by Purple Hazel
Alguin’s men billeted themselves inside of homes with various families in the town, posing as simple farmers. The ruse was designed to make things appear as nothing more than an undefended village to any raider scouts in the area—mostly Saxons from the north of Europe, Alguin guessed.
The bait was soon taken, and one day a nearby farmer reported back that a small group of odd-looking horsemen were seen meandering about the meadows and fields near the village, scouting out the town’s defenses. Within a week of that sighting, Alguin predicted, a horde of fearsome raiders would most likely appear on nearby hillsides ready to gallop in and plunder the town.
“We had already by then prepared the village for attack, and set up barricades that forced the raiders to ride into the village through several spike pits and muddy quagmires that would slow them down,” he told me. It became a death trap for most of them, and with the aid of emboldened villagers pelting the unhorsed raiders with stones or javelins, Alguin and his band then emerged from houses and buildings in full battle armor to massacre the fiends. By midday, the battle was over, all the raiders were dead, and the village had sustained only a few unfortunate deaths at the hands of the invaders. Alguin’s men survived; but it had been a bloody fight.
“After the battle, my men and I went to the nearby stream to bathe,” he then added. “Stripped to the waste, cleaning off blood and gore from the battle…that’s when a local monk suddenly noticed my curved back.”
One side of Alguin had developed differently from the other you see, and with years of combat and strain, he’d become hunched over to one side. It was barely noticeable when he was in his armor or wearing loose clothing. But when naked, his deformed spine was quite visible to even the untrained eye.
Now free from further threats, the villagers back in the town could finally grieve for their dead and nurse those injured in the fray. And though the mercenaries had not suffered any dead or even seriously injured among their unit, several of the townspeople had died gruesome deaths in the pitched battle. The warriors had saved their town yes, but certainly not stood alone to fight off the invaders. The villagers had to help in the fight, and they were certainly not skilled warriors.
They still should have been grateful for the aid, nevertheless. Without Alguin’s men, those Saxons would have swept in and burned their entire town. Yet that evil monk saw an opportunity to advance his reputation and diminish the heroic acts of Alguin’s band. Playing upon the villager’s fears and apprehensions about the soldiers now living in their town—and no doubt their grief over their own dead—the monk leveled the absurd accusation that Alguin’s deformities might serve to explain his mighty prowess in battle; perhaps because he was in fact possessed by the devil. Maybe that meant that his comrades were demons as well!
This was rubbish, just like the accusations of witchcraft leveled toward me at Camelot, but the monk soon found a receptive audience. In those days you see, it was common for folks to believe that a birth defect might indicate demonic possession. Even red hair could doom any innocent new-born baby girl and her unwitting parents to a life of suspicion or persecution. Now this monk had a pretext for banishing him!
Mind you, nothing on earth intimidated Alguin’s men, but suspicions leveled by the church that implied demon spirits existing within their midst—that certainly compelled them to withhold any support for their comrade. They couldn’t stand with Alguin and defend his character. They had to consider being suspected right along with him; and when the issue had elevated to the local bishop as a potential task for the Inquisition, Alguin knew he and Allora would have to part ways from his men and flee the village. Otherwise, they might all face trial for witchcraft.
And would the nobleman who hired them take their side? Against the church? Absolutely not! This would only serve to implicate the lord himself. Besides, if they were all accused of being demons and put on trial, the lord would no longer have to pay for their services, now would he? Alguin knew he had his young wife to think of, and his fellow warriors to consider. He knew he had to escape before the issue grew into an official inquiry.
“Thus began our long odyssey which led us to seek Merlin’s help,” said Alguin sadly. He was the only one capable of protecting them or saving them. They would have to live off the land until they found a new home; or perish in the wilderness in wintertime. It resulted in the young couple eventually coming to this very cottage.
“But our time on the run took its toll,” continued Alguin. “Allora was woefully unprepared for life as a fugitive living off the land; and too frail and fragile to handle the strain. We were constantly on the move. She caught the fever somehow, and when she died a year later, it left me alone in the world…to grieve in the darkness of my dungeon…all because of that scheming fellow and his absurd allegations.”
Chapter 8
Holiday in the Village
It saddens me now, as I sit here knitting, to think of how Alguin’s life and mine were so similar. Accusations, then persecution by the church. So much he’d been through, much like myself.
No, I couldn’t change his terrible past which had thrust him suddenly and quite unexpectedly into my life. But I also couldn’t change my own, which ironically led me to be his woman, living in these woods as his willing companion. Somehow fortune had twisted and turned, only to join our two fates, and in this we found ourselves sincerely grateful for the peace it brought us.
Alguin and I had a beautiful life together, you see? It was so satisfying every day, to know I had a man all to myself. He was almost mine emotionally speaking—completely mine in a physical sense—and he was coming back home to me in the morning every day after work. Besides, what I thought I’d originally wanted, to be adventurous like Ywedelle and have legions of lovers at the castle, had only resulted in me making a mistake that I could not justify in any way.
