Heloise whisked the blankets off Ailyth’s bed and started shaking the girl. “Wakey wakey, my little lambie,” she trilled, trying to appear casual and light-hearted. “Time to get up, ooooo we got a lot to do this mornin’.”

 

Ailyth’s sisters and the lady-maids pulled themselves up from their beds to watch the nursemaid acting in such a spectacular fashion. Ailyth, in turn, pulled the blankets back over her head and told Heloise to go away.

 

“Now then, dearie, don’t be like that,” Heloise said, laughing nervously at the attention she was getting. “The market be on today, and you said that you was gonna help me, on account on me bein’ old and frail and whatnot.”

 

Here one of Ailyth’s sisters burst out laughing; built like a bull, and with a temper to match, Heloise was not someone who could ever be described as old and frail.

 

“No, I don’t want to,” Ailyth murmured from underneath the covers. “I want to stay here and die.”

 

“She’s upset that father won’t let her marry Tristran,” one of her sisters told Heloise helpfully.

 

And that was the truth. Without Tristran, Ailyth didn’t care whether the world ended. To her it already had. All night she had been contemplating running away with him or even killing herself but, in the cold light of day, all she could do was hide away from the world and cry until her heart bled. She hadn’t lived fifteen years without learning that what her father said was law. If he publicly announced something, in front of so many people, then there was no going back. She would be married to this Monbardier boy, whether she wanted to or not.

 

“Go away, Heloise,” she moaned.

 

“Now list’n here,” Heloise hissed, “I said las’ night that I’d help you, and help you I will, but I can’t do nothin’ in the manor. Now, we’re gonna go to Dunstable market, an’ you’s gonna come willin’ and obedient, so nobody will suspect nothin’. All right?”

 

Ailyth’s head promptly appeared from underneath the blanket and she wiped her eyes. “Ok,” she said, and climbed out of her bed.

 

As they passed the wood and began their journey on the path to Dunstable, with Jack Miller as a chaperone, Heloise twittered, “Now this market’ll be a goodun; I hear there’ll be minstrels and fire eaters (ooo, I does like them!) and p’rhaps even a cock-fight! Why, I’ve heard they even got a pig with two faces, would you fancy!”

 

Getting no response from Ailyth, she glanced quickly around her and turned to face the girl. “Now, I said I’d help you, so tha’s what I’m doin’,” she hissed. “So you just smile some!

 

“Oh really,” said Ailyth. “And how are you going to help? Is Tristran hidden in this cart?”

 

Heloise smiled.  Whipping the covers off the cart there, pressed flat against the wood and looking slightly dishevelled, was...

 

“Tristran!” Ailyth cried, jumping into the back and nearly frightening the mule to death. Oh, my darling!” She began kissing him frantically. “Oh my love. They’re making me get married. I don’t want to, I don’t want to do it, but I don’t have any choice...”

 

“Shh, shh,” said Tristran, “don’t talk about that now, that’s still nearly two weeks away.”

 

“But what’ll happen to us? I’ll never see you again.”

 

“Later, later,” he said, kissing her once more. “We’ll sort something out. Don’t let this moment die.”

 

The fair was held once a week, and all the free men and women living within a twenty mile distance came to trade their goods, or buy things that weren’t available in their manor. The field where it was held was awash with people and stalls, and the noise of folk gossiping with distant friends and bartering for better prices almost drowned out the sound of the stall holders advertising their wares.

 

“Eggs for sale - the biggest, brownest eggs this side of Taunton!”

 

“Pretty ribbons for pretty ladies! Sir, won’t you buy a pretty ribbon for your pretty lady?”

 

“Penny whistles - charm the birds from the very trees.”

 

“I’d quite like a pretty ribbon,” Ailyth said slyly, holding her hair above her head. Tristran smiled and picked out a peacock-blue ribbon from the reams of brightly coloured strips hanging from the stall.

 

“You’re beautiful enough without such decorations,” he said, holding it against her black hair. “But I’ll buy it if you’d like.”

 

Ailyth shook her head. “No,” she said. “I was only teasing.” She would have liked a gift, something from Tristran that she could wear whenever she wanted, and no-one would ever guess what it meant to her. Slowly she put the ribbon back on the stall. No. She didn’t want to hide her love from the world, like it was a crime. She wanted every man to know it.

