So Long Apart

"Have you gone to sleep?"

"What?" Jane was startled out of her reverie. She looked at her companion. "I'm sorry, Michael. What did you say?"

"I asked if you'd gone to sleep."

"No....no, I don't think so. It's warm and stuffy in the car, though. I'm feeling a bit dozy. I'm sorry, Michael. I'm not being very good company."

"It's all right, love." He squeezed her hand. "Just being with you is enough."

"You're sweet." Jane made an attempt at a smile.

Sweet. Yes, Michael was certainly that, but there was something sickly about his attentiveness. Whenever he was near her, Jane became overwhelmed and suffocated. She couldn't understand her attitude towards him and even felt a little guilty at her reaction. He was always so kind and thoughtful, and yet......

"Nearly there. Look, you can catch glimpses of the castle through the trees. See it?"

"Oh – yes. Yes, I see it."

Jane did her best to sound enthusiastic, but it was difficult. Michael had a passion for old buildings and for the past six months he had taken Jane to all the national monuments within a hundred mile radius of her home. She was tired of seeing relics of bygone ages; houses, towers, castles, furniture, paintings, clothes, pots and pans – bric-a-brac of all kinds. It was interesting for a while, but now she found it boring.

"It's a really beautiful castle," Michael enthused. "I've been before – well worth a second visit. In perfect condition."

"Good." Jane stifled a sigh.

She could see the castle clearly now; it looked like every other castle they had visited. The walls were made of large, rough stones that had survived the sands of time surprisingly well. On one side was a moat, though the water had long since drained away. Now there was nothing left but a dry ditch. On the other side was the sea.

Five minutes later, the car was parked and Michael bought a guide-book for each of them. They wandered through the gate and into a large courtyard.

"Look at it," exclaimed Michael, sweeping his arm round in a grand gesture. "Magnificent."

"It's just like all the others," murmured Jane. "I'd swear I've been here before."

"Oh, no!" Michael was shocked. "They're not all the same, by any means. All these old castles have their own individuality – just like people. The style might be the same, but not the atmosphere. That's totally different."

He wandered away to examine a well in the middle of the courtyard. Jane sat on a wooden seat and opened the guide-book. It proved to be less than interesting. A long and boring description of the castle was followed by some brief historical notes.

"Come on, Jane, let's go in."

Michael took her hand, pulled her off the seat and half dragged her through a doorway into the castle itself. They wandered around for an hour, climbing up narrow, winding stairs onto the parapet; peering into strange, dimly-lit rooms with large, open fire-places; walking along stone corridors with a musty smell.

"Built by Edward the First in 1263," Michael informed her. "Look at those slits....just big enough for the longbow. Must have been easy to defend."

"Um...yes." Jane shivered slightly.

Often, when she wandered around old houses and castles she could evoke the atmosphere of the place; she could almost see vague, phantom visions of the previous owners. But this castle was cold and empty. She could feel no response to its narrow, dark corridors and it's strange little corners.

"They say there's lots of secret passages in this castle. Some of them haven't been discovered to this day. Wouldn't it be exciting if we found one?" Michael tapped the wall with his knuckles. "Ow! That was solid enough. Come on, let's go into this room. It's a sort of museum."

He led the way into a large hall with massive old swords and dusty flags on the walls. Michael was like an over-excited schoolboy as he swooped from one item to another.

Jane felt even colder than before. The dank, musty smell invaded her nostrils, making her long for the fresh air. She turned suddenly and walked towards the door, but then stopped just as suddenly. She had come face to face with a young man in a faded picture, hanging on the wall. She got the impression of a good height and great strength. A rich cloak was carelessly thrown over a suit of armour, one hand on his hip and the other on a sword. He was looking at something off to the left of the picture, not at her, yet she seemed pulled towards him in some way.

Almost in a dream, as if being guided by an unseen hand, Jane left the hall and walked along the corridor. She could feel the atmosphere of the castle begin to cast its spell. Now she could almost hear the rustle of the long dresses. She could see the Lord of the Manor sitting in his study, looking through important documents. Suddenly the castle was alive and Jane felt at home.

She climbed up a narrow, twisting staircase which ended on the parapet. The wind blew through her hair as she stood and gazed across at the surrounding countryside. The view was delightful; trees and grasses in the foreground, while on the horizon was a long range of hills, with the sun shining on them. Jane took a few steps further along the parapet and was confronted by a completely different vista. There was nothing but the sea, glistening and gleaming.

