D. A. Houdek

Deb Houdek Rule

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Of All the Western Stars

by Deb Houdek Rule

Chapter 37

Midsummer Eve, 1908
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There was a faint creak as the oak door closed, then the muted click as the latch fell into place, a punctuation of finality. Lisette strained to hear Ashur’s footsteps but they were too soft. She imagined each stealthy step down the hallway, then the stairs. Soon, too soon, he’d be mounting the stallion and riding away, out of her life. Then sometime he’d be in a silvery ship off to worlds and times that here and now existed only in her imagination.

She had nothing else left of Ashur. He’d taken Baby with him, and the magic holo crystal. She did agree it was for the best. Sooner or later someone else would hear that small voice from the future telling her things that were heresy now. Or they’d see the images she would conjure and think they were spirits. Lisette sighed and pictured Ashur clothed all in black on the white stallion riding across the silvery plains.

She’d wished upon a star and her wish had come true. She’d found the true love she sought, the joy and intoxicating passion of sharing a physical union with a man with whom she shared an even deeper spiritual union. But…

Lisette glanced down at Geraint. Sleeping peacefully, he looked much better already. His face at rest was smooth and peaceful. Gone was the tension and rigid mask of control he always wore. Would he ever willingly show her this face? Show her his whole heart and soul? This was the man with whom she was supposed to have been spiritually joined. Save that at that time he had been wed to another. Lisette rubbed her brow fighting off the familiar dismay and confusion. Geraint had done what he thought was best to amend his errors and so had she. She could have left with Ashur, asked him to take her away to the stars, but instead she’d returned to the duties and obligations that bound her to Geraint.

With a heavy sigh, Lisette slung the saddlebags containing the medicines over her shoulder. Time to let the others know she was here. As she turned, the door opened and a large black shape eclipsed the doorway.

Lisette heard a gasp. "Lisette, daughter, is that you?"

"Oh, Lady Cicely!" Lisette cried and threw herself into the older woman’s ample embrace.

"There, there, child. Hush."

Lisette pushed herself away and studied her mother-in-law in the dim light. The woman’s face was haggard with worry and lack of sleep. Lady Stafford moved to the bed and stood over it shaking her head. She straightened the sheets and coverings, futile gestures in the face of the threat she could not defeat.

"When we heard what had happened to you we feared the worst. It seemed for a time that you’d vanished. I see now you disguised yourself in Geraint’s clothes to escape those fools. You’re a wise, brave girl, dear child. And the more courageous yet to return to your husband’s side not knowing if the danger to you yet existed. You do good credit to your family name." She shook her enshrouded head sorrowfully. "But I fear ‘tis too late. Your poor husband is like to die before another day goes by. He’s called for the priest five times already, and even the prior from Wilton did come to attend him. I’ve done my best with my healing skills, but it is like that with your sister, I fear."

Lisette shook her head vigorously. She reached out to soothe Lady Stafford’s anxiously fluttering hands. "My lady… please. Listen to me. Geraint is fine. He’ll be well by morning."

"Nay, child. How can that be?"

"I sought out healing… uh, herbs known by the Lord Ashur in his lands. I gave them to my husband and I brought more for others who are ill."

"Can this be?" Lady Stafford said in wonderment and put her hand on Geraint’s forehead. "Praise be! His fever is already broken." She turned to Lisette and gently kissed her on each cheek. "You are the answer to our prayers." Lisette flushed delicately in the candlelight.

As the first rays of the sun peered over the horizon Lisette woke, short night though it was. She yawned and stretched thinking that this was the first time in several days she’d slept in an actual bed. It was not so pleasant as sleeping beneath the stars in Ashur’s arms. She looked at the empty pillow next to her, ran her hand lightly over the linen, and imagined Ashur waking up next to her each morning. It was not to be. He was gone from her life as surely as a shooting star streaking through the night did burn away. Both were but fleeting things. She had him and had known him for naught but a brief, blazing moment.

Lisette climbed out of the high bed and opened one of her trunks. Her finest silk smock and the green silk gown she’d left behind in the glade by the ship. Pulling out a simple cotton chemise, she put it on, then chose a demure dress of dark gray. From her small chest she examined her few jewels. She picked up the ruby ring, the betrothal ring Geraint had given her. The dark gem scarcely gave back any light. She held it up to the sunlight and looked at its blood-colored glow. She slipped it over her finger and let it be her only adornment.