 

“I love you, you know,” she said quietly.

 

Tristran gazed back at her.  “I love you too,” he said.

 

They leaned towards each other for a kiss but, as their lips were about to brush, Heloise was upon them.

 

“Now, no more o’ that!” she said. “Not so openly, or I can’t help you no more,” she scolded. “Tongues are wagging furiously enough thanks to your brazenness. Remember, you’re in public.”

 

Despite this warning, they spent the day at the fair holding hands and causing a lot of scandal. There were plenty of people in Dunstable who knew that Ailyth was betrothed to another man. She didn’t care though, and even managed to enjoy herself, laughing at a pig boy who fell into a pile of muck and paying copper coins to pelt a fat farmer, dressed as a nun, with rotten cabbages. For those few hours, they felt that nothing could touch them. She even stopped worrying about the hart and stopped looking for faery-rings every time she saw a patch of new grass.

 

Over the following days, and with the tremendous help of Heloise, they still saw each other, despite Lady Eleanor’s best efforts to keep them apart. She found endless tasks to keep her daughter occupied, like collecting hedge-herbs and fallen apples, boiling great vats of goose-fat to use as candles, even washing the droppings from freshly-laid hens eggs. What she didn’t realise was that Tristran would hide behind the hedgerows and in the hen-houses, and once even disguised himself (badly) as a woman to help with the candle-making. At all cost, they would be together, yet there was always a shadow of sadness ahead of them. Some days the lovers could only snatch an hour together, hiding in the meadows and holding each other. Tristran was determined not to talk of the wedding but, as the day approached, even he could not avoid the subject.

 

“I’ll miss you,” he told her late one evening, holding Ailyth quietly in his arms. “I’ll never forget you.”

 

“You’re talking like I’m already gone,” Ailyth said with a dry throat. Tristran couldn’t reply to this; there was no answer, no solution. It wasn’t what they’d planned.

 

Ailyth, to her credit, didn’t bring up the fact that if Tristran had asked Lord Unwin if he could marry Ailyth then they might not have been in this mess now, but she didn’t have to. Tristran knew. Nothing that could be said now would change the fact that they would soon be torn apart. All they could do was enjoy the little time that Heloise had bought them, and try not to think of the future.

 

That at least was Heloise’s aim, but she did not reckon with Ailyth’s parents and Matthew de Monbardier himself. If she had then Ailyth might have spent the days leading up to the start of her curse in the ways the woodland folk had intended - in blissful happiness, enjoying snatched moments with her love and trying not to think of her impending marriage. But although the nursemaid had worked so hard to give Ailyth and Tristran some time together, knowing that her marriage would mark the end of her freedom, she didn’t foresee her plans failing.

 

Matthew de Monbardier arrived at the manor and cast a spell. Ailyth watched him from her favourite perch on the stone keep, sulking and heartbroken and secretly hoping that Tristran would come out of nowhere and beat him over the head with a mace. He didn’t, but she enjoyed the thought.

 

He was a short, attractive man with lion-like features and a neat brown goatee woven into a point with golden threads. He was dressed all in black, with a pretentiously long cloak edged in scarlet, and he brought presents, which pleased Lord Unwin. He also brought with him a few friends, a fawning minstrel who sang false songs of his bravery, and a serving girl called Elfrida, who Ailyth didn’t like at all. She couldn’t put her finger on it at first but, as time passed, she began to suspect that Elfrida was her fiancé’s lover. When Matthew gave her to Ailyth she almost burst out laughing at his cheek.

 

He was a fool, Ailyth decided early on, and a little bit oily at that, but at least he was attractive. Yet what an idiot; always guffawing at some slight joke and creeping around her father. Tristran, she thought as Matthew kissed her cheek, please take me away.

 

And suddenly Tristran was there, drawing his sword to defend her honour. For a second she wondered what he was doing before she realised that he was about to challenge Matthew, who had been too forward in his kiss.

 

Matthew looked down at him from his honey-coloured stallion and laughed before walking on, leaving Tristran standing there humiliated. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked away.

 

Ailyth felt guilty, and wondered if she should have said something, but what could she say to him when he had been so embarrassed?

