slicing her thumb in the process. ‘Shit, shit, shit. Anything else going to go wrong?' she wonders. Alternating between sucking her thumb and tossing the essentials into her overflowing laptop case, her leg strikes the corner of her desk that she has meant to file down – making a perfect run down her leg, thigh to knee as well as a blob of red at the impact. 'JESUS CHRIST.' Big mouth, serves her right for asking.

She finally pulls into the ranch, 20 minutes late. Why can’t they mark these county roads better? She drives up to the main house, a dusty ranch that could use a coat of paint. It was sprawling to say the least and had a rather forlorn appearance. The flowers in pots lining the entrance have seen better days, wetter days, wilting in the dry air. The outbuildings and stables seem deserted. She hears a faint whinny obviously from one of the stable’s occupants.

As Carole opens the door and starts to step from her car, she pauses, the run catching her eye as she puts her leg to the ground. She tries to adjust the hose run toward her inner thigh to hide it. She didn’t want to take the time to stop and get a new pair when she was running so late. The spare pair she usually keeps in her case, worn long ago, one more thing she has forgotten to replace.

Sighing again, she grabs her case, slams the door and heads to the front door. Looking back toward the deserted stables and buildings, a strange shiver passes through her body. Shaking her head at the feeling she reaches to ring the bell. When the door opens she says,

“Hi, I’m Carole Williams, from Capitol Accounting. Sorry I’m late” her words are rushed, “I took a wrong turn. You must be Mr. Jackson.”

 

[cgraven]

THEN

William remains hidden in the cool dark shadows of the old oak tree, the ancient symbol of the druids, promises and vows here believed to be as holy and binding as any taken before a cloistered priest. The shimmering green leaves of the holy mistletoe entwine in its aged arms.

The sound of hoof beats upon the ground draws his attention to the meadow and his heart leaps in his breast as he sees his one true love Isabelle galloping to him.

Eagerly he steps from the shadows of the oak and waves to his love.

NOW

The morning dragged by as Matt went about the chores of the ranch. The breeding of fine horses was the family business , and had been for as long as anyone could remember. There seemed a bond between Matt and these noble steeds a kinship that defied explanation. He was worried about one of the breed mares, Descartes she was about to fold, and now more then ever the future of the ranch depended on the new folds, their blood lines and the price they would bring at the fall auction. But none of that meant a thing unless he could make it through the long hot summer.

The sound of a car in the drive brought Matt to the house trough the back door. The bell was just ringing as he opened the door. A very attractive woman stood there.

“Hi, I’m Carole Williams, from Capitol Accounting. Sorry I’m late.”…………. “I took a wrong turn. You must be Mr. Jackson.”

Her words came in a rush her voice light a little blush colored her cheeks. There was something hauntingly familiar about her but the name did not ring a bell and he was sure they had never met, yet there was something about her.

“Hi William Jackson, but everyone calls me Matt, My dad was always Bill so I became Matt.”

Why had he told her that his dad had been dead for t 15 years now.

“Come in … Can I get you a cup of coffee before we get started?”

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Then

Isabelle spies her William as he steps out of the shadow of the old oak, his hand raised in greeting. Her hair so tightly bound by Bess an hour before, now streams down her back in tangled gold waves as she rides toward her beloved.

She pulls up before him and smiles. Her chest is heaving from her ride and the sight of him, her smile bright. As he stares up at her his hazel eyes flecked with gold reveal the love he has for her.

Isabelle can only stare at him as she leans down into his waiting arms. Descartes moves off a step or two as he pulls her from the saddle. As his lips meet hers, she is again folded in the soft luminescence of his love.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Now - Carole

“Hi William Jackson, but everyone calls me Matt, My dad was always Bill so I became Matt.”

“Come in … Can I get you a cup of coffee before we get started?”

Carole heard the words he spoke as he opened the storm door to draw her inside, but she didn’t seem to be processing them.

“I’m sorry, Will… er, Bill, Matt… What do I call you?” She is flustered and quite shaken. Her face flames with embarrassment as she follows him into the cool interior of the house. She has felt strange since she got out of the car.

He leads her to a big sun-drenched kitchen. Gesturing for her to sit at the large wood table, he moves to the coffee pot and pours two mugs. She sits, pushing her case under the table.

Turning back to her, he seems to hesitate before placing the steaming mug down in front of her, then retreats back to the counter.

Leaning back against the counter, his eyes narrow slightly as he watches her, taking a sip from his mug.