Jane forgot the cars and buses below her and saw only the bustling activity of a castle preparing to defend itself. As she stood there, she knew she had been there before. She had watched soldiers on horseback enter the castle. The gates had closed and the battlements were lined with men ready to die to save their families and friends.

The wind blew harder and the memory, there for a moment, vanished. Jane turned away from the battlement, a frown on her face. What happened then?

She feverishly turned the pages of the guide-book, as though it were a matter of life or death. Eventually she found a paragraph which told of a battle for the castle in the year 1482.

"The Lord of the Manor", Jane read, "incurred the wrath of the King, Edward the Fourth, and was attacked whilst in his castle."

"Jane!"

She looked in the direction of the voice. A tall, handsome young man was running along the battlement towards her. He wore armour and was armed with a sword in its scabbard and knife in a sheath.

"I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Richard!", Jane gasped. She knew him.

He gathered her into his arms and embraced her fiercely.

She knew him! They were to be married.

"It won't be long before the enemy launches their attack, my love. You must get down to a place of safety."

"I don't want to leave you."

"And I don't want you to go, but I prefer to think of you away from danger."

"Hiding in a cellar won't offer me much protection if the castle is taken."

"Disguise yourself as a kitchen maid. I want you to live. Promise me you'll live."

"Without you?"

"If needs must, though I hope to survive the battle."

Jane held him tightly. "I love you so much. Life without you is unthinkable."

"You will manage. A little sad, perhaps..."

"A little sad!" exclaimed Jane.

"All right - devastated. But it won't last forever. I'll be confined to dusty memories; pleasant ones, I hope."

"You could make them more pleasant."

"How?"

"Make love to me."

Richard took a pace back, slightly shocked. "But we're not married yet."

"Nor are we likely to be," Jane grimly responded. "I want this memory of you, feeling we are truly together, joined to each other."

Richard smiled. "You are not yet a kitchen maid."

"Pretend that I am. Have your way with me. Take your pleasure."

"I didn't realise you were such a wayward besom."

"At this moment, my lord, I am your own personal slut."

"Come then. For a short while at least, let us forget the dangers that lie ahead."

He took her by the hand and led her down the stairs and into a bed-chamber. Sword, knife and armour were quickly discarded, whilst Jane slipped out of her gown. She felt her heart beating fast as she stood naked in front of her love, drinking in his first admiring gaze. For her part she felt her eyes drawn to Richard's male instrument of pleasure, standing out firm and strong, waiting to do its duty.

Their lips met in a long, lingering, passionate kiss as they slowly sank onto the bed. Jane was aware of strong, masculine hands gently caressing her flesh. His knee edged her legs apart and she willingly opened wide for him, a flush of excited anticipation washing over her. He ran his tongue around her nipples and teased them with his lips until they were hardened buds of desire.

"Take me," she murmured.

A growing barrage of sound outside, shouts, clanging metal, horses whinnying and drums beating, added to the urgency of their coupling as Richard found her opening and plunged in, careless of her virginity and heedless of her cry of pain. He pushed in to the hilt and remained still until her little whimpers at the sudden invasion of her body had subsided.

"All right?" he enquired.

"Yes," she whispered. "It hurt for a moment, that's all. Give me your seed."

He slowly pulled back until he was nearly clear of her then pushed back in, with more tenderness than before. She gripped his forearms as he pumped back and forth, gradually building towards a climax. Jane moaned, this time with a mounting pleasure, her head thrashing back and forth.

"Ah!" Richard suddenly stopped, buried deep inside her, as his seed burst out. She arched her back, as if borne up by the power of his ejaculation.

For a moment they were frozen in mid-action and then it was all over. They collapsed down into the softness of the bed and their lips met in another sustained and passionate kiss.

The noises of an impending battle were growing more insistent and Richard reluctantly pulled himself up and away from the woman he had just deflowered.

"I wish...."

"What?"

"It didn't have to be like this."

She sat up. "You're already regretting what we did?"

Richard shook his head. "Of course not. I would have preferred better, more lawful circumstances, that's all. Less haste; more tenderness."

She held onto him. "I had all the tenderness I could have wished for. As to haste.... yes, it would have been nice to curl up together and luxuriate in the joy of our first coupling. But if I must be content with what I have had, then I shall be content. Until I see you again."

They kissed.

The boom of a cannon broke them apart.

"I have to go." Richard hurriedly began to don his clothes and armour. "Remember to go down to the kitchen, get out of that fine dress...."