 

Heloise had not planned the most wonderful day that they would have together and if Ailyth had not felt her imprisonment coming so close she wouldn’t have behaved so recklessly. However, the day after Matthew arrived at the manor was May Day, and she was in a strong mind to enjoy it.

 

May Day was the day that they welcomed summer, and it always brought a diversion for everyone to enjoy. Usually Lord Unwin and his family would attend, and they would watch the festivities and smile at the revellers but, this year, Ailyth had other things in mind. As the family took their places at the high table overlooking the stalls and the ribbons, Matthew sat next to Ailyth.

 

“Well,” he said with a forced smile, “this should be fun.”

 

Ailyth rolled her eyes and slouched in her chair, trying to grab handfuls of grass to fiddle with. Oaf, she thought, and threw balls of grass at him when he wasn’t looking.

 

The maypole was a large beech tree with high branches, which Jack Miller had tied with various coloured ribbons. The serf maids came out in plain white dresses, with daisies in their hair, and danced around it. Today was the day that the winter would be finally put to rest, and the hot sun beat down on the serfs and the gentry like a blessing. The grass was lush and green, the sky a sapphire blue, stalls had been put up so that everyone could enjoy the summer’s early fruits and small colourful flags lapped at the wind. Behind them, the whole manor seemed to sparkle, with the potential of the coming months unfurling before Ailyth’s eyes.

 

This is a wonderful place, she thought to herself as the music started and the serfs cheered and drank elderflower wine. I will not leave it.

 

“Such silliness,” said Matthew, and Ailyth raised her eyebrows at him.

 

“Fool,” she replied quietly and, before he could respond, she slipped from her seat and joined the girls.

 

There was a loud cheer as the serfs saw the young lady of the manor pick a ribbon and prance around the tree, and Ailyth saw both her father and Matthew rise from their seats in horror. She gave them a little wave as she broke from the dance and followed the other girls to where the young men stood. Each had a willow branch that they held above their heads and the girls wove in and out of them. It came as no surprise to Ailyth, or anyone else, that Tristran was one of them.

 

“I'm sorry about yesterday,” she called as she ran past him.

 

“Hmmm,” Tristran replied as he swapped positions with another boy. “We’ll talk about that later.”

 

“It was just a kiss, I had to.”

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“I don’t want to marry him.”

 

She stopped next to him and grabbed the other end of his branch, not seeing the willow-sprite as it jumped onto the grass and gabbled furiously at them, and together they started spinning slowly.

 

“Well...I’ve been thinking about that.”  They both stopped still as another couple danced under their branch. “Tomorrow...your wedding...what would you say if I came and rescued you?”

 

Ailyth lowered her lashes as more couples danced around them, her heat pummelling her chest. “I’m listening...” she said.

 

“I’ll get us two horses, and you meet me by the tithe barn at midnight, and we’ll ride away together,” Tristran said.

 

Ailyth stared at him. “Are you serious?” she said. “Where will we go?”

 

“I’m deadly serious. We’ll go back to my home, my father will pay off your father and the de Monbardiers, we’ll quickly get married and then nobody will be able to part us.”

 

She wanted to believe him, in all truthfulness, but how could that ever work? She had never met Tristran’s father, and to run away with her lover would bring all manner of dishonour; not just on her own family, but on Tristran’s too. Could they ever live in peace with a family whom they had brought shame upon?

 

“It won’t work,” she whispered as they danced closer to each other. “Your father will be furious with us!”

 

“He wn't, he really won't.   Do you think you’d mind being cut off from your family?”

 

Ailyth glanced at her parents, murderous looks in their eyes, and shuddered. “What do you think?” she asked.

 

There, in the middle of all the dancing and laughing, Tristran took hold of Ailyth and whispered in her ear, “I love you”.  When they kissed she knew that nothing would be able to stop their love. With the reckless sun warming her skin she fervently believed that they would be married, and even the roars of her father as he tore them apart didn’t frighten her. Matthew, she noticed cheerfully, did nothing to defend her honour.

 

Lord Unwin grabbed her firmly by the arm and hissed, ‘Get you inside now, strumpet.”

