Settling Into Life

Things have settled into routine.
And for once in my life, I feel completely at ease with it.
My life.   It has been a very long time since I have felt such....peace.
Perhaps, never.

Its partly to do with Gabriella, of course.
We hardly see each other in the days it seems, but as the night brings us together again, from whatever tasks the day has set for us to do, separate and apart from one another....as we return to the nest, like wayward sparrows flitting about in the light, being drawn back to the safety of home in the dark....I come back to her. I come back....home. She is that for me now, as she was before, as she always has been, since the times our souls crossed the burning sands for one another. We stand alone and apart for but a few breaths, we fall together to rest and restore each other's strengths in the after glow of our intimacy, our joining each night, of so much more than body.

But I am feeling a rhythm in the place that we have come together to call our home, an acceptance, a rightness of step, more than I have felt in any other place since Ashford. I have a grand idea for the upcoming carneval to be held in the marketplace. The Guardians are sponsoring it, for the benefit and revitalization of the shops and businesses in the area. I shared it with Kruger, he liked the thought, and now, I am busy making the dream become reality. That occupies all my waking thoughts, and my hands and feet as well, as I work on the bare bones of the drawings, and making the inquiries for various sources of building material that will be needed. I cannot help but be excited about this, not only for the benefit of the shopkeepers in the marketplace, but for the young of this city....well....not necessarily chronologically, I should say, all those young at heart. Everyone can be involved in this! But the children especially...I cannot wait to see Zander and Zoee on the day of the big reveal....share their excitement, watch them bubble over with joy!  Soon, now, I will present my plans to Gabriella, tell her of the idea, and ask for her help. I think she will agree, I think this will appeal to the artistic nature of her, and perhaps give her a way to heal, even more, from the wounds that our lives have inflicted, one upon the other.


I am ready to get on with the business of living now.
Correction. We.
She is with me. I am no longer The One, the Apostate.
I need to find her. I need to tell her.
We have things to do!

A New Role, That of Guardian

I have joined the Guardians.
With mixed emotions, I might add.
From the day Benito Sabatier took me off the streets when I was a homeless orphan of 12 years and raised me as his own, alongside the son of his own coupling, Raul, in the deep of my heart's core I only wanted to be a good man, live an uncomplicated life, love the woman who would be my mate, raise our children and find peace among the simple people of the plains of Spain.

My life has never been like that.

Not that I have regretted what it has been like, far from it, for the accepting of responsibility and duty has taken me to lands I would never have seen, afforded me the company of people I would never have known, bestowed upon me skills and honors I would never have deserved.
It just was not what I expected.

I have had the jaunts and pleasures of youthful discovery, as Raul and I journeyed to the desert lands of the ancient east, and those cut short by his tragic and untimely death there, with me returning to his father to tell of it, and accept the sonship that fell to me, heir apparent....the Marquis of Pantera, a.k.a., the Black Panther.

I have had the priviledge of education and subsequent schooling in the art of diplomacy, serving as First Knight and Diplomatic Liason to the Duke of Bradenford himself, becoming engaged as such to the Lands of Ashford and subsequently thereby being awarded a dukedom of my own after many years of service to Her Grace, Queen Keira, as the Duke of Benvenito, the title and ruling presence now passed on my son, Benjamen.

I have had my share of sorrow in the outliving of two wives, and the children I bore with them, with the exception of Benjamen, the divorce of a third, the rejection of my biological mother who never shared the knowledge of my biological father with me, and the passing of an adopted brother and father, now, in the demise of Raul and Benito.

And my attempts to return to Spain and my underlying dream of living that simple life of a farmer and horse breeder has been interrupted once again by the responsibility and duty I felt initially to a vow of honor made to a woman who is my wife, but has become, as I have and continue to discover, so much more than a bearer of my surname, the duty there also evolving into something greater, something higher, that calls to my soul and becomes that which I must answer.

And so I find myself in a foreign land once again, on terms that are not of my choosing, but those I choose to accept, in order to remain true to the Code of the Black Knight that I pledged to so long ago, sometimes as it seems so many lifetimes ago.

Yet there is more than honor that is my promise.
Along the way my faith has been strengthened, snuffed out, supported, tested and bested, and yet.....yet....remains at the core of what I am....of who....I am...reminding me that I am called, most of all, to be One with God, that I do not and never have stood alone, and that there is one pursuit above all that is worth putting aside every dream I ever had, to lay down my life in protection of, to strive in an attempt to become and receive, it is that thing which He is....was....and always shall be.....

Love.



All things are connected
Nothing stands alone
The Twins are Two together
The Six are Three and Three
Even the One has his Faith - and one and one is two.

The Trinity is the lesson
Past -- present -- future.
Give up your all for the Rose.
Truth -- perfection -- eternity.
Its beauty is in innocence
Hence the children had to die.
The Poet of the Soul writes
No stone is left untouched
The falcon cannot hear the falconer
Until spiritus mundi awakens in us all
The link between anima to corpi
Set in the Eye of Hades.
The past begets the future and only time regrets.
Chaos the result
Until the rose blooms on the Cross.

Now the fate of The Six
Matching courage against the odds
Walk to the edge and step again
Being shown the future
Or being taught to fly.
What can we do?
What we can.
Love.
Have compassion.
Without judgement.
Resist hurt and hate.
Respond -- vibrate -- feed back -- resonate.

Conspire.
Breathe together - the Six as One.

~ Sir Antonio Sabatier ~
Member, the Guardians of Rhydin
The Duke of Benvenito, Land of Ashford (TLoA)
First Knight and Diplomatic Liason to the Duke of Bradenford, resigned (Therazul)
The Marquis of Pantera, a.k.a., The Black Panther

The One of the Six....the Apostate
_________________
There are no lies in memories, only the Truth of what was - and the foundation of what will Be.