Combing out her long hair, she braided and coiled it, pinning it in place as was proper for a married woman. Over it she put a black three-pointed hood that totally encased her head. She arranged the draping carefully in the back. Her eye fell upon her basket with her sewing and embroidery in a corner of the room. She still had the fabric of Ashur’s tunic. That was one thing she had. It would make a fine cap for her, she thought again. And mayhap even gloves that she might wear them on her hands and remember when her hands had touched their owner. Yes, perhaps today she’d attend to her sewing. Of course there was always tomorrow… and the day after. There was little else to do. A proper lady busied herself with sewing and prayers. If they could afford a book now and then she would enjoy reading the responses to the heretical German monk’s Ninety-five Thesis.

Lisette sighed. No, she was lying to herself. She wouldn’t enjoy it. It would be like reading a story where she knew the ending before she began reading.

She looked around the bedchamber, at the wide planks of the floor, the rough-hewn beams of the ceiling, the sparse, straight furniture and tried to imagine the room Ashur would be waking to.

"Computer," she whispered, "Lights!" But nothing happened save in her mind.

A rap sounded at her door. She opened it to see Henry and Cicely Stafford standing there. Lady Cicely smiled broadly. Henry was trying to hide his smile with a gruffness that made Lisette grin.

"My son is well and calls for you, daughter," he said. As Lisette stepped into the corridor he patted her hand fondly.

Lady Stafford led her husband away, saying to Lisette over her shoulder, "I’ll have the maid see to breakfast. I’ll have it brought up to you." Vision of hot chocolate made Lisette’s mouth water but she knew it would be ale, bread and bacon.

Opening the door to the room where her husband lay, Lisette was greeted by a Geraint alert and gravely studying her.

"You look much better," Lisette said with relief.

"With thanks to you."

Lisette moved to the side of the bed and sat on the edge. She felt as though they were strangers meeting for the first time rather than husband and wife of nearly four weeks. She clasped her hands together sedately and looked down.

"You’re wearing the ring I gave you," Geraint commented. Lisette nodded. "It never meant much to you, did it? Nor to I." Lisette stared at him. What was he talking about? "Take it off," he said, his tone quiet but commanding. Puzzled she took off the ring and handed it to him. He studied it for a moment then put it on the stand by the bed. He raised his left hand from beneath the coverlet. Off of his little finger he pulled the emerald ring and held it out toward her.

"Take this ring as a token of my genuine affection and esteem… And of my thanks."

Lisette didn’t reach for the ring. It hung in the air between them, the green of the emerald glittering the very color of Lisette’s eyes.

"I can’t," she said after a moment. "It belonged to your other… your first, that is… to your first wife, and your true love."

Geraint met her gaze solemnly. "‘Tis true, and that’s why it means so much more to me that I want you to have it now."

"As pledge for the renewal of our marriage?" she asked hesitantly, reaching for the ring. The silver was smooth and cool between her fingers.

"No," he said slowly, lowering his hand. "As a remembrance." He looked away from her. "We are no longer married. We never were."

Lisette breathed heavily. "What do you mean?"

"I tried to tell you last night, but my mind was addled. I’ve been speaking with the priest and prior, and they with the bishop. The signs and omens were clear. Only it took a crisis for me to understand them." He took her hand and slipped the emerald ring over her finger. "I was already wed but tried to dance around my false marriage to you. I grievously wronged you and God and I was mortally punished when my beloved wife was taken from me." He looked back at her and she saw his face was serene, radiant even. Truly he’d made his confession and received forgiveness, she thought.

"But now it’s over," she said.

"Indeed it is. I know you love Ashur. That night, when I saw the vision of you two together, I knew God was telling me you were meant to be together too. Lisette… Our marriage has been annulled. It never existed. I had it done the very night I fell ill and you had to run off. I knew in my heart it was to Ashur you’d flee and I wanted to be sure you were free of the bonds to me before you reached him."

Lisette’s heart leapt and pounded hard. "Annulled. We are not wed. I am… and was… free?"

Geraint nodded. "It was no true marriage from the start, as you know. Now I’ve done my best to amend the damage done. Your father and mine will just have to accept it and negotiate their business dealings some other way," he said scornfully. Geraint stared into her eyes steadily. "I’ve arranged to join the priesthood, against my father’s wishes but as had always been my deepest intention and desire. However, if it is your true and honest wish, I shall put that aside and marry you again."

Lisette stood abruptly and crossed to the window. She stared out at the untrimmed garden. What would the countryside of England look like in a thousand years? Would it still be green? And what would it be like to stand on another world, to walk beneath the Grand Nebula with her beloved man from the stars on her arm? Could the wildest of dreams really come true?

Trembling, she turned around. "I’d not stand in the way of your true vocation, Geraint. And… and… I do thank you."