 

They stood in the entrance to the great hall, and Lord Unwin fixed his daughter with a cold stare. “You are marrying Matthew, not Tristran,” he growled.

 

“In my head, I’m marrying Tristran,” she replied.

 

Lord Unwin cuffed her around her ears. “It’s Matthew you’ll be taking to your bed, so get rid of those stupid thoughts. This marriage is going ahead, and there’s no arguing with me! I’ll see you dead before you shame me. I’d kill you myself.” He shook the girl roughly, in case he hadn’t made his point. “There’s nowhere you can run to, nowhere you can hide. I’d find you both, do you hear? And I’d strangle the lad with my bare hands before your eyes if I found out that he had...deflowered you. The best thing you can do now is forget him.”

 

Except that Ailyth had no intention of forgetting Tristran, especially with freedom and a life at his home only days away. She was worried by her father’s threats, she couldn’t deny his temper and she had lost count of the times he had beaten her for being noisy, for being outspoken, for being a daughter and not a son, but she was so certain that their plan would succeed. It had to. What was there to look forward to if it didn’t?

 

Sneaking into her room to fetch her embroidery, Ailyth was confronted with a startling image she had never paid much attention to before. The embroidery scene she was working on showed a man with long, fair hair carrying the banner of St George to his raven-haired lover. She had never seen it so clearly: somehow the knight was Tristran, and she had sewn herself into the picture. Sudden fear gripped her. Jesu, what if they didn’t manage to pull off their plan? Would they really be parted forever? What if Tristran’s father wasn’t happy after all, what if her father caught them? Her mother found her moments later, sobbing onto the linen with her hair plastered over her swollen face as though she was a little girl.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” she said harshly, looking at her daughter in disgust. “Crying on such a day. You should think yourself lucky that your father’s chosen a young husband for you, and not a hairy old man who belches and farts.”

 

Ailyth wanted to laugh, but somehow it came out as a strangled sob.

 

“Is he not a fine man? Doesn’t he send your blood racing in your veins?”

 

“All of that and more,” the girl lied. “He will be a fine husband but...but...” her sobs overcame her once more. “But...Tristran...”

 

Her mother sneered at her. “In a year you will have a child. Now don’t tense up so Ailyth, you must know that babies come soon after marriage. Do you think that you will have time to worry about Tristran?”

 

“But he’s my soul’s mate...”

 

“He is no such thing, you silly little girl! He is a pleasant boy of near-your-age, and he likes the company of the young ladies of the manor, nothing more.”

 

The world stopped and ice ran through Ailyth as she heard these words. “What do you mean?”

 

“Now girl, don’t tell me that you haven’t seen how round Meg the wash-girl’s got, and after she was caught rolling with Tristran in the stable at Yule-tide?”

 

Ailyth pulled herself away, the tears drying on her face. “No, that isn’t true,” she said, ‘though her head was spinning with the news. “He would not dishonour a lady in that way. And he loves me. Didn’t you see how upset he looked when Matthew kissed my hand? You lie to me, madam...”

 

“Well, Meg is no lady; we can be sure of that,” Lady Eleanor sniffed. “And of course he felt his blood rise when he saw you being kissed, he’s a jealous boy. Now where do you think you’re off to?” she asked as Ailyth broke free and ran towards the door. “No good will come of going crying to him!”

 

Her words fell on ears unwilling to hear anything but Tristran’s denial. How could he have lovers when he said that he was in love with her? Lies, all lies.

 

He was standing in the half-light behind the pillars, talking to a girl. Ailyth’s heart stopped as she realised that it was Meg he was with. He was cupping her chin gently with one hand and it was clear that they were close. Was he...flirting with her?

 

“Tristran...” she said quietly . 

 

He looked up casually and smiled, squeezing Meg’s hand before waving her away. Ailyth stared at him incredulously.

 

“Another feast,” he commented, a touch of bitterness in his voice as he gestured to the preparations being made. “Tomorrow night. There will be dancing. And the guest of honour will be racing across the country-side...”

 

Ailyth stood, stunned. There had been something going on between them, something which she had interrupted. And now Tristran was trying to act casually, pretending that nothing had happened. Seeing him there brought forth the fury she hadn't known.

