Parting, he caught her frighted face within,
That pale masque haunted his hilltop survey
And descent, as he wallowed in his sin.
‘Good God, mercy o’me, alack the day!
What hapless happenstance befalls my way,
Nay, t’were my blame, wherefore did I embark
To engender chaos on my soaring arc?
Gildas the great, by vicious lust undone!
An arrant wretch am I, slave to base fates.
No grimoires, but lies of a harlot spun,
This Lowenna, whose death my deed dictates,
And for my part, oblivion awaits.
Lord, I entreat thee, ope thy gracious arms,
Buttress my graces, shield me of her harms!’
By tents and fires passing by, he took note
Of Constance, forlorn, peering into flame,
‘I’m glad to see thee safe, e'en if remote.’
‘Good-den. Sleep eludes me, so here I came.’
‘Iwis, this ill-starred night I am the same.’
Ever as kin, they sang together soft,
Beneath the warmth of ember’d sparks aloft.
Her visage pristine, enshadowed by strife,
‘What darkness ails thee?’ he asked, ‘A friend.
Shouldst thou labour to rescue mortal life,
Even if that person’s soul be condemned?’
‘Aye, they chief of all, if thou canst amend
With penitence due, thy soul too is saved.’
They shared silence to brood; comfort she craved.
Heaving a black fur rug about her collar,
He retired, ‘These stars hath no love for me,
A gleaming leprosy, naught but squalor.’
A few that night gazed on the heavenly,
Cael in beast-skin, beneath the canopy,
Lowenna chained, through a cleft in the roof.
What destined affairs would the morrow sooth?
In the grove before dawn, Constance met Cael.
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‘Let’s get thee gone, lest both we be spotted.
Come, as my freckled hand, I know this trail.’
‘Lead on, elfin maid!’ they laughed and plotted,
But along the ground, boots of soldiers trotted!
‘Hie!’ they rushed apace into the bracken,
Wherein its shade, found refuge to slacken.
Hidden feart, among the fronds’ concealing.
Closer came the men in brash armour clad.
Alas, they found her there, tensely kneeling.
‘’Swounds, there be the Thane’s sister. How glad!’
‘Alone, dove? There’s good sport here to be had.
So proud these siblings, neither would raise voice.’
Cael’s form shuddered to black, without his choice.
His huge shape leapt through the air with fury,
They screamed as gurt claws ripped apart their coats
Until nothing more. He hunched over, surly
And panting in the blood torn from their throats,
Then regressed to man. As a mother dotes,
Constance held him, wiping away her tears.
‘We must leave before another appears!’
First light saw to reign over misky plains,
This gold-wreathed hour, she’d wake oft to admire,
Through wind-blown grass, led a horse by the reins.
Towards the camp, men were building a pyre,
Would they think the killings be done by her?
In this witch hunt’s frenzy, she’d be accused!
Her nature betokened guilt to minds confused.
‘O, farewell, sir. A gentle beast thou art.’
‘Goodbye, sweet lass. Thou won’t be persuaded?
Live true among our kind, and in thy heart!’
As a wistful glance to camp turned jaded,
Her veil fell and auburn curls cascaded,
Mounting the mare, she clutched around his waist,
And high unto far wild reaches they raced.