Under this close scrutiny, she raises her mug and takes a big sip forgetting it is newly poured and scalding. The mug barely makes it back to the table as she realizes how hot it is. She forces herself to swallow it, instead of spitting in back in the mug, and is uncharacteristically seized with a fit of the giggles.

"That's hot."

 

[cgraven]

NOW

It was unsettling, She seemed so familiar, as if we had really been close, no much more than close. But that was silly I had never seen her before in my life.

“I’m sorry, Will… er, Bill, Matt… What do I call you?”

“Matt I kind of got use to it, but if you prefer you can call me William.”

I poured the coffee and as Carole settled in at the table. I gave her mug and then went back to lean on the counter. I just kept staring at her trying to place where I had seen her before.

She took a sip of her coffee and her face turned beet red. As she forced herself to sallow. Rapidly setting her cup down.

That's hot."

“Damn Isabelle I am sorry I should have warned you it was very hot can I get you some cream a glass of ice water. Any thing?”

Just then the alarm went off which meant that Descartes was beginning to fold.

“Sorry but I have a mare about to fold and this is her first one. I have to be there.”

 

[cgraven]

THEN

His love in his arms the sweet kiss they share, slowly he breaks that kiss and William holding Isabelle in the air trills around in a circle smiling up at his love. Then he lowers her to the ground her body pressed to his as he sit her feet upon the ground.

“Come Love.”

William leads Isabelle in to the shadows of the sacred oak there he places a wreath of ivy on her head her bridal crown. William dawns a stole of mistletoe and in the ancient pagan forms of the land pledges to take Isabelle as his wife..

Slowly he turns to her, love in his eyes, and waits for her to pledge her love, to take him unto her as her husband.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Then

Isabelle is breathless when William puts her feet back on the ground. Her lips still tingle from his kiss.

“Come Love.”

His hand is shaking, as hers is when he leads her beneath the scarred old oak.

She sees him bend to pick up the wreath and set it carefully on her head and her eyes fill and tears fall when she blinks. Isabelle watches him with her heart pounding as the mistletoe is placed around him in the old way.

She has not any of the old way with her, but she reaches up to her throat and unclasps the Virgin blessing resting between her breasts and steps forward to place it around his neck.

“You are my husband, I am your wife. I come to you now as your wife, I am yours William.” This vow ardently spoken, so heartfelt, her voice catches and nearly breaks on his name.

She looks at her William, eyes shining with all the love she has for him and the promise of love that binds her. Binds them together.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

My nervous giggles cease when I see how intently he stares at me.

He looks like someone I should be able to place. The funny feeling that comes when meeting certain people akin to déjà vu. He is very good looking, I muse. The lines on his face accent his looks and do not detract, but he seems somewhat sad even when he smiles. The same look I notice more and more in my own mirror. Worry over his failing ranch maybe.

“Damn Isabelle I am sorry I should have warned you it was very hot can I get you some cream a glass of ice water. Any thing?”

I had just started to shake my head no, when some kind of alarm sounds in the kitchen.

“Sorry but I have a mare about to fold and this is her first one. I have to be there.”

“Can I come?” I ask.

At his nod, I follow him out the back door, my tongue pressing against the roof of my mouth, wincing as I feel the scalded flesh.

Stepping down and hurrying behind his lean form, an unsettling thought starts to whirl around my head.

‘He called me Isabelle, how odd.” Trying to catch up with him, I ask, “You called me Isabelle. How did you know that is my middle name?”

 

[cgraven]

“Can I come?”

Carole’s sweet voice cut through the concern I have for the mare and her fold. I nod and head for the barn. Striding across the yard I pause to open the barn door.

“You called me Isabelle. How did you know that is my middle name?”

I look at Carole perplexed for a moment.

“Did I, not sure why, no I didn’t know it was your middle name…..Hummm how odd.”

But that could wait Descartes and her unborn fold could not. The little mare was laying her box stall, her nostrils flaring, at our approach she lifted her head, and was trying to get her for legs under herself to stand.

“Carole please stay here mare can be very unpredictable when folding”

Entering the stall I held my hands out.

“Easy girl take it easy Descartes”

I knelt by the frighten mare my hand stroking her neck, my voice calm and soothing. She was frighten her water had broken and she was well along now. With each contraction her nostrils flared and she whinnied. It didn’t take long to see she was in trouble.