All Or Nothing

I want it all.

Selfish bastard that I am.
Yes, bastard.
Its almost comical, she has no idea when she calls me bastard, that I am.
She has no knowledge of how that word rips into me, twists my gut within me. I am born of an act of passion, a safisfying of a carnal urge, the product of man's evil indulgence, and void of love. I am so hideous, such a blasephemy that my own mother abandoned me and could not bare to look upon my face. I carry her shame, the shame of the man I never knew as father, and the shame of that evil that cannot be controlled within us all.
I am bastard.
I speak to no one of this.
There are things you can speak to no one of, no one, save one.
God.
To Him, I do not have to speak of things buried so deep within my soul, He already knows. And forgives me for them. Incredibly.
Perhaps that is why I am down on my knees to Him tonight.

She sleeps peacefully, I write while sitting on the floor beside the bed, where I can easily and quickly take her hand, assure her of her rest, quiet her dreams at a moment's touch, if she needs.
If she needs. Thats it, isn't it?
We have a need for each other, that has grown to be evident, and culminated in the events that occurred between us tonight...and....those that did not. We live with the savage urges of the animals we are, those that rise with our passions to take us over, control our actions, erupt in our midst until that is all we know, that is what drives us, that is what gives us pleasure and soothes our body's needs.
We had that.
But there is more.

I want it all.

I know she did not understand, I read it in her eyes, she said as much, and at that moment, I began to believe perhaps she was right.
I am a crazy bastard.
I had her there within my hand.
I had her, but did I have her heart?
Just the night before, I had asked her if she loved me.
She gave me back words, a whole slew of them, layer upon layer of words, explaining, exclaiming, all the reasons, words and more words.
I only wanted one.
One of two, and she could say neither.

I want it all.

The beast within me moves, growls, threatens. The snakes move to his command, he controls their power, his goal to control everything.
He has hunted, the prey is ensnared and now he wants to finish the kill, he wants that satisfaction.
He is close, and he can win. I alone cannot hold him at bay.
We are both bastards.
But I am the greater evil.
He knows nothing, only the urges that drive him, that he must satisfy, but he neither knows nor cares why.
I know that there is more, there is higher, there is the two in one under God. To let the beast have his way without that is blasphemy.
That is why I pray.

I am nothing without my God, it is only through Him that all things are possible. I live the code of the Black Knight, to honor above all.
I have taken vows, and not only to her.
There must be a way to honor them all and I must find it.
That is what God requires.
To love and honor, until death do us part.
They both matter.
To Love with all your heart, with all your mind, with all your soul and with all your strength.
It all matters.

I control the beast, but not for long, and not by standing alone.
She pushed me to the edge and I hesitated and she did not understand.
If I lose her because of it, then the vows do not really matter.
The beast rages, licks his lips and waits.
He is here, he waits while his power grows.
He has waited for centuries to return, what is a few more days to him?

May God have mercy on my soul.
_________________
There are no lies in memories, only the Truth of what was - and the foundation of what will Be.

The Hour of the Watch

"Mercy in the dark of night,
Angels are among us.
Say your prayers and keep the faith,
For he has come to save us.
As a cold wind blows,
Nothing grows.
But his mercy flows.

Up from the ground blooms the winter rose."*

Long after the sounds of merriment in the Great Hall were put to bed, long after kit and kin retired to intimate hearths of their own, or...someone else's....I alone walked the streets of this place I now inhabit. Actually it was an improvement on my usual status, as walking.... even if going nowhere....does lend at the very least a change of scenery to the procedure, rather than pacing in a tight circle, my usual state after such an evening.

I wondered....as I wandered....does she know?
Can she not sense some inkling of why I am here, why I show up wherever she is, and make my presence known to her? Surely there are some qualms she has about me, some knock upon the level of wherever her heart is (I would not expect her head), a feeling that something, where I am concerned, where....we....are concerned, that gives her a sense of pause, even if it is only a shadow to her footsteps, an itch beneath her skin that has no visible cause, a queisiness to her stomach that tells her something be amiss, even if she decides to doggedly ignore it? I speak not of the remembrance of actual events, or of me, but that little gnawing feeling that makes the hairs on the back of one's neck stand at attention and clues in the heart that this is a way passed before, this is something to investigate.
Does she have none of that?
For, to be sure, that is how it appears.

I was quite serious when I asked her, then....did she want me to leave, truly. Yet she answered that not, at least, not directly. And I would not, but that it come as a direct order from her, as her utmost wish. If it is to be over, then it is to be over the sooner the better. Let it lie in the past. She seems to have done that fairly well, come to think of it.
It is I who has the difficulty there.
There and somewhere else.
I touched her, I whispered words to her ear, and she bled.
Why does this go on, if truly God wants me to be here, to help her, to love her again?
It happens with no one else. I know, I watched for it. So many she spoke to, so many she touched in passing, and they in turn, her. In passing, in dancing, in standing close by, there were many, both male and female, and of none of them did she have such a harsh reaction. Even as close and prolonged as she stayed in the company of the one called Kalamere, she suffered no ill effects.
Yet I have merely to utter a word, breathe a breath, and she is hurt.
To say I do not understand is simple enough.
To say I will not tolerate it much longer, a hurt of her, even if it means my departure from these lands, never to see my precious Zoee and Zander again, is a conclusion I am fast reaching.
This cannot be for her own good.
And I will not let it continue much longer.

I should not have come.
Correction. I should not have stayed.

It is 3 a.m.
The hour that has meaning all its own.
Some say, the witching hour, others report it as the Hour of the Watch. Whatever anyone's faith calls it, there is but one thing left to do. If, after that, there is no change, then I will know. God will have given me His sign and I will take it as such.

Soon, I will know.
Correction. We all will know.

