A Tale of Faerie

'Long ago, maid. I count not easily in your years, but a full three seasons before you were born.'

I considered his words, struck silent by the revelation. Three seasons? Could he - no, I refused to consider that. This beautiful faerie youth was an Immortal, incapable of making a woman with child.

He spoke again, softly but with an edge of humour.

'I think your mother made sure to lie with her husband the following night.'

The warmth of his wing soothed me, but my heart struck chill. He turned his head and gently kissed my forehead.

'Ye be not my child, maid. If so 'twere, I'd never have taken ye. And ye'd have borne the marks of faerie.'

'What are they?' I asked through numb lips. This revelation came not easy to me, but it seemed that so much that had always puzzled me might be explained this night.

'In body, the babe will be thin and small, sallow coloured, with black hair and green eyes. They may have the stumps of wings or marks on their backs where wings should be. They thrive not well on earthling food, but eat uncooked herbs and vegetables.'

'Is that all?' I asked, almost disappointed to remember my hearty appetite, bouncing brown hair and blue eyes, and stories from my family of my robust infancy.

'No. In mind - there are some - but it is mere tales.' He sounded uncertain now, feeling for his words.

'It is said that some may be in appearance full earthchildren, but their souls and minds know their way different. As if ... as if they know, know they come from elsewhere. They dream of flying... of having wings. They - weep - for they know not what, when the wind tosses the tops of the trees. They love the trees.... love....' he fell silent, and I sat rigid, daring not to move a muscle. His fumbling speech had laid out, as in a palimpsest, all that had been different about me as a child.

'All these have I had as long as I can recall.' I said, in cold clear tone.

He moved his arm and made to stand, but I caught at him and held him tight.

'I am your child! Aren't I! I am yours, fruit of your loins, and you have been my lover! You are my FATHER and you have been my LOVER!'

But even as I cried out these words, he was holding me, naked against my nakedness, holding me tight and warm, and the words fell out into the void and lost all meaning.

'I am not your father, maid. My seed may have lodged in some corner of your infant mind, but you are fruit of your earthly parents.. I watched your begetting, the night after my last flight with your mother. I watched your begetting..... '

He took me back, I gowned and shawled myself, he produced a robe and covered himself also, and we sat by the banks of the river in the moonlight, close enough to touch, but talking, talking.

Ham made offer for my hand in marriage and my parents agreed 'twas a goodly match. I was fond of Ham but only as friend, not more. I asked for time, said kindly but not encouraging words to Ham, and sighed with relief when he courted Emma from the village and married her instead.

The woodsfolk moved on to another forest, save for one young man who Milord retained as forester and gamekeeper. His name was Jamie, and he was my faerie lover, although in daylight his wings showed not, being by some enchantment able to fold small against his back, under his jerkin. I would see him every Sunday in church, and he made it his business to become known to my father, doing some small favours and work for him now and then. He found much greater favour in my mother's sight than I would have dared hope. I never asked her about moonlit flights with a faerie lover, in the light of day such words drained from my mouth, but her eyes were full of happiness for me the day Jamie laid out his offer and my father asked my wishes in the matter.

I asked to speak alone with Jamie, and we walked in the meadow, in view of others but out of earshot.

'You will not age. I will grow old, and be childless, and you will remain a youth. How will we manage?'

He hesitated before replying.

'There are - ways. I could take you as wife, and as you say, we would live your lifetime together, you ageing, childless, and I would not change. Or.... oh my love, it shakes my heart with fear to even think of it. But there is another way, if you would have me as an ordinary man....'

I was struck to silence. To have my beautiful lover, yes, but as a mortal. No more flights, no more faerie delights or fantasies. Just an ordinary, earthbound mortal. I turned and gazed at him, and reached for his hands - his big, rough, work-hardened hands. They were already different, or was that the enchantment of his disguise?

'I would take you as husband either way, Jamie. It is you, the person you are, that I love, not the flying, and the magical nights.'

He gazed down at me, blinking, his face flushed.

'Are you sure, Madlyn? You must be very sure. Once this is started it cannot be stopped, and I cannot be restored.' His hands were grasping my fingers tightly and his voice was rough with his passion.

'You are willing to turn away from your people, to become a man of earth, to face decay and old age in the blinking of an eye, compared to your own. If you are willing to do that for me, I am humbled beyond thinking of how great your love must be for me. How could I be less than sure?'

'There will be changes in my person, Madlyn. I will be - coarser, rougher. I will be as other men. Not only the wings will go... I will be lesser in other ways. Less able to pleasure you. Would you accept that also?'

I held his hands as tight as I could, and smiled at his anxious, dear, beautiful face. The shadow of a beard was already creeping on it, where before he had been as a youth.