 

“How dare you make fun of me,” she fumed, slapping him as soon as she was near. “How dare you even talk to me?”

 

“What?” Tristran gasped, reeling from the unexpected blow. “What’s this about?”

 

“I hear you are to be a father,” she spat. “May I be the first to offer my congratulations.”

 

She waited for Tristran to deny it, to show his anger at being wrongly accused, to swear at her, even to hate her for believing such lies. Any reaction would have pleased her, as long as he told her it wasn’t true. Instead, the colour slowly drained from his face.

 

Ailyth blinked back fresh tears as he looked away. “You monster,” she hissed, surprised at the venom in her voice. “You monster!” She began hitting him, pounding her fists against his chest in her weak, grief-stricken force. “You bowed down on your knees to promise your love to me, you...you said you loved me...”

 

“I do love you!” Tristran cried, trying to hold her still.

 

“You’re a liar!” Ailyth screamed, and the whole hall fell silent. “You’ve been running around with your whore the whole time that you’ve known me!” A few people sniggered.

 

“She’s not a whore,” Tristran snapped, dragging Ailyth out of the sight of all others. “You don’t know anything about her, you silly little girl. She’s just... naive. And who are you to judge Meg anyway? These past two days you’ve been jumping between two different men! Kissing them both, no less!”

 

Ailyth felt the heat rush to her face as she tried to choke back her anger. “Don’t compare me to your whore! How could I have turned down Matthew’s kiss with my father standing there?”

 

“You showed no dignity, Ailyth, no honour.” The humiliation that Tristran had felt when Matthew laughed at him still bled. Tristran was a proud boy and not someone who could forgive insults easily.

 

"Honour, honour, honour!  Is that all you’re worried about Tristran, the honourable thing to do! Well, answer this; is it honourable to go court one woman whilst having a babe with another?” Ailyth’s voice slowed, as though a truth had just occurred to her for the first time. “Jesu, I feel like such a cretin. My mother was right. I have been like a child. When I think about how we behaved yesterday, and with my wedding tomorrow...”

 

“The wedding will not happen, Ailyth, you don’t have to marry him, you can marry me! Have you forgotten already?”

 

“I’m not going to marry you if you’ve been with another girl!” She noticed Meg watching from a distance, and she raised her voice. “You got that strumpet pregnant!”

 

“I did not!”

 

“Really?” Ailyth mocked. “Well, if you’re not the father, who is?”

 

She saw Tristran glance uncertainly at Meg, and the air was thick with unspoken words. Please deny it Tristran, she thought in her anger. Please say I’m not speaking the truth. Please, please let us still run away tonight.

Finally Meg lowered her eyes, and Ailyth knew that he wasn’t going to answer. A sad smile crossed her lips.

 

“You realise, don’t you, that I really thought you loved me when we kissed. I thought you had jumped out of Camelot and into my life; you played the part of a knight so well. Well, maybe you will be a knight one day. Maybe they will sing about you in love songs. But,” she murmured, touching her chest gently, “you will never be my knight. Not the way you were. You’ve been lying to me. How can I ever forgive that?”

 

“How’ve I lied to you?”

 

Anger flashed back into her face. “You’ve had a lover whilst you were professing your love to me, and today you almost tricked me into being your whore instead of letting me marry an... honest man.” She stumbled over the words, but Matthew was her weapon now. At least she couldn’t yet fault him on his honesty. “You’ve been lying to me since we met.”

 

She went to leave, but Tristran pulled her back. “I told you that I loved you, and I meant it,” he whispered, his eyes searching her hardened face for a flicker of life. “We will run away tonight. Please say that you’ll still marry me.”

 

A shadow slowly crossed Ailyth’s face. “I’m betrothed, Tristran, and the whole manor knows it. What do you think they’d say if I ran away with you?”

 

“Ten minutes ago you were going to do just that! What’s wrong with you, why are you being like this?”

 

She stepped slowly away from him, feeling strangely calm even though everything that she had hoped for was breaking down around her. “Maybe ten minutes ago I would have married you if you’d asked...but I changed my mind when I realised that you were a worthless, lying piece of dirt.”