“Carole come here just rub her neck and talk quietly to her, there is a problem.”

 

[cgraven]

THEN

Isabelle bestows a token of her love the Virgin Blessing her body pressed to his as she places it around William neck.

“You are my husband, I am your wife. I come to you now as your wife, I am yours William.”

Isabelle’s voice is choked with the deep love she feels for him, her eyes shining and speaking more eloquently than any words could of her eternal love for William, and his answer in kind.

The moment they have waited for longed for now is at hand, with their love pledged, vows exchanged in the old ways, on this the feast of “Beltane”, the day of the fertility rites. William takes Isabelle’s hand and leads her to a bed of fresh cut boughs that will be their wedding bed.

Their in the cool shade of the green wood he kisses his love his wife and slowly starts to remove his garments, his eyes smiling and inviting Isabelle to join him.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Now - As Carole

“Did I, not sure why, no I didn’t know it was your middle name…Hmmm how odd.” His answer to my question was distracted.

Following him into the large barn, I looked into Descartes stall. What a quaint name for a mare.

I come closer and stop when William tells me “Carole please stay here mares can be very unpredictable when foaling.”.

She is obviously pregnant and nervous, the whites of her eyes visible. She is heaving with each breath, but seems to calm a little bit when William walks toward her with his hands out, talking quietly to her. As he knelt by the mare, stroking her so tenderly, soothing her with his voice, I got another one of those feelings. This was a big déjà vu.

I feel dizzy and barely hear William say “Carole come here just rub her neck and talk quietly to her, there is a problem.” I don’t know, but seeing him with the mare, the feeling is overwhelming. I know this man. I don’t know how but I KNOW this man.

I make my way around William and the mare, and sit on my knees in the straw strewn on the floor and stroke her neck, telling her she would be fine, everything is all right.

I leaned in closer to the mare and told her “Don’t worry, we will take care of you.”

I caught Williams’s eyes, the worry there quite apparent. And strangely, felt very close to him.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Then

The kiss that binds them together as man and wife is so wonderful to Isabelle. As she watches William slowly remove his clothing, her heart starts beating at a break neck pace. He is so beautiful to her. In the shadows beneath the huge old oak, she feels so secure with her love.

It takes her a moment to realize he is asking her to make ready for him. Her hands tremble visibly when she reaches to unknot her cloak. She covers the boughs with it as a blanket watching him all the while, until he uncovers the lower part of himself to her eyes.

Her eyes downcast, face flaming, her once nimble fingers stumble over the fastenings and ties of her gown, she draws the garments away from her body. Holding them before her, shielding her untouched body in maidenly modesty, she looks at him again. Seeing his eyes shine with love, Isabelle, with a joyous cry flies into his arms.

 

[cgraven]

NOW

Carole moves with a slow easy grace to kneel my the frightened mare. Her voice soft and reassuring

“Don’t worry, we will take care of you.”

Her eyes meet, mine and I knew she so the worry in them, so much depended on this years foals, but now time now to worry Descartes needed help now or I could lose both mare and foal. I reach up into her and feel her unborn foal, it’s turned the wrong way, and I grimace in pain at her powerful contraction of the mare bears down on my arm.

I withdraw my arm from the poor little mare and get the pull rope.

“The foal is turned the worn way Carole,. Please just stroke her neck and talk to her calm her.”

Again I am in poor Descartes and the pain is almost unbearable her contractions much stronger now as she struggles to bring her first foal into the world. Finally I slip the loop is around the foal’s hoofs. Then free of the mare I take the pull bar and when she pushes I pull. Soon the little sorrel foaled is free and lays there in the straw. Shivering I rub it down with hat as Descartes. Stands , then sniffs the foal and start s to lick it. I give Carole a hand and help her stand. The little foal struggles and stands on its wobbly legs for the 1st time.

“Thanks Carole, I think your coffee has cooled down now.”

And I smile at her.

 

[cgraven]

THEN

William smiles as he sees Isabelle trembling fingers go to her cape and she lays it as the coverlet to their wedding bed.. with eyes downcast in her virginal modesty her cheeks tinged pink, Isabelle slips from her gown and shyly holds it in front of her supple form. Head rises and their eyes meet and speak of their love. The gown slips from her fingers a joyous cry on her lips She flies to Williams waiting arms . Their lips meet in unbridled passion.

The sounds of breaking branches , the thunder of hooves startle the lovers. William steps in front of Isabelle to shield her. Arms grab and hold him fast and Isabelle father glares down from his mount.