-------------------------------------------------- -----------------

*(from the song, "Winter Rose", music and lyrics by Bill Leslie)

And A Little Child Will Lead Them

Psalms 14, a psalm of David...the Folly and Wickedness of Men


The fool hath said in his heart,
There is no God.

They are corrupt,
they have done abominable works,
there is none that doeth good.

The LORD looked down from heaven upon the children of men,
to see if there were any that did understand, and seek God.

They are all gone aside,
they are all together become filthy:
there is none that doeth good, no, not one.

Have all the workers of iniquity no knowledge?
who eat up my people as they eat bread,
and call not upon the LORD.

There were they in great fear:
for God is in the generation of the righteous.

Ye have shamed the counsel of the poor,
because the LORD is his refuge.

Oh that the salvation of Israel were come out of Zion!

When the LORD bringeth back the captivity of his people,
Jacob shall rejoice, and Israel shall be glad.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"She didn't run from you, she was taken. She was too happy, Fate recycled her. Stole her mind.. wiped it all away. Everything. She didn't even know....she was pregnant."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Backed into the darkened corner,
forced to sift through the ashes once again.
He'd been there before.
Another life, another wife, a fire caused by a jealous fate that detroyed happiness.
Sent him into the bottomless pit.
Forsaken by God, forsaken by love, forsaken by a Savior.

Until he walked into her art studio.
She thumbed her nose at Fate and saved him.
And God smiled.

Oh ye man of wicked foolishness.
There is a God, a fitting opponant for Fate.
And all you have to do is believe.
Believe and never let go of hope.
Never let go of....her.

The panther stopped its pacing.
He lay down with the lamb, refusing to fight any longer.
Gave God thanks for the voices of his children,
And slept at last.

"He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes,
or decide by what he hears with his ears;
but with righteousness he will judge the needy,
with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth.
He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth;
with the breath of his lips he will slay the wicked.
Righteousness will be his belt
and faithfulness the sash around his waist.
The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearling together;
and a little child will lead them."

Isaiah 11:3-6

There Is No Moon

There is no moon here this night.
It matters not.
I cannot be still.
I pace in circles around the tree which I have claimed as my place of rest in these lands. Correction, God-forsaken lands.
For yet have I to see any resemblence of the Almighty, any reference to a sovereign deity by the....creatures....that I co-habitate with here....wherever here is. Vanessa might at least have told me the ways of things here, rather than just shove me toward that strange, vibrating ring of stones, finger pointing, with a haughty..."That way, lover"....before she vanished in a puff of smoke.
And I thought she liked me.

Could have been worse, I could be stranded alone and on foot, but as fate would have it, smiling on me for once, I was mounted on Duff, although he is not battlewise or as yet trained by my ways, like his sire. Ciardha, ah, but there is a true warhorse! Still, Duff is possessing of a raw and rare fire and strength, a mighty streak of potential to be seen in him, and what have I here, but time on my hands for the instruction he will require of me?
I digress.

Devil's trampling grounds, thats what I am making.
A mess of these bushes, a mess of her life. Nae, she already accomplished that.
She told me once twas not of her doing, mostly.
Fate held her in His mightly clutches, ripping at her heart, gashing at her flesh, churning in her head nightmares instead of allowing her sleep.
How she could only find rest in God's own joined Oneness, head upon my chest, my dreams hers, my breath hers, my peace....hers.
I believed her. Once.

Tonight again I hear likewise, from those gathered around who seem loyal to her, distressed to find her blood where she herself should have been, but no other remnant of her.
Was it her blood, in all truth?
Or merely her craft making them draw conclusions that were not honest?
She is a witch.
Do they not know what that means?
Or has she bewitched even their very sensibilities so they cannot see, hear, taste, feel, understand.....Gabriella.....

There is no god here to curse at, spit at, lay prostrate before in prayer, shaking with the thought of an answer.
I prayed for her. Once.
I cannot be still.
There is no moon here this night.
It matters not.

Ashes Are Burning

I remember the night we stood together in the fire....

No. I will not.

I remember...it is part of who I am and has been, since that night...
It is written that fire clenseth the soul, purifying, making over again, making a new creation.
I swear as I stood with her that night, it was so.
I looked into her eyes, held onto her, body and spirit, with all that I had, and I believed that she did the same for me, that she my savior and I hers did become.
I believed that all else fell away, save the sharing of our souls in sacred pledge and vow.

She made that into a lie.

She used to touch me....touch...my heart.
I thought it was a healing she was performing.
It was a robbery.
All this time, I have not thought about......what used to be.
I could not.
But I can see it now for what it was.
She gave me nothing.
She took.
She stole.
And she thought to get away with it.
To get away with all of it.

But I know.
I know of what she did that day.

"It was the day the world went wrong
I screamed til my voice was gone
And watched throught the tears as everything came crashing down.
Slowly panic turns to pain
As I awoke to what remained
To sift through the ashes that are left behind...."

Redemption is what I want.
I want what is mine. That will be redemption.
The two for her one.
I will take them far away, to the ends of the earth, where we shall never again be disturbed.
Never discovered.
I will save them from the horror of her fire, the pain of her lies.

I will do what needs to be done.

For them.
For the lives that stir yet in the ashes that are burning.
For when all else falls away......
....in their innocence
....they are the only hope left to rise.




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rJynET3b3PM

The Domino Effect

So. She has been found. And more than....she. One of my men has brought to me a letter. It is her handwriting, there can be no mistake in that, even as weather-worn and faded as it is. And the secrets it reveals to me..... There is a depth of will I did not think I still possessed. But my mind is clear again. I have set a plan in motion, and like a domino effect, one part hinges upon the next. When the first one falls, and I do not say if....when that happens, then it cannot be stopped....until I have again what is mine. She? Oh no. I care not for the cunning conniving of a she-bitch. She played me false, after all. But her whelps....are mine as well. They are more mine, they will be more mine, than they have ever been hers. For them, I have made this plan, I have come back to life, I have purpose. It is started. It will be finished. So help me God.

