Table of contents for Themes of Eternity
I watched her change the bandages on the festering flesh, and my heart gave a twinge of sorrow. She was beautiful in the gathering twilight. The last rays of the sun kissed her tanned skin and raven hair, seemingly to bid farewell in the promise of meeting her tomorrow. Her eyes, glistening like the starry, starry night that would soon be upon us, rose briefly to meet mine, and then fell away.
My heart cried out in pain again.
The man on the bed was her husband, and she was his wife. They had only been married for a brief time – a scarce one or two years. When she had first come to our manor, I could not believe that my master and teacher had been graced with such a beauty. She was a full score of years younger than he was – just a little younger than myself. But my master had been so happy, so happy. He had loved her, you see. And she loved him too. They were a couple blessed by the Gods themselves.
I could never break up that happiness. The three of us all knew, of course. When my eyes had first met hers, I was struck to the heart. And, over time, she was not averse as well. Being the dutiful and loving wife that she was, she also made my master aware of the situation. He was so kind, so kind. He knew of my love for her, yet he did not cast me out nor forbade me this love. He had been my teacher in the sword arts, and he knew more than anyone else my sense of honour. I had learned it from him, after all.
He knew we would not betray him.
And we would not have.
And we still did not.
I only wonder what she must be feeling like now. When the festering sickness first began in the countryside, he had personally ridden out to care for the sick and injured. That was a knight’s duty, he often said. And I followed him, as my mentor and my hero. We forbade her to come, the both of us. The disease was dangerous. Anyone who fell prey to it was forever plagued by the opening of sores all over the body and a high fever, rendering them in both physical and mental anguish. And no cure had been discovered yet. Neither of us wished for her to fall to that sickness.
Why, o Gods? Why do you curse us so? Great Goddess Aluwen, was this in your vision, when you cast that spell? Or did Mortos corrupt thy good intentions once again?
My master contracted the disease. When we discovered the symptoms, he immediately put me in charge of the manor, and forbade his wife from entering his presence. That was to protect her. But she, spirited and wilful wife that she was, evaded my protective measures and snuck into his room at night to tend to him. A woman’s love knew no bounds. He was in the grips of the fever at that time, and her ministrations soothed him.
It pained my heart to watch the man, who had been like a second father to me, now lose his strength. There was nothing I could do about it, but pray and hope that a cure would be found soon. He was in constant agony from his sores, which produced pus and gangrene. His bandages had to be changed daily, and she took the role of doing so. It was her labour of love for her lord husband. As his apprentice, and one who loved her too much, I could not deny her place by his side.
He was starting to babble already. The fever had taken a toll on his mental reserves as well, driving him to the brink of lunacy. But occasionally there would be lucid moments, where he appeared to have recovered his senses for a while. In one of these moments, he had talked to us both.
“If only I could die,” he had said, smiling weakly. “Then I would ease your burdens. Then you could be wed. You would be happy together.” He had placed my hand upon hers. “Take good care of her, my student – my son in all but name. I only wish for her happiness, and yours. My blessings on your love for each other. If only I could die…”
O great gods, how you torture us!
To drive me to the brink of wishing for my master’s death, so that I could marry his wife! And she! What would she be thinking? Her heart beat as rapidly as mine, I knew. I had felt it, in the warmth of her hand, in the meeting of our eyes. We loved each other as well. But we would never be together, for her husband still lay between us. We could not betray him. We would not, not as long as he is alive.
Every day, she tends to him, changing the pus-soaked bandages on the festering sores, listening to the fevered babblings of the one she loves. She, loving him, cannot leave him. I, loving her, cannot leave her. And he, despite his love for us, cannot leave us either.
We are bound for eternity in this cruel, cruel fate of endless love.