As the years pass, I’ve frequently thought back to that moment in the cave, when those cruel soldiers dragged me down to the dungeon, chained me up, and left me. They had once been my friends. I’d cared for them. I’d given them baths and tended to their wounds. Yet they secured my wrists in what I thought was a moldy prison cell and walked away, abandoning me in the dark. At that terrible moment, when I feared for my life, I wanted it to end quickly; as punishment for my sinfulness.
I tell you this now, but I never shared it with Alguin while he lived. The moment prior to when I met him was the lowest point in my life. I wanted to die, cold and naked in that dark cell. But God in his mercy had quite different plans for me. I had been given another chance. My existence was once forfeit and this loving man was my savior. Being accused of witchcraft in King Arthur’s court was truly a death sentence, and I guess for all intents and purposes, my life—or maybe I should say my previous life—had ended that day.
Now I was allowed to continue on with Alguin as my provider, much like the ogre from my dream, only far better. He would be my lover, my protector, and my companion. Perhaps he even loved me a little bit, too, I could only guess. But I didn’t bother worrying about it, really. He’d saved my life, taken my body, made love to me better than any other man ever could, and I belonged to him. I had to care for this man for the rest of his life.
Not that it was difficult! I appreciated this task that the Lord had given me, and enjoyed our many years together. Having just one man who satisfied all my needs—that was better than having ten different mediocre lovers who got me only half the way there. Having only one person to care for and one personality to manage and understand - that finally gave me inner peace. I had lived my life never knowing what I truly wanted until I finally found it! Maybe that’s the way it goes for everyone…
That entire first year it was like we were newlyweds. I worked on the house every afternoon while Alguin slept, then prepared his meal before he’d be heading back to work. His body had most definitely withered a bit from years of eating mostly fish in that cavern. He occasionally would go out from the dungeon to pick some berries or acquire
fresh vegetables; otherwise he’d sneak about the castle during the night gathering supplies as he needed them.
In his defense, Alguin didn’t really want to care for himself during those years after Allora’s death. He was lonely and despairing for the loss of his wife. This also made him distant and difficult to communicate with at times, even with me there comforting and caring for him.
I was always interested when he wanted to talk about Allora, because it gave me a chance to understand him more. I couldn’t be selfish about it—tell him to focus on me and forget his deceased wife. I didn’t want that anyway. It made him who he was, and I loved him for what he was and who he was to me. His past included being in love with another woman, and he missed her. I accepted that; and in time he gradually became less distant—more expressive whenever he could see that I needed him to.
Amazingly, as violent of a person as he was, he was remarkably sensitive to a woman’s needs, both physical and emotional. I must say over the years he became even more kind and appreciative as he began to realize that I’d never leave him. That’s really what he needed from me.
First off, I got him to eat more nutritious food and he began getting healthier. I of course played the good wife and motherly figure by admonishing him for not taking better care of himself. He looked healthy as a horse, but he seemed to cough far too often. His calm and patient reply was almost always that in the past he ate when he was hungry, sought out foods that he felt his body craved, and drank only sparingly.
Perhaps he was lucky, too, in several ways. The fresh fish had kept him nourished, plus the water he had access to in the cavern was very high in minerals. It kept him from getting sick, and his energy levels were amazing for an aging man. He clearly looked older than me, but frankly I couldn’t keep up with the man. I was compelled to get to bed early at night—in order to be ready for his return in the morning—because when he was desiring sex I knew I needed to be especially well-rested!
Three and sometimes four days a week he’d come home wanting me. I could see it in his eyes every time; and knew I had to be prepared. He’d return from the dungeon covered in smoky soot, sometimes spattered with fresh blood from a prisoner he’d been interrogating. This only bothered me initially though. I soon began to appreciate the advantages. When he’d spent the night torturing a prisoner, his pent-up desires for intimacy would be quite overwhelming! On those mornings he was even more like that incredible ogre from my dream who had made love to me so intensely.
He could channel all that rage from his gruesome tasks the night before, and turn it into phenomenal lovemaking. When he’d finish I’d have to nap for another hour at least before getting on with my day. It was that exhausting. In all those years of living with the man, he was definitely the most incredible lover I’d ever experienced …
And while we’re at it he was a good gardener too! We planted it in our second spring living here. What a project! Even with me being a farmer’s daughter; I still had to remember how to work that hard again. The snows had melted, the trees were blooming, and we had a clearing nearby in which to create one. God, it was so much fun.
I worked right alongside my lovable giant, cutting back the bushes and shrubs, clearing the ground, tilling the soil, and planting seeds. I of course should have already known what I was doing. But Alguin? He took to it far better than me and remarkably fast. He learned what I knew, then applied his own common sense to accomplish the rest. Over the years he seemed to get better and better and smarter and smarter about how to keep a decent garden in the middle of an old forest.
The first matter was figuring out what would grow the best, and then what to grow where and what to plant when. Alguin became an attentive student, and absorbed knowledge from everywhere he could about how to get better yields. As VILE he wore a disguise; so naturally once he changed his appearance and moved about the town and countryside, he could pose as most anything he wished. I made him clothes to look like a peasant farmer or even a traveling merchant whenever we needed him to. Alguin learned how to make our garden successful. As the years passed it grew and flourished.