The Year In Hell

I have spent the last year of my life in hell.
I have traversed the globe, not once, but thrice, in search of that which was mine.
I have occasionally returned to Spain, for the rest and strength that it provides, so that I can continue in my search.
Early reports were that Brazil held the answer, and I have spent much time there, looking under every rock, and in every corner, for that which has alluded me. Indeed, I have spent so much time there that I have purchased land there, a small ranch, austere but comfortable in its furnishings. It is a working sheep ranch, under my ownership, yet I employ men to oversee the business, allowing me to pursue....other ventures.
Such as the venture of finding my wife.
She is the reason that I have spent this last year in hell....she once my salvation, now my condemnation.
It matters not what I do in the remnants of this life, therefore, for I have no fear of death. Most men fear death because they fear hell. I hold no such fear for I have been there, lived there, for longer now than a year.
Commit murder and wind up in hell eternally?
Oh, to be sure, it phases me not in the least.
I dream of it, in fact.
I dream of my hand closing around the length of her pretty neck, my eyes trained upon her face, as I squeeze and watch her life, finally and totally in my hand, in my control, where at last she will know her place, as my wife and I her lord and master. I grin at her, sneering as I complete the deed....or grant her mercy.
It is the only thing I have left to smile about, so beware.
If you chance to meet me in the street, and I am smiling, you will know.
There is murder in my dream, in my eye.
Look closely, little one. Recognize what you have done to this man.
This bastard of a Spaniard.
Now....this murdering bastard of a Spaniard.

I am coming....for you, Gabriella.

Driven

So....she has run from me.

At first, when I turned around to find her gone, I thought she merely stood aside to let me worship at the altar of my god in my own way.
She was nowhere to be found, but still...I was unconcerned....until I returned to the hacienda, until I had the men conduct a search of the island.
Then I feared the worst, thinking someone had taken her to do her harm, or to get at me through her. Incredibly, my fears turned even darker, that she had fled from me....ME!!...and staged her own taking.

I put aside all thoughts of why, concentrating only on the where was she now. I hired a hundred men to span the globe, even as I did myself, to find any trace of her. The search seemed futile, until now.

A convent....she's taken refuge in a g** d**ned convent, of all things. A woman of her description has been found by one of my men and even now, I am on a ship, bound for the island off Brazil's eastern coast where she is reported to be.

And when I find her.....when...I...find...her....
There is no reason in the world she can give to me for this.
She is my wife.
And soon she shall learn what that means....to be the wife of El Sabatier.
She thinks she has seen me angry.
She has seen only a glimpse of what I can be.

I am a driven man, and anger is a very powerful propellant.

The Gifts of Being Home

We are home.  Espania.  Spain.

How perfect that the winds, the gods, the spirits have brought us to this place, and I feel it as I never have before.  Home.  With my wife, with Gabriella.  I am completely hers.  There is not one inch of me that she has not touched, held, healed, and I am content. 

I am content to be hers and have her hold my everything.  I trust her as I have never trusted anyone before and it is such a thing of freedom, such a lifting of heaviness from my soul.  It sounds trite but it is the only way I can put it.

I love her completely.

Tomorrow I will show her the island and with it my sanctuary.  I have never shown another living soul that.  I suppose I have never allowed anyone this close, trusted anyone so totally, as I do Gabriella.  If she has played me false, if this is all some trick of her magic, then I am doomed.  But I think at this moment I do not care, for I do not care to live the life I would have without her.

I gave her a small token of my feelings tonight, very small.  I was almost embarrassed at the trivial ruby stone set within the silver, at the smallness of its size.  I did not tell her of the ring's history.  I do not know exactly why, I tell her everything, and she has given me no reason to hold anything away from her.  Perhaps when I take her to my sanctuary tomorrow I will tell her of it.  It is the Sacred Lotus ring, handed down to me through my mother, the only thing I have of her, but that is not the most important thing about it.  It was my father's.  My real father's.  A man I never knew, never was told anything of, and until the day before my mother's abandonment of me, I never heard or saw anything about him from her.  That night, though, at the supper table, she pulled out the worn velvet pouch and put it on my plate, before we ate, saying only...."This was your father's.  It is now yours.  Open it later, we eat now."  And that was that.  The next day she left me and we never spoke of it again.       I never saw her again. 

I think I have dreamed of him, my real father.  I think perhaps some of the things I have written in my journal, those things way in the back that do not seem to connect with this time and space, are possibly of him.  But I have no clue, really.  I have no name, no nationality, no face....and no memories.         My father was Benito Santana, in all the ways that matter, save one.                   I was not of his loins. 

That has never been a concern to me, until now.  I did not think of it before I gifted the ring to my wife, but what if it has some evilness to it?  What if he was evil himself?  What if that was the reason my own mother never spoke of him to me? Or perhaps he was the opposite, a great man, greater than my mother could withstand.  I know what she was.  She was not.....great.   She was a whore.  A different man every night in her bed, in our home.  Still, she was the only parent I had, the only mother.  Until the day I did not have even her any more.

Well, what is done is done.  I felt it right to gift the ring to Gabriella...and only now, only she....none of my other wives have ever worn it, have not even known of its existence.

Only Gabriella.

She gave me a ring in return.  I am not sure how she did it, but she seemed to fashion it from the necklace she wears, one of sapphires, that she said her father told her was her stone.  A stone of destiny, that is what a sapphire is.  She placed on my finger a ring of one large sapphire stone, made from her own stones, and then kissed it.  I was quite at a loss without words, for once in my life.  Never has any woman in my life given me a ring, much less such a ring as this, made from their own stone.  I have given rings to all those who had mattered to me, but not once has anyone given me one in return.  Not even a wedding band.  Gabriella now has given me two.

