come to you now.”
“Do you remember the strange woman in dark rags you watched me talking to up by the old thorn that day? She may have looked a mad wanderer, but the story she told had much in common with the old woman’s just now. Her husband too had been taken by a boatman and she left behind on the shore. And when she was comingback from the cove, weeping for loneliness, she found herself crossing the edge of a high valley, and she could see the path a long way before and a long way behind, and all along it people weeping just like her. When I heard this I was only partly afraid, saying to myself it was nothing to do with us, Axl. But she went on speaking, about how this land had become cursed with a mist of forgetfulness, a thing we’ve remarked on often enough ourselves. And then she asked me: ‘How will you and your husband prove your love for each other when you can’t remember the past you’ve shared?’ And I’ve been thinking about it ever since. Sometimes I think of it and it makes me so afraid.”
“But what’s to fear, princess? We’ve no plans to go to any such island or any desire to do so.”
“Even so, Axl. What if our love withers before we’ve a chance even to think of going to such a place?”
“What are you saying, princess? How can our love wither? Isn’t it stronger now than when we were foolish young lovers?”
“But Axl, we can’t even remember those days. Or any of the years between. We don’t remember our fierce quarrels or the small moments we enjoyed and treasured. We don’t remember our son or why he’s away from us.”
“We can make all those memories come back, princess. Besides, the feeling in my heart for you will be there just the same, no matter what I remember or forget. Don’t you feel the same, princess?”
“I do, Axl. But then again I wonder if what we feel in our hearts today isn’t like these raindrops still falling on us from the soaked leaves above, even though the sky itself long stopped raining. I’m wondering if without our memories, there’s nothing for it but for our love to fade and die.”
“God wouldn’t allow such a thing, princess.” Axl said this quietly, almost under his breath, for he had himself felt an unnamed fear welling up within him.
“The day I spoke with her by the old thorn,” Beatrice continued, “the strange woman warned me to waste no more time. She said we had to do all we could to remember what we’ve shared, the good and the bad. And now that boatman, when we were leaving, gives the very answer I expected and feared. What chance do we have, Axl, the way we are now? If someone like that asked of us our most treasured memories? Axl, I’m so afraid.”
“There, princess, there’s nothing to fear. Our memories aren’t gone for ever, just mislaid somewhere on account of this wretched mist. We’ll find them again, one by one if we have to. Isn’t that why we’re on this journey? Once our son’s standing before us, many things are sure to start coming back.”
“I hope so. That boatman’s words have made me all the more afraid.”
“Forget him, princess. What do we want with his boat, or his island come to that? And you’re right, the rain’s stopped out there and we’ll be drier stepping out from under this tree. Let’s be on our way, and no more of these worries.”
Chapter Three
The Saxon village, viewed from a distance and a certain height, would have been something more familiar to you as a “village” than Axl and Beatrice’s warren. For one thing—perhaps because the Saxons had a keener sense of claustrophobia—there was none of this digging into the hillside. If you were coming down the steep valley slope, as Axl and Beatrice were that evening, you would have seen below you some forty or more individual houses, laid out on the valley floor in two rough circles, one within the other. You might have been too far away to notice the variations in size and splendour, but you would have made
“Do you remember the strange woman in dark rags you watched me talking to up by the old thorn that day? She may have looked a mad wanderer, but the story she told had much in common with the old woman’s just now. Her husband too had been taken by a boatman and she left behind on the shore. And when she was comingback from the cove, weeping for loneliness, she found herself crossing the edge of a high valley, and she could see the path a long way before and a long way behind, and all along it people weeping just like her. When I heard this I was only partly afraid, saying to myself it was nothing to do with us, Axl. But she went on speaking, about how this land had become cursed with a mist of forgetfulness, a thing we’ve remarked on often enough ourselves. And then she asked me: ‘How will you and your husband prove your love for each other when you can’t remember the past you’ve shared?’ And I’ve been thinking about it ever since. Sometimes I think of it and it makes me so afraid.”
“But what’s to fear, princess? We’ve no plans to go to any such island or any desire to do so.”
“Even so, Axl. What if our love withers before we’ve a chance even to think of going to such a place?”
“What are you saying, princess? How can our love wither? Isn’t it stronger now than when we were foolish young lovers?”
“But Axl, we can’t even remember those days. Or any of the years between. We don’t remember our fierce quarrels or the small moments we enjoyed and treasured. We don’t remember our son or why he’s away from us.”
“We can make all those memories come back, princess. Besides, the feeling in my heart for you will be there just the same, no matter what I remember or forget. Don’t you feel the same, princess?”
“I do, Axl. But then again I wonder if what we feel in our hearts today isn’t like these raindrops still falling on us from the soaked leaves above, even though the sky itself long stopped raining. I’m wondering if without our memories, there’s nothing for it but for our love to fade and die.”
“God wouldn’t allow such a thing, princess.” Axl said this quietly, almost under his breath, for he had himself felt an unnamed fear welling up within him.
“The day I spoke with her by the old thorn,” Beatrice continued, “the strange woman warned me to waste no more time. She said we had to do all we could to remember what we’ve shared, the good and the bad. And now that boatman, when we were leaving, gives the very answer I expected and feared. What chance do we have, Axl, the way we are now? If someone like that asked of us our most treasured memories? Axl, I’m so afraid.”
“There, princess, there’s nothing to fear. Our memories aren’t gone for ever, just mislaid somewhere on account of this wretched mist. We’ll find them again, one by one if we have to. Isn’t that why we’re on this journey? Once our son’s standing before us, many things are sure to start coming back.”
“I hope so. That boatman’s words have made me all the more afraid.”
“Forget him, princess. What do we want with his boat, or his island come to that? And you’re right, the rain’s stopped out there and we’ll be drier stepping out from under this tree. Let’s be on our way, and no more of these worries.”
Chapter Three
The Saxon village, viewed from a distance and a certain height, would have been something more familiar to you as a “village” than Axl and Beatrice’s warren. For one thing—perhaps because the Saxons had a keener sense of claustrophobia—there was none of this digging into the hillside. If you were coming down the steep valley slope, as Axl and Beatrice were that evening, you would have seen below you some forty or more individual houses, laid out on the valley floor in two rough circles, one within the other. You might have been too far away to notice the variations in size and splendour, but you would have made
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