The next matter was keeping out the creatures of the woods who so greatly appreciated the free meal we seemed to be providing them every summer! We tried growing cabbages, beets, onions, and carrots; and each season we’d do battle with the animals of the forest. You see, at night I could be safe from wolves and bears by simply staying in our warm cottage with the fire crackling. During the day when Alguin was with me, we could watch out for dangerous animals while we worked our land.
But Alguin wanted to prevent our garden from being devoured, too, not just me. So he planted and grew a very thick hedge around it. That kept most of them out. The hedge took over a year to develop, but by the third season it was an impenetrable wall protecting our crops. He accomplished this by mixing several different strains of vine-like bushes like juniper and boxwood. Thus it became thick and formidable over the years. Deer couldn’t get inside it after only the first couple summers, and eventually rabbits had a hard time burrowing into it because of the root system.
Alguin also made a heavy gate for us to easily get in and out. For this he used a grated screen that came off a castle window. As Alguin would often tell me, at night he could go almost anywhere in the castle and do almost anything without being seen. Therefore he brought home amazing items from there, whenever I needed them. At the mere mention of a tool or a food or a material or a resource; within a few mornings my lover would return from work with almost exactly what I had described.
After a few long afternoons of forming the window grate into a doorway, we had a way to keep the varmints out. Then he carved two wooden posts and attached the screen to them to make a gate. Let me tell you, watching him work and cut and build and construct was quite inspiring. I sure couldn’t wait to give him a bath and make love to him after we’d finish work each evening.
Within a couple of years our garden was no longer a buffet for rodents and deer; and we didn’t have to worry about wolves and bears hunting them there. No deer could get in, thus no bear could follow one in. The gate was far too sturdy. It’s lasted all these years, too, without looking like it aged a day.
Of course, if I left it open on purpose I could trap animals inside the garden quite easily, so whenever I wanted rabbits for supper and we had finished harvesting, I’d leave the gate open and let them scamper in to pick through our leavings for a free meal. Then I’d sneak over and slam the gate shut. They’d often become our dinner the next afternoon!
We didn’t stop there either. We even tried being chicken farmers. That was a little ambitious, but we got a wild hair one day and went out and built chicken coops. I had some hens and a rather hilarious rooster for a while. Alguin found the parts and materials to build the coop, and after a few visits from an enterprising fox, we figured out exactly how to secure our “working girls” for the night.
Then there was our rooster. We had to keep him safe, too. Alguin and I used to entertain ourselves watching his antics and rituals in front of the hens. Used to happen right over there as a matter of fact; over where the coops used to sit.
During the day, our hard-working rooster, who we named Gallus, would perform his cockerel “waltz”; and in the summers while I would be giving Alguin a bath out in the front of our cottage in the morning sunshine, we’d watch Gallus strut in a half circle with one wing extended downward. Alguin said this was Gallus’s way of signifying to females his dominance. But once Gallus had established himself, he rarely waltzed again. Eventually Alguin made things interesting by getting us a second cockerel. The two of them would “waltz” together, giving us loads of laughter at the sight of them.
Gallus would drop and extend both his wings and puff out his body feathers to make him seem larger. Then Gallus would charge through the hen yard like an angry bear. The mating was so violent that we’d wince sometimes. That said, it was kind of exciting as well, I must say. In the chicken world, there is precious little r
omance when it comes to mating. The male merely takes his female and mounts her as he pleases. The female must submit. She has no choice. Gallus would mount one of the hens and she’d have to bend down to bear his weight. Gallus would bite down on the feathers behind her neck, too. It was rather frightening!
In our village back home when I was a little girl, we certainly had chickens around us, but I never knew that much about them. It seems roosters don’t have penises—Alguin told me that actually! I found that out from him one day when I joked that Gallus must have been giving the hens his best lately; because the eggs had been rather plentiful as of late. Alguin only laughed. “Cock” was what we call the male chicken, yes, but, ironically, they don’t even have one! He explained to me that both male and female chickens have an exterior opening in their hindquarters. Gallus would mount the hen and tuck his tail under hers, simply passing sperm inside of her to fertilize her egg.
Our virile rooster would gladly perform this task every week for our hard-working hens, but over time when Gallus began to lose interest in fertilizing our hens regularly, that’s when Alguin got us that second cockerel. “It’s only natural,” he said, “because roosters do finally lose interest in sodding the same hen over and over again.” Sort of like some of the men I’ve known, I mused.
Alguin explained that having a second cockerel would mean competition and a potential threat to Gallus who would either try and fight the new rooster to the death, or try to intimidate him into a subordinate position. Either way, Alguin said, this would result in more eggs.
In actuality though, Gallus finally killed the new cockerel in a pitched battle that lasted all of one day, and well into the next one, until the younger rooster perished. Gallus crowed victoriously while we watched and hailed the new champion. It kind of broke my heart to see the other poor animal die, but Alguin was the good gentleman and took care of disposing of the carcass. Egg production increased several fold during that time I might add, and for a while I was almost running out of good recipes!