I am a very fortunate man indeed.

 

 

Surviving The Hurricane

SHIP'S LOG
The schooner Anna-Maria, Port o' call - London
Somewhere upon the Atlantic Ocean

Honeymoon Trip, Day Six
September 1, 1888
Morning


I have heard it said that what does not kill us serves to make us stronger. I have learned through experience now that that is so.

I must shoulder much of the responsibility. I make no excuses but only write of the truth, the way it has been for me for so long now. I have been alone, since my last wife died, and at first was prostrate with my grief. I learned to survive but did so by taking the bricks of that grief and constructing a wall around myself, so that I blocked all interaction with others. I relished my solitude, believing it was the only way I could survive, the only thing I deserved, and to some degree I became protective of that solitude, holding it up in front of me like a shield. I let no one through. I thought that was the only way I could live. I did not realize that in reality it was actually killing me, bit by chipped away bit.

That is, until Gabriella chose to come to me, to enter my dreams and my solitude, relentless in her pursuit of me, and she would not take no for an answer. She brought me back to the living, to life, with her love. She did so unselfishly, without regard to what it might cost her, only thinking of how she could help me, how she could heal me. She perservered until I turned to look at her and began to allow her to unbuild the wall, brick by brick. Yet even so, realizing what she had done for me, what she meant to me, I was on a collision course, at odds with what she needed from me in return, not able to see that I was shutting her out and attempting to deal with things as I had been used to dealing with them....in solitude. I moved away from her, when what she needed, was ultimately what I needed, but could not see.

It required the intervention of a far wiser man than I to bring me to my senses, away from the irrational madness of solitude, and back to the gift that my wife truly is. I wish I could have known Joram Dufaigh in this lifetime. Gabriella's father is truly a remarkable man, a man I would love to learn from, and I will wear his ring with awed honor. It was, in fact, because of our rings.....mine formerly Joram's, Ella's formerly her mother's....that we were able to find ourselves in a better place.
Quite literally. But I digress there.

The point being, I have begun to share with my wife....in all things. Joram said that together we shall have a life of untold happiness, but apart we would not survive. I think I had known that intuitively, but it took him to put words to the feelings for us. I am trying now, very hard, to hold nothing back from Gabriella. I am allowing her to breach my wall and see me for who I am. I will need her understanding, and her patience, but....truly....I am trying, just as I know, she is. I have told her...."mi aliento es suyo, mi cuerpo es suyo, mi corazon es suyo". I do not know how else to say it, except to perhaps add that.....I am committed to her....siempre.


Gabriella and I have weathered the hurricane that threatened to break us apart forever. The vows we made to each other as husband and wife have bolstered our love and we will survive, even become stronger in our love for one another.

Dawn breaks now, upon a new day, upon a new morning, and we are walking out into the sunshine together.

There used to be a greying tower alone on the sea.
You became the light on the dark side of me.
Love remained a drug that's the high and not the pill.

But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and,
The light that you shine can be seen.

Baby,
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.
Ooh, the more I get of you,
The stranger it feels, yeah.
And now that your rose is is in bloom.
A light hits the gloom on the grey.

There is so much a man can tell you,
So much he can say.
You remain,
My power, my pleasure, my pain...baby...
To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny.
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby?

But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen.

Baby,
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.
Ooh, the more I get of you
The stranger it feels, ...yeah.
Now that your rose is in bloom.
A light hits the gloom on the grey,

I've been kissed by a rose on the grey,
I've been kissed by a rose on the grey.

There is so much a man can tell you,
So much he can say.
(there's so much inside)
You remain
My power, my pleasure, my pain.
To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny, yeah
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby?

But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and
the light that you shine can be seen.

Baby,
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.
Ooh, the more I get of you
The stranger it feels, yeah
Now that your rose is in bloom,
A light hits the gloom on the grey.

Yes I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey
Ooh, the more I get of you the stranger it feels, yeah....

Now that your rose is in bloom,
A light hits the gloom on the grey.

We're Leaving Here Tonight

SHIP'S LOG
The schooner Anna-Maria, Port o' call - London
Somewhere upon the Atlantic Ocean

Honeymoon Trip, Day Five
August, 1888
After midnight

We are leaving.  Here.  Tonight.

Things between Gabriella and I have deteriorated since early this morning, in fact since we entered the fog and found ourselves on a forced sail to Carthia.  Carthia, despite being her home land, once cherished by my wife, holds nothing for her now but painful memories, and it is those memories that pull at her, claw at her and threaten the very bond I have with her.  I am sure that it is all Carthia.  We have never been so at odds, we have never been so accusitory and hurtful toward one another, and it all started, to my way of thinking, when we felt the pull of Carthia.

I am taking her away, now, tonight.  We are going anywhere, somewhere, just away from here.  I will not stand for anything to tear us apart from one another like this is doing.  I will take her back to the last point in our journey where we were happy with each other, connected, as she likes to put it.  She will have to give me some strong conviction as to why we should not go, and even then, staying will be at the risk of us.  

For my vote, I will not take the chance.  I will protect now what I have found with Gabriella and if that means forcefully dragging her away from Carthia, then that is my course of action.  And if she chooses otherwise, then I suppose I know the true meaning of that.  My plan is not to allow her a choice, but with Gabriella, I have learned, things do not always go as planned.