“Cover yourself GirL”

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Now Carole

William is kneeling behind Descartes, his arm deep within her checking the position of the foal, I assume. I see him grimace in pain as a contraction bears down on his arm. His eyes darken with concern as he pulls out.

“The foal is turned the wrong way Carole... Please just stroke her neck and talk to her, calm her.”

I nod and lean closer to the mare, my arm around her neck to speak softly, slowly to her. He rises and returns with some sort of rope contraption and kneels again to attend to Descartes. I watch in awe as he returns to the deep recess of the mare and see his muscles bunch with strain as he moves deep within her. His cry of success is muted but audible as he does what is needed to bring forth the foal.

I stare mutely at this miracle. This man so calmly competent and gentle, rubbing the muck of the birth from its spindly body. I move back as Descartes jerkily rises barely noticing when my panty hose catch on the rough floorboards and shred. I watch struck dumb when the foal bump-wrestles itself to its gangly legs.

William pulls me up with a smile his voice, teasing.

“Thanks Carole, I think your coffee has cooled down now.”

Still holding his hand, the overflow of emotion makes me move closer and plant my lips on his smile, kissing him with brief passion before my action translates to being inappropriate to my numb brain.

Flushing deeply, I move away. Releasing his hand and embarrassed as hell. I barely can meet his eyes.

“I’ll take that coffee now, please.” Yes, that shaky voice is mine.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Then - Isabelle

Isabelle stands in shock, the nightmare just beginning as William is pulled roughly from in front of her. The trembling starts when she hears her father hard voice –

“Cover yourself Girl”.

She feels eyes, every eye burning into her naked body. The gaggle of retainers gathered around her father move closer to watch the spectacle. She stoops to gather her dress and quickly covers herself to stop the eyes.

“Please Father, you don’t understand. We’re married. I love him. Let him go, let him go please” her ardent plea is punctuated by her moving to where her father sits high above her and gripping his saddle, the tears streaming down her face.

He looks down at his daughter, so ruined now, disgraced. He lifts the ivy wreath from her head, throwing it on the ground. Pagan heresy. A meaty hand draws back and he backhands her in the face, sending her to the ground in a heap, nose and mouth bloody.

“You’re a slut. The convent is too good for you, pagan wanton whore” the words dead and harsh from his lips, “Tie him, she can watch the justice of mother church.”

“NO FATHER, PLEASSSSSEEE” her cry is awful, pitiful, and falls on deaf ears as she stumbles to her feet to run to William.

The priest she has known all her life, Father Anslem, grabs her roughly and restrains her, his eyes cold and deadly. She struggles to look over his shoulder to William, held naked before them, struggling, his beautiful body twisted, her father’s men pulling his arms back and up, making him grunt in pain.

She cries and begs, unnoticed, as they depart to justice.

 

[cgraven]

THEN

William mutely watches as Isabelle turns crimson, as her father's servants' leer at her supple virginal body, their desire plainly written in the eyes as they devour the naked perfection of his love. She quickly covers herself and runs to her father. Isabelle’s pleading falling on deaf ears then the strike of his hand, as his callous words fill the glade.

“You’re a slut. The convent is too good for you, pagan wanton whore” the words dead and harsh from his lips, “Tie him, she can watch the justice of mother church.”

William hears his loves soul wrenching scream, Father Anslem, who knew of their love stands there restraining Isabelle his face cold a set mask. She struggles in his arms, their eyes meet and his speak of his undying love for her. His faces grimaces with pain and a grunt escapes his lips.

************************************

Three days later just out side the walls of the manor a stake surrounded with dry bundles of fagots piled high awaits fro William her has been denied, food, the consolations of the church, or even a rag to cover his naked body. The entire manor has been gathered, Isabelle is there with her father, her eyes red her cheeks tearstained. They chain him to the stake.

“William You have been found practicing Pagan rites and seducing the daughter of this house with vile witchcraft and are sentence to be burn at the stake for your crimes.”

Father Anslem’s voice wrings out.

“My only crime Father is that I love Isabelle, and that she loves me.”

William pauses and holds his head high.

“I will love you always my dear wife, always down the long corridor of time, I will come to you always my love.”