"Anything I have, or can give you, is yours, Lisette."

She hesitated. "There is but one thing… your roan mare and a few of your clothes."

Despite the days and nights of hard riding, the mare seemed to sense that the difficult journeys were nearing an end. She raced with a will across the emerald sea of grass. On her flanks bounced bundles of Lisette’s few belongings.

In the saddle, dressed again as a man for ease of riding, Lisette rode. With each bounce of the mare’s easy gallop her heart both leapt and sank. She was free, free to be with Ashur, free to love him. Then the worry gnawed at her. Suppose he’d already gone. Suppose he didn’t really want to take her back to his world, his time. If he wasn’t at his ship she wouldn’t know where to look.

It had been dawn by the time Ashur reached his ship again. He’d taken the saddle and bridle off Barton, the stallion, rubbed him down and tethered him on a long lead at the forest verge where there was good grass. He patted his thanks of the bold horse and left him to eat and rest.

In the glade Ashur wandered about aimlessly for a time. He piled wood and kindling up for a fire but hadn’t the heart to light it. The day was yet warm. By the shimmering pool he stood for a long time, staring down at the water’s glassy surface, at the reflection of trees and sky. In the bushes by it he saw Lisette’s green silk dress, the first he saw her in. He ran his hand over the fabric thinking how its smoothness was but an inferior replica of the wearer’s silken flesh.

Spread upon the grass, where she’d put it to dry, was the sheer white chemise. He could still see Lisette in it, the way her sleek curves showed through the fine material. He gathered up the fragile whiteness and pressed it to his face hoping to catch even a faint whiff of Lisette’s sweet scent.

He let out his breath with a long sigh. Cradling the chemise in his arms he went back to the gray, dead embers of the fire by which they’d made love. The wool cloak was still laid out upon the grass. Not bothering to make a fire, or undress, Ashur laid down upon the cloak, using the silk chemise as a pillow, and went to sleep.

The stallion raised his head in the early evening twilight as his mare approached. Lisette’s heart sang at the sight of him. Ashur must still be here. Lisette quickly stripped off the saddle, baggage and bridle and tied the mare near the stallion. Pulling off her man’s hat she let her hair cascade free as she ran deeper into the forest toward the glade.

When she reached the edge of the glade she stopped. Ashur lay asleep on the ground. With a soft smile she pulled off the coat and let it fall to the ground. She stepped into the glade. Ashur didn’t stir. She tugged at the lacings of the doublet, letting it too fall to the grass.

Bare to the waist, she sat down upon the grass and pulled off the high boots and wool hose. Lisette stood, naked in the rosy twilight that slanted in through the sheltering trees. Above, in the small clear area between the trees, the sky darkened to a velvety indigo and the first faint stars began to appear.

Lisette stood on the soft grass, the refreshing breeze caressing her bare flesh. Ashur still slept, unaware she was here. Feeling in the pocket of the coat she found a match. Making barely a whisper of sound, Lisette crossed the glade to the pile of wood ready to be lit. She winced at the hiss of the match as she struck it. Ashur stirred but didn’t wake. She lit the kindling, blowing lightly on it until the flame bloomed.

A sound woke Ashur. He rolled over and stared at the crackling flames. He hadn’t lit the fire, had he? He sat up and stretched, looking around. The last ruddy shards of sunset colored the glade in crimson. Above the stars twinkled. He yawned, wishing he could recapture the dream he’d been having. In it a nymph had danced…

He heard music. Quietly in the twilight a song played. Ashur recognized the melody, a very old song that had not yet been written. Moonlight Sonata, that was it. He glanced around. Had Baby taken it upon herself to serenade him?

Ashur’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened. Peeking between the branches by the pool was his naked nymph. She danced out into the glade, humming as she twirled and spun. A rich flow of hair swirled about her in a rippling, glinting cape in the dancing light.

"Lisette," he breathed and in that single word spoke volumes in thanks and adulation.

For a long time Ashur only watched, mesmerized by the realization of his futile dream. Lisette danced for him in the glade, bare to the sky and the night. She was both as real and unreal to him as a hologram, a being of pure light and air.

Suddenly he had to touch her. He had to have her in his arms, warm and real. He pulled off his tunic, his breeches, baring himself as she was bared. He stood and moved to her. Their fingertips barely touched. Their eyes met and he fell into the glittering emerald wonder of them.

"How long do we have?" he whispered fearfully.

She touched his lips with her finger. "All the time in the universe."

As they moved together, into each other’s arms, they saw neither ground nor sky but only each other. Above them, in the starry firmament of the heavens, a shooting star streaked by.

THE END