 

Dear my love, haven't you wanted to be with me
And dear my love, haven't you longed to be free
I can't keep pretending that I don't even know you
And at sweet night, you are my own
Take my hand

We're leaving here tonight
There's no need to tell anyone
They'd only hold us down
So by the morning light
We'll be halfway to anywhere
Where love is more than just your name

I have dreamt of a place for you and I
No one know who we are there
All I want is to give my life only to you
I've dreamt so long I cannot dream anymore
Let's run away, I'll take you there

Forget this life
Come with me
Don't look back you're safe now
Unlock your heart
Drop your guard
No one's left to stop you

Forget this life
Come with me
Don't look back you're safe now
Unlock your heart
Drop your guard
No one's left to stop you now

Scrawled across one entire page, in a sketchy shaking hand, the point of the pen pressed so hard that the paper has torn at the end of the last letter......

Damnit   woman

Fate Smiled at Destiny

SHIP'S LOG
The schooner Anna-Maria, Port o' call - London
Somewhere upon the Atlantic Ocean

Honeymoon Trip, Day Four
August, 1888
Late afternoon, near sunset


Gabriella and I are back on board the Anna-Maria for the moment, after having been forced from her a few hours ago.  We are not permitted to leave yet, but I think we both needed some time to ourselves to process what has happened.  I have so many questions, but Gabriella just looked exhausted, and so I can delay my interrogations, for her sake.  She is resting below in our stateroom and most likely as confused and as astounded as I find myself to be. Saying that it was an interesting occurance is the least I can say about it, but I am still not sure what it all means, so I shall not recount its telling here, except to say that I am still reeling from the possibilities of all that I have learned.

There are things that I have felt, things that I have written, that I have hidden, from others, even from myself. In the very back pages of my journal is a section of different scribblings, with no organization to them, just pages with dates at the top, where I have jotted down my secret feelings of that day. They made no sense to me, yet I wrote them, being awake and fully cognizant, not in some dream or sleep state, and not as Gavin, or anyone else in the present.

I wrote them as I am, they came from the mind of Antonio Sabatier.

They did not scare me, exactly, but often I would look at what I had written on the page afterwards and wonder where I had gotten the words, and the ideas, that had formed there. I was more curious, than anything. I suppose that is one reason I have often sought to collect so many volumes for my libraries, on various and sundry topics, where often when I had spare moments, I would just browse and read the odds and ends of literature, both fiction and non. I am not sure I was searching, at least not consciously, but perhaps I was. I presumed I was just thirsty for knowledge.

I even recall one of the first things I thought of doing when I knew I was moving to London was to ask Robert to have some books procured from local sources, about the land, the customs, the people, the history, even about the city of London itself. I suppose they wait for me now, in some place in the townhouse, but I have been too busy to find them and peruse their contents. I could not have imagined, at the time I asked that they be purchased, that I would be married and away on my honeymoon, almost immediately after settling into the townhouse on Park Lane.

Destiny does have a way of holding its own surprises in this lifetime....or any lifetime, I suppose I must now hasten to add.
Her fate has smiled upon my destiny.
And, together now, we will make our way.

      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *       *

Doctors have come from distant cities just to see me;
Stand over my bed, disbelieving what they're seeing.
They say I must be one of the wonders of God's own creation,
And as far as you see you can offer no explanation.

Newspapers ask intimate questions, want confessions;
They reach into my head to steal the glory of my story.
They say I must be one of the wonders of God's own creation,
And as far as they see they can offer no explanation.

Ooo, I believe: Fate smiled at Destiny,
Laughed as she came to my cradle:
"Know this child will be able,"
Laughed as my body she lifted,
"Know this child will be gifted
With love, with patience, and with faith.
She'll make her way; she’ll make her way."

People see me; I'm a challenge to your balance;
I'm over your heads; how I confound you and astound you to know
I must be one of the wonders of God's own creation;
And as far as you see you can offer me no explanation.

Ooo, I believe: Fate smiled at Destiny,
Laughed as she came to my cradle:
"Know this child will be able,"
Laughed as she came to my mother,
“Know this child will not suffer,”
Laughed as my body she lifted,
"Know this child will be gifted
With love, with patience, and with faith.
She'll make her way; she’ll make her way."

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *

SHIP'S LOG
Addendum

After the last entry into my journal, I looked in on Gabriella.  I  stood at the door of our stateroom and watched her sleep for long moments, pondering many things....but most of all,  pondering the wonder of the creature that she is....and how blessed I am to be loved by her.  She could not know, she could never know, that the depth and breadth of that love she gives to me is reciprocated a hundredfold.  Even more than that.

She is so many things to me, all of which I did not realize I craved to be present in my life, until she came and brought them.  I am as dependent upon her for my life as if I was addicted to her and she some newfound opiate.  I want to touch her constantly, if only in reassurance to myself that she is real, that she is there.  Near her is not sufficient, I want to be with her, I want to hold her, feel her breathe.  Inside her skin with her is not too close. 

I would have gone over to her and taken her, take from her the love she exudes.  But my hand was stayed by the way she looked, too much like a little girl that I should be protective of,  as she played with the sleep angels behind those closed eyes,  too peaceful to disturb.  I could only stand and watch her in her slumber, and long for what she has brought to me to return, when she comes back from her dreams.  I worry for her, when those dreams are too hard for her, but it seemed not to be so at that moment.  She was quiet and content and I must allow her to be so.

I went back to the deck to savor a glass of Scotch, the first I think I had poured since that fateful night of our marriage, and watch the sunset.  A few weeks ago, that would have been a most acceptable ending to the day, being alone with my Scotch and watching the sunset.  Tonight, however....I am lonely, achingly so, a tangible sadness that I can feel, for the presence of the woman who slumbers below.  I am empty without her to fill that part of me that she has awakened, that part of me I never knew was lacking, until I knew of her.  I want to touch her, kiss her, so hard to take away her breath, her awareness, her soul, as I possess her.  I want to lose myself within her.

I want her. 