 

“You think you’re better than me?” he called out to her, no longer able to control his temper and clutching at straws. “You think you’re so pure? I saw the lust in your eyes when you met him. You’d have gone to bed with him if you’d have had the chance!”

 

She turned around and faced him one last time before she was gone. “No, Tristran,” she said, her sad smile returning, “I wouldn’t have.”

 

Black shadows twitched around the pillars as Tristran stormed away. Two men, clad in dark capes, and both with half-smiles on their faces.

 

“She wants you, my lord,” the first man said, leaning against one pillar and taking a knife from his belt. “ ‘Lust in her eyes...’” He chuckled to himself. “Even the boy knew that she was imagining herself in your bed.”

 

Matthew de Monbardier stepped out of the darkness and stared after the young squire. “But you heard her deny it,” he muttered.

 

“The lady is coy, nothing more. Let her pretend to be innocent. Twenty-four hours isn’t a long time to wait, and after you’re married...she will not say no.”

 

Matthew snorted. “She’ll have no right to say no. I’ll be her husband and master!”

 

He kicked the pillar violently with the back of his heel. “I like him not!” he growled. “We must be rid of him!”

 

His companion looked up at him, but said nothing. Matthew snatched the knife and began storming after the squire.

 

“Is this a good idea, my lord?” his companion asked, running after him. “To deal with the boy in such a manner, I mean. Lord Unwin has already told you he plans to send him home, and he’s so angry at the boy that he has sworn he will be gone first thing in the morning. And besides, the girl hates him now. He’s upset her!”

 

“Yes, he’s upset my lady love, and for that I’ll kill him!”

 

Matthew’s companion pulled him back and gently took the knife. “He’ll be gone by morning, and she will forget him. There was hatred in her voice.”

 

“Hate is too passionate an emotion for my liking. And passion is dangerous in a woman,” Matthew said darkly.

 

His friend raised an eyebrow and leaned forward. “Hate is hate,” he said quietly.

 

Matthew leaned closer to his friend and, laughing, took the knife back. “When we light one fire,” he whispered, “do we not first take the flame from another?” He waved the blade at his friend, resolute. “Tristran will be out of this manor before the moon rises,” he smirked. “You can be sure of that.”

 

***

 

Ailyth took off her gown and went to bed still in her chemise. Raw grief numbed her and she pressed her face against her pillow to stifle her sobs. A hand rested on her shoulder and she turned, to stare into the face of her trembling brother, Ranulf.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I teased you about Tristran. I didn’t know.”

 

Ailyth stared at him. Then her face crumpled and she buried herself back in her pillow.

 

***

 

The frosted moon gave the only light over the manor, and Tristran was alone. There was so much to think about, and he could not think of a single thing whilst so many people moved through the manor, threatening to catch him in tears. He had to get away to feel miserable on his own, and to think of Ailyth.

 

The water in the moat was blacker than Matthew’s soul, and Tristran settled himself by its bank. Some old wives said that if you looked into moonlit water you would see the face of the one you loved, but he could see nothing there. She was gone from him, and he knew that she would never come back. She never even gave him the chance to explain.

 

No, he couldn’t stay here. There was nothing here for him anymore, except for Ailyth’s hatred and, no doubt, Matthew’s rage. And he knew he had annoyed Lord Unwin. Jesu, it was all such a mess. There was nothing on God’s earth that would persuade him to go back into that manor, and face so many people who hated him.

 

Poor Meg. She would have to cope alone without him. Should he stay for her? No, no. He had done enough for her.

 

A ripple formed on the surface of the moat as tears slid silently down Tristran’s face. Thank God there was no one here to see him cry. No one who cared enough. Overwhelming despair washed over him. Once he was gone, would anyone truly miss him?

 

He dipped his hand into the water. It wasn’t so cold that he would not be able to bear it. It wouldn’t last long. He dropped into the moat, shivering as the water rose to his chest. It seemed to take forever for the prickling cold to turn warmer as his body adjusted. He took a last breath, and cast his eyes up at the manor house. Was that Heloise looking down at him, shaking her head sadly? He blinked the tears away and swallowed. No, it must have been a trick of the light.

 

He hoped one day Ailyth would forgive him.

 

He hoped that it would be quick.

 

And, as the midnight silence fell all across the manor, Grethel cried.