His eyes hold hers. Isabelle’s father nods and the dry wood is set ablaze. Williams eyes hold Isabelle’s his love for her shines in them even as the fire licks at his body.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Then

During the time of William’s imprisonment, Isabelle has been tried also. Each day, morning and evening, she is taken from the cell beneath the manor’s main hall and brought up to be whipped before all. The whipping was secondary to the activities Father Aslem has been forcing upon her at night. Every sexual depravity he could think of, inspired by the sight of her naked in the glade, has been visited on her flesh.

On the third day, filthy, with her shift stuck to the festering lashes on her back, she is brought forth again. Made to bathe, Isabelle moves leadenly, brokenly. She assumes William is dead these three days. The loss of her only love, the subsequent whippings and nightly rape has her at the edge of insanity and she longs to slide into that madness.

Bess, her eyes red from weeping, helps her mistress from the bath, tends her wounds, and from instructions given by Father Aslem, dresses her in her finest dress. Isabelle looks down at it in despair, Williams favorite color, the tears start again, Bess hugs her gently.

Isabelle is lead in a procession of her father’s household out of the heavy gates. She then sees William, naked and chained to a stake with wood piled high around him. Isabelle lunges forward almost freeing herself, then is caught and held, sobbing as
Father Aslem delivers his sentence to all those present –

“William You have been found practicing Pagan rites and seducing the daughter of this house with vile witchcraft and are sentence to be burn at the stake for your crimes.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooo” Isabelle’s anguished voice causing some of the sympathetic softer-hearted members of the household to weep and cross themselves at her pain.

William pulls his head up and answers Father Aslem,

“My only crime Father is that I love Isabelle, and that she loves me.”

William then stares directly into the eyes of his beloved and with determination promises her,

“I will love you always my dear wife, always down the long corridor of time, I will come to you, always my love.”

Isabelle watches as the faggots are ignited and the flames start to dance horribly around his feet.

His love is so strong, she feels it reaching out to her and surrounding her with warmth.

Her loving gaze, is kept steadily on her William, to help him die.

 

[cgraven]

THEN

The flames licked higher, their firry fingers claw at William yet his eyes saw only Isabelle.

“I love you Isabelle and I will always love you.”

Where the last words he uttered before lifting his eyes to heaven a smile slowly spreading across his lips.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Then

Isabelle is running. Running to the meadow, to meet William. She lifts her head to smell the moist earth. She loves the mist that covers the meadow in the early morning. She stops before the lovely, old oak.

Ah, their tree, she frowns as she remembers something bad, just out of reach in her mind.

Then she hears him, and turning the thought aside before the memory could come back, she forgets it as she sees William running toward her. And hears his voice again -

“I love you Isabelle and I will always love you.”

And she steps forward to meet him.

----

No one but Bess saw Isabelle step from the tower to plummet to the hard earth below. And she told no one that Isabelle stepped off with her arms wide and a beautiful and expectant smile on her face.

The least she could do is say she fell, for a suicide wouldn’t be allowed in the consecrated tomb.

 

[cgraven]

NOW

“Thanks Carole, I think your coffee has cooled down now.”

Carole Hold my hand her eyes shining slowly she steps closer her lips brush mine, they are soft moist and so inviting. That soft kiss becomes more intense, and there is a passion there, that I respond to. Suddenly Carole breaks that kiss stepping back her eyes demurely downcast, her cheeks blush a deep rose pink. She will not meet my eyes

“I’ll take that coffee now, please.”

Her voice a husky whisper, her voice quivering as Carole speaks. I gently lift her chin my eyes hold hers; there is something so familiar, as she gazes back at me. I step closer our body’s brushing against each other.

“Carole is it coffee that you really want?”

My lips part and I softly Kiss Carole the passion rapidly building in that kiss.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Now - As Carole

I had barely moved away from William when he stepped closer to me, asking me if I really wanted coffee. I couldn’t understand the context of his words at first. I couldn’t believe I had kissed him, a stranger – a client. It was just a reaction to the birthing of the foal, I rationalized.

Then, my protective cloud of depression starts to crack when I feel his lips again, his body lightly touching mine. I don’t even think about it, and kiss him back. What is it about this William? As his lips move against mine, there are things I feel in that kiss that shouldn’t be there.

No stranger’s kiss should have such passion and gentleness. No stranger would kiss you with LOVE. I swear that is what it feels like. No stranger’s kiss would have my heart pounding. I am as helpless as a baby to prevent my response to him. My hands move to either side of his face, holding his kiss to me, moving closer to him. This feels so right, and he doesn’t feel like a stranger, not to my body, not to my soul.