 

She Sang To Me

SHIP'S LOG
The schooner Anna-Maria, Port o' call - London
Somewhere upon the Atlantic Ocean

Honeymoon Trip, Day Four
August, 1888
Daybreak


Morning has broken, clear and pristine.
The sea is calm, the air is refreshing....rarely have I seen such a beautiful morning. Looking at this day from the way it is beginning, it promises to be a good day for sailing, and a good day for beginning the rest of my life.
Our lives.
For well have we weathered the storm of the night, Gabriella and I. She will not run from me, she will not leave. She has said as much and I believe her....for she sang to me.
Last night she sang to me.
I am filled with wonder at the depth of her love for me. More than that, I am humbled by her love. I cannot wait to begin this day because she will be in it with me.
I never thought to feel this way again.
I never thought I deserved it.
Gabriella has made me believe.
She has made me believe in love again, in the joy of the moment. She has made me believe in myself again, and that there is a future filled with possibilities.
Our future.

Torn

SHIP'S LOG
The schooner Anna-Maria, Port o' call - London
Somewhere upon the Atlantic Ocean

Honeymoon Trip, Day Three, 0300 hour
August, 1888 

I told her.

I was afraid she was withdrawing from me, that she was leaving me.

Ironic, isn't it?  It is the very thing she tells me she is so afraid of, that I will leave her.

I am not even man enough to tell her it is the same thing that I feel.

But I told her last night.  Blurted it out because she was leaving anyway.  I could feel it from her.  She kept saying she needed to be alone.  I was afraid she meant it.   It was not the right time, it was not the right place,  but I had no choice.

And now she knows.

I am not the man she believed me to be.

She will put it all together eventually.

She will soon understand that the marks on my back, the ones I cannot talk about, are from that time.

She will soon understand that the dream that haunts me is the one I lived, the one I cannot talk about, the one I think about all the time.

She will soon understand the closeness it keeps, lurking beneath the surface of my every waking moment, ready to pounce and steal my sanity permanently.

She will soon understand that it was not only my grief for Pene's loss that drove me to the brink of my sanity and beyond.  It was the loss of the one person that I shared it all with, the loss of one other soul in the world who knew and had given me absolution, who refused to stop loving me even when I could no longer love myself.

Even the children do not know all of it.  They do not know the choices I made.  They see me as some great hero, as the man who saved them, but they do not know it all.  I think sometimes Benjamen suspects there is something else to it all, but he does not ask.  We do not speak of it. 

He had to deal with it that way and I understand that.

I cannot burden him with it.  He has his own ghosts to live with.

Pene was the only other one who knew the whole of it but I waited too late to share it with her.  I waited until my distance, and my silence, had already become a wedge between us.  She left me a long time before she left me.  It was not her fault. 

That will not happen with Gabriella, for I have told her.  Too soon, I think, but she knows now, for better or worse.  But I will not let it bind her to me.  I will not let it destroy her.  I love her that much.  I know what I have to do.

 I shall give her the option, as I did not give it to Pene.  I  shall look at the charts in the morning, determine where we are, and sail the Anna-Maria to the nearest port of civilization.  There Gabriella can make her way back to Jon and Maddy, they will take care of her. 

I will not ask her to stay with me, now that she knows. 

How could she?

How could anyone?

I think when she goes, I will go, too.  I will not fight it any longer. 

The Claiming

Listen as the wind blows....from across the great divide....

Voices trapped in yearning....memories trapped in time....

On the sea she rises...... the moon is in her eyes....

She belongs to me as no other.....I've claimed her for all time.

 

 

Raven hair and ruby lips
Sparks fly from her finger tips
Echoed voices in the night
Shes a restless spirit on an endless flight
Wooo hooo witchy woman, see how
High she flies
Woo hoo witchy woman she got
The moon in her eye
She held me spellbound in the night
Dancing shadows and firelight
Crazy laughter in another
Room and she drove herself to madness
With a silver spoon
Woo hoo witchy woman see how high she flies
Woo hoo witchy woman she got the moon in her eye
Well I know you want a lover,
Let me tell your brother, shes been sleeping
In the devils bed.
And theres some rumors going round
Someones underground
She can rock you in the nighttime
til your skin turns red
Woo hoo witchy woman
See how high she flies
Woo hoo witchy woman
She got the moon in her eyes.

What does SHE want?

SHIP'S LOG
The schooner Anna-Maria, Port o' call - London
Somewhere upon the Atlantic Ocean

Honeymoon Trip, Day Two
August, 1888

 

I just don’t know what she wants.

 

It seems to change as often as the direction of the sea’s breeze.

 

I thought…. so much of our love had been shared with me acting like some sort of savage beast, blindly groping at her, wild to feel her, taste her, smother her with my desires and needs.

I thought...for once I would go slow, pay particular attention to what she needed, explore every nook and cranny of her body while listening to the sound of how she was breathing, so I would know what she liked.  You do not always have to say those things aloud, in fact it can be more exciting to discover them quite without the benefit of words altogether.

I thought….I would show her how much I loved her by taking the time to be deliberate, unhurried, to worship her body with my hands and. . . other things . . . to show her my love.

I thought I might please her, for once, and give her the ultimate gift.

 

She would have none of it. 

 

I have never bedded a woman like her, never been in love with such a creature.

I am so…….I do not even know what I am. 

I know that I cannot be angry at her, I threw away my anger, and now it sits at the bottom of the sea, unreachable.  I am not sorry for that, I would not be angry with her anyway.  I do not know what to be, I would be what she wants me to be, if only I knew what that was. 

 

I am….frustrated, of a certainly.  Confused, most definitely. 

And more in love with her than I have ever been with any woman in my life.

I wanted this to be such a time of sharing, of open communication for us, just she and I, with no one else.

I thought…..all my life I have thought….that love was enough and that everything else could be amended and rectified if only there was love.

There is love between us, of that there is no doubt. 

It grows with each day that I spend with her.  For me, it does.

I want to please her, I want to lay the world at her feet, I want to adore her.