"I think I've already done that," Jane managed to smile.

"But find something simpler to wear. More suited to a kitchen maid. You must survive."

"As must you," Jane murmured, taking his hand and brushing them with her lips.

With one last, long, lingering look, Richard left the bed-chamber.

*****

"Jane!"

The voice seemed distant, as if from another world.

She continued to read the guide book. "Despite a fierce struggle, which lasted for five days, the Lord was caught and executed. His daughter was to be married only one week later, but her lover was also killed. She succeeded in escaping, some say, dressed as a kitchen maid, and sought sanctuary in a nunnery where she remained for three years. Whilst there she gave birth to a son, who would eventually grow up to be close to the Tudor King, Henry VII and a power in the land. Rumour has it that her lover's ghost still roams round the castle as he looks for his betrothed."

Jane stared at the printed page for a long time and then slowly closed the guide-book. The story was familiar, although she had never read it before and knew nothing about the castle.

She brushed the hair out of her eyes, but the breeze immediately blew it down again. Slowly descending the winding stairs, she came to the narrow corridor. There was an overwhelming silence. No noise of shrieking children; no voices; no laughter; no thud of trainers on stone. The only sound was her own footsteps and the rustle of a woman's gown.

Jane suddenly stopped.

She had walked into a tiny alcove. It contained nothing but two stone seats opposite each other and a narrow slit in the wall, which served as a window. Sitting on one of the stone seats was a young man with steel blue eyes. He gazed up at Jane, but made no movement. Even so, she felt compelled to sit on the seat opposite him. It seemed as if he'd invited her to sit there.

The light, which had been coming through the slit in the wall, began to grow dim and Jane found it difficult to see the young man. His hand brushed lightly against hers. Suddenly she felt as if she were travelling through space, through time, through life itself.

"My dearest love," she murmured. "It's been so long....so long."

*****

The uniformed official jangled a large bunch of keys.

"You can't lock up!" exclaimed an agitated Michael. "My friend's still inside."

"She isn't here, sir. The castle's been searched from top to bottom – every nook, every cranny. She isn't here."

"Then where is she?"

"On her way home, like as not."

The official, who had seen lover's quarrels before and knew his tea would be ready by this time, did his best to remain patient.

"But I brought her. How could she go back without me?"

"She might have met another friend."

"Don't be preposterous," snorted Michael.

"She might have got on a bus. I really don't know, sir. But I do know that she isn't here. Now, please sir, let me get on with my job."

Michael felt humiliated and annoyed as he drove away in his car. He swore he would never trouble himself with a woman again – they were far too unpredictable.

Jane stirred and opened her eyes, hardly aware of where she was.

"Are you all right?" The voice was soft and tender.

"What....what happened?" For some reason, Jane found it a great effort to speak.

"You took one look at me and promptly fainted. I don't usually have such a devastating effect on women."

"I thought I'd seen a ghost."

The young man smiled. "I can assure you I'm flesh and blood. You can feel for yourself." He took her hand in his.

"I'm being foolish. I don't usually go around fainting, but I seemed to be spinning back in time – to a previous life. You must think I'm terribly foolish."

"To tell you the truth, I think you're terribly attractive." He smiled again and for the first time Jane looked at him properly. She gave a little gasp. "You're not going to faint again, are you?" the young man anxiously enquired.

"No, I don't think so, but...." Jane hesitated....."you're the man in the portrait."

"Not quite. He was a bit before my time – one of my ancestors. I'm the latest in a long line of Lords of the Manor. Of course, these days that doesn't mean much, except I have the burden of maintaining this place. I live in a small section, no bigger than a decent sized flat in London, and the rest is open to visitors. I have to be quite a businessman to make the books balance. Nothing very romantic, I'm afraid."

Jane looked around the smartly furnished room and saw a television set, a music centre and overflowing bookshelves. By the window was a large, modern desk with two telephones.

"Is this your apartment?"

"That's right. The private bit the public never sees – unless they happen to be a charming young woman who falls into my lap – quite literally. I carried you back here."

"Do you believe in reincarnation?" Jane asked.

"Not really."

"I – I feel we've met before – a long time ago."

"That's usually the man's line."

"And we were forcibly separated. What do you think?"

"I think you have a lively imagination that carries you away with it. I also think," the young man added, "that I'm very glad it does."

They gazed at each other in silence for some time and Jane gradually realised he was still holding her hand – very tightly, as if he never wanted to let go of her again.