'I accept you, Jamie. If you were to lose your member altogether as well as your wings, I would accept you.'

He blinked, then I spoke quickly.

'Of course, that loss would make the getting of children very difficult, and I would be glad to have you only diminished!'

He stood very still for a full minute, breathing shallow and fast, his eyes fixed on mine. Then a smile spread over his face, an expression of such joy and happiness that I laughed to see it in sheer delight.

'It is done. I must leave you for a space, for a few days, to prepare for our life to come. My love, my darling maid, I must court you now as a man of earth, not of air.'

I was startled at the speed with which events had moved, but the deep abiding joy in my heart drowned out all disappointment that my nights of moonlit aerial lovemaking were over.

'I think then that we should return to my parents, and tell them I have accepted your hand.'

My mother wept with joy as we returned, and later, when she and I were busy in the linen room, she said softly to me,

'Once, long ago, I had dreams of such a man. He would come to the chamber window and touch my hand, and I could fly with him above the clouds. He looked like your Jamie, in a way.'

'I had such dreams as well, Mother.' I replied, looking only at the sheets I was folding. 'He also looked like Jamie, only also of faerie. And I could fly only so long as I held his hand.'

She knew I was saying but a small part of the dreams, and I knew she had done likewise, but we smiled at each other in good understanding. There are some things, even from dreams, that may not be told.

Jamie and I were properly wed a month later, and we lived in the gamekeeper's cottage on Milord's estate. Jamie was as all other men - but taller, broader, and to my eyes far more handsome. He drank little, was a sober, grave, hardworking man, and our lovemaking in the marriage bed was a strong, happy delight to us both. His manhood had not been lessened to any great extent, even though his great wings were vanished without trace, and we no longer flew on moonlit nights. He still could move through the woodlands without startling any bird, nor even the deer; and as the years passed we had three beautiful, robust children to delight in.

Now we are older, our children are near full-grown, my parents have joined their parents under the sod of the churchyard having lived to ripe, contented old age. My hair is streaked with silver, as is Jamie's hair and beard. We walk in the woods together in the summer evenings, talking of our life together, discussing the children, and sometimes Jamie will stop, his head will go up like a deer on the scent, and somewhere at the edge of vision there are flitting, fleeting shadows. Life has been good to us; we have had our share of sickness, but nothing deadly or long lasting. My herbs and simples have kept many from death's door, and Jamie's quiet, constant strength is a great blessing to the whole village.

And now, years later. Jamie and I are both old, delighting more in sitting in the warm sun than walking around. Our bones are old, our minds hark back to our youth, the green-gold sunlit beechwoods where first we met, the magical, unspoken weeks of our first loving. We sit together, eat together, sleep together, our unity a seamless joy so deep it is hard to comprehend. It is bitter winter now, we are abed, the cold strikes even through our thick-walled cottage. I am awake, lying close to Jamie's bulk, feeling the warmth from him. My eyes are dimmed now, my ears feeble, and I am ... falling asleep... sighing out , so tired, so long in this weary old body, but feeling the warmth from Jamie keeping me here... I feel more than hear him sigh also, and sigh again.

'Madlyn... Mad... come fly ' he murmurs, and I smile and take his hand in mine. Those words have been our secret all these long years, the tender secret code for joining in love. I sigh, try to move my other arm to caress him... but my arm will not move, it lies there stubbornly heavy.

'Jamie.. I can't move' I mumble through cold lips.

He must have fallen asleep, he doesn't answer me. I feel a pang of pain and loneliness, that awful tearing pain I felt only before when Mother died... then it goes, and I am so peaceful, so warm and happy, lying here in bed with Jamie's hand holding mine firmly. I can feel the strong pulse of his blood in his fingers. His fingers. ... no longer thickened with age, but supple, young, strong again. I move my hand in his, and he grips me, then releases a little. My other arm, instead of lying there heavy and unmoving, I can move it now, and I reach over to embrace my husband. It moves so easily, so light and ready, like the limb of a young girl. I hear Jamie's rich chuckle as he sits up in bed, still holding my hand, raising me up also into the air, floating in the cold winter air above the bed. He spreads his great wings, folding me close and warm in his embrace.

'Come, maid, Madlyn my love. Come fly.'

We rise up through the closed casement, leaving behind two old husks in the bed, and fly up into the night sky, speeding sure and straight to rejoin his people. Jamie lets go my hand, and I struggle, panicking at the thought of falling .... and with a surge of power, my own wings unfurl, and hold me on the night currents.

Jamie looks at me, smiling his beautiful slanting smile, his green eyes lambent with joy.

'It was there all along, my love. All along, you had it in you, somewhere.'