I want to be her anchor every night, I want her to need me, I want to be there for her.

I know what I want.

And I know what I won’t.  I won’t give up.  I won’t give in.

I will try harder.  I will hold on as long as I have to, but I pray I find the answer soon, because this way….this is no way.

I know that I want her.

 

I just don’t know what she wants.

 

 

 

The Raven Returns

SHIP'S LOG
The schooner Anna-Maria, Port o' call - London
Somewhere upon the Atlantic Ocean
August, 1888


THE RAVEN RETURNS

I find myself on the Anna-Maria in the midst of our honemoon, imagine that!! It has already been an ordeal, this marriage, and so short a time we have had with it. Some things have been marvelous, some things unsettling, but always it has been eventful. Gabriella, alone, brings such a zest for life to me that each day the dregs of the way I was recede more and more. I will not say she alone has been my salvation, because for that to occur one must be open and receptive to it, so that the reason lies quite likely with both of us, but I am glad to be alive, more glad than I can remember ever having been, and I look forward to the days, now that Gabriella is in them with me.

With Gabriella resting below deck this afternoon, I was alone in the pilothouse of the Anna-Maria keeping watch over her direction when I chanced to sight a bird above in the cloudless blue sky. Not unusual in and of itself, but we are at the moment far from shore, with nothing upon the horizon but sea in all directions, and without some nearby spot of land, why would a bird venture out this far? I was curious and took out the spyglass for a closer look. It was a raven, huge and glossy-feathered, a black speck of darkness in the otherwise perfect heavens, and I shuddered with the sight of it. I do not know why, exactly, it was an involuntary reaction on my part, and I have no basis of fact for my negative reaction to seeing it....merely a feeling. Sometimes I dismiss such feelings as having no validity, but as of late, and especially since being with Gabriella, I am thinking these are signs of some unknown important to which I ought pay some attention. Fate? A few weeks ago I would have said no, under no circumstance, but now, I am not as sure. Gabriella thinks we may have been destined from a long time ago, even from a previous life, to be together, or so she said. I will not go that far, but I must admit, I am appreciating more and more her insistence that things, at least some things, seem meant to be.

I had my journal open, ready to pen my impressions of the days thus far of our honeymoon, having been too otherwise engaged to do so before, and I thumbed through the entries to see if there had been any past encounter with a raven of which I had written. There was nothing about a bird, but there was indeed an entry about a raven. It was one of the early entries, from several years ago; I had not browsed through that part of my journal since I had written it, I suppose. As I read the words I had written there so long ago, I well remember the time that sparked it, a time of unknown personal disquiet for me, a time when I would hear in my dreams the voice of a woman, yet never know more about her, or know what she said or even know what my dreams would mean. So vibrant and vivid did the dreams become, and the feeling that I should know more, but not having any knowledge of even what to search for, I feared I would disturb my household and took to riding in the dense forest during the nights. I thought I might be going mad, my earliest thoughts of such, when I could find no respite from the voice.

Raven in ancient lore is always a messenger, a creature that brings a warning to be heeded. I do not know why I should have any warning right now, but I cannot help but think I should pay attention to it, and to the words that the Raven of my past left with me, as recorded in my journal from years ago:


I have taken to riding when the such thoughts threaten my sanity - hard and fast through the woods in the deep of night - and I am sure that my stallion will be relieved once these irregular outings cease - or at least he will be more rested, not having his sleep interrupted in the middle of the night. Trouble is....I know not when that may be....or how to bring it about. And so, for now....I ride, late into the night, to chase the thoughts of her from my mind.

Which is how I came to meet the Seer, a woman named Raven, quite a beauty and aptly named, for her hair does shine like a raven's wing. It was but a few nights ago on one of my restless journeys to nowhere that I happened upon her....and the words she had for me have haunted me ever since.

"Pride will be your downfall if these words you do not heed. The forest is deep and the path is long, but narrow. Stray but a step, and you will find that the forest is not only deep, but wide. Many who go there find the adventures they seek, but for those who do not take heed of the warning, the forest becomes a tomb."

How she knew of my almost nightly travels into the woods, I do not know, but truly she has the Gift. Her words of the present were unnerving, but not nearly so asher words of what might be:

"The path you must take will not be straight, nor will it be easy. Choose you the wrong direction and your travels will end in disaster. A great loss, you must be prepared to accept. Do not attempt to prevent the loss, or your life will be forfeit."

And that I could not share with Pene, for it would bring ill will to this trip of hers we now find ourselves in the midst of - it is bad luck to begin such a journey with the ominous words of a Seer, as it is. Quite clearly I recall my reply to Raven then and what she said to me afterwards:

"My life means nothing if I cannot give it for those I love. It matters not, then.....that I forfeit it....if my actions save one I love. That....I would gladly do....again and again."

"Forfeit your life if you must, but know this ... by doing so, you also forfeit the life of the One who can save them all. That One is yet to come. Forfeit your life, and you also forfeit Hers."

What else she said to me, this woman with the Gift, or the Curse, of Second Sight, I shall keep private, even from these pages. What she said of me alone, well...time only can be the Truthmaker there. But if her words do foreshadow future actions on my part....I can only pray to Gwyn Ap Nuad that I choose wisely indeed...guided by His Hand.

So mote it be, if it be Thy will, Gwyn Ap Nuad. I pray for your strength and guidance at first light. And if it be your time to come for me, come swiftly, and let me bring honor to you with my death. In the name of the warriors who have gone before me, and whom one day I will join in the afterlife. Hear my words and grant the wishes of my heart.

I wonder now again, as I wondered then, what the message of Raven was. It is disquieting, but no known, absolute answers lie within my grasp, even now the same as then. But I do have for comfort the words of the wise woman that I am now married to, so I will put my trust in our bond and in the words she has said to me....that all things happen for reasons.