High summer, around the solstice, when the sun dapples the ancient beechwoods until past nine o'clock up on the ridge above the farm. I was returning from evensong, taking a short cut along the ancient track that followed the ridge through these massy plants. The family had gone on before me, I had lingered to trim the family grave as was my habit. I walked slowly, revelling in the cooling air on my shoulders and forearms, guiltily lifting my heavy skirts higher than necessary for stepping over the roots across the pathway to allow some draught to my weary legs. My Sunday gown, the happy result of much patient stitching, was I thought the most becoming garment I had ever had; the fine pale yellow fabric had been costly, and Mama and I had cut it with care, piecing out the bodice and wide panels, lining and interlining them, making provision in the seams for some growth, for as Mama said although I was now sixteen and a woman shown, my slender waist might well expand somewhat and the generous flare of fabric over my hips would allow for motherhood. My arms were already shapely and strong, as befits a hardworking farmer's daughter, and my bosom was full and firm, although usually modestly covered by a kerchief.
Tonight, however, I untucked the square of fine white muslin and wiped the sweat from my forehead , flapping the cloth to dry it and cool myself.
My hair was coming loose from its pins, tumbling in rich red-brown curls down over my shoulders, merrily defying my attempts to confine it in a cap.
I was contented, in that dreamy state of fatigue that follows a day of heat and activity, even though it had been devout Sabbath activity, and as I travelled the path I hummed to myself, jumping some of the larger roots as if I were a small girl again. I felt no fear at being alone up here - were these not my own playground from earliest childhood? These smooth, grey-green trunks had been my delight for as long as I could remember, holding up rafts of weightless, gem-green foliage high above my head, the hummocky ground between the great trees deep in crisp, rich brown leaves the same colour as my hair.
I knew every great statuesque being, loved them all, knew every badger hole and bird's nest, every path, and I knew well how the birds would call their alarm signal if any danger lurked. There were no warning calls, only the gentle evening song from far overhead.
Something caught the edge of my vision, some movement almost behind me, darting behind a great tree - I whirled, but there was nothing. I went on, a little faster, then heard a rustling behind me, a rushing breeze that stopped as I did, and again - nothing. I felt a quivering in my legs, and a strange throbbing in my chest - but walked on, breathing deeply and determined to show no fear. But my hands crept together handfuls of my skirts, ready to lift them and run for my life. There had been tales of strange things up in these woods, of course - always tales by the fireside, of things seen and not seen, heard and not heard, shadows as of man-sized birds but no sound. I kept my eyes on the path ahead, moving as swiftly as I dared, knowing it would be longer to retreat than to advance. I could see the golden evening sky through the edge of the trees. Then the rustle, the rushing breeze again, bearing a sweet spicy scent - and my path was blocked by a gigantic butterfly-winged creature, which hovered in the air before me. I froze in shock and stared, fixing the image in my mind for ever.
It had mighty wings, in span each over eight feet, butterfly shaped but in the most wonderful shimmering hues of blue, green and purple, like the most exotic silks. These were beating in very rapid,tiny movements, holding aloft a being shaped like a man, but of a strangeness and beauty that transfixed me. He was long-limbed, slender, with long straight black hair, deep green eyes set under slanting brows, a full-lipped mouth, and a body like the ancient statues at Milord's new pleasure garden - beautiful of proportion, muscular without being heavy, and the hairless skin was the same pale gleaming brown as new beech bark. He was clothed only in a little rag of brown, a pouch that seemed to be barely containing a massy manhood. I could not scream or even speak, my chest was heaving with shock and my legs close to giving way altogether.
His expression was most curious, a look grave, tender, and yet proud and passionate. He drew closer to me and reached out one long, slender hand, and very lightly stroked my hair, my cheek, then trailed his cool fingers down my neck, throat, and lingered on the swell of my breasts.
'Beautiful' he murmured, a voice like the evening breeze through summer leaves, a sound oddly familiar to me. 'I choose you, earth maid. You will not see harm'
He sank down until his feet were on the loam, and came up close to me. He was tall, even with his great wings folded he transfixed me with his eyes, so oddly not-human, yet familiar. I looked up at his face, dared not move; he took me in his arms, held me close, and bent his face towards mine, and his lips laid cool and beautiful on my hot, trembling mouth. I felt the power in him , felt most burningly the urgent, thrusting bulge at his loins as it pressed against my belly, making my legs tremble and sink beneath me.
He lowered me to the soft leafmould, still kissing me, his hands caressing my shoulders and breasts. I shuddered as his fingers found and loosened the fastenings of my bodice, and he pulled away my thin chemise, kissing and caressing my breasts as he freed them from coverings. I tried to move my hands, to push him off, but there was little will behind that and he easily prevented me. He caught one of my hands and guided it to his loins, and I gasped as my fingers felt the soft weight of his parts, and the great thrusting rod above them. It was futile to struggle or resist, and I fell to caressing him with trembling fervour as he raised my skirts to my waist, revealing my thighs and loins to his cool, delicate touch. He discovered me, pressing and parting my legs, his fingers finding my secret pleasure place and with his touch made me close to swooning with delight. He loomed above me, his thighs inside mine, and then laid down on top of me and with his hand guided his great rod until it was nudging at the door to my womb. I felt languid, flooded with hot, eager juices, my nipples hard and aching with arousal for his touch, longing for him to thrust and impale me - although I was a virgin, I had seen it often enough in the farmyard to know what was to come, and my insides were melting with delight.
A warning 'ack-ack-ack' from the treetops - humans approaching, heavy careless tread making the ground tremble with their weight! He pressed down on me, his hand over my mouth, his great wings spread out covering us both - I lay still, breathing in the scent of his manhood , feeling it still throbbing at the portals, and then slowly, slowly, as the men tramped by within feet of the hollow where we lay, he thrust into me, a massive filling of my eager, quivering womb. Had I made a sound we would surely have been discovered - and I wanted so to scream in ecstasy, to moan and wriggle, to give vent to this overpowering onslaught of delight! I lay still and silent, breathing as little as I could while Jem and Ham and the other men walked away, their heavy voices echoing through the trees as my fairy lover deflowered me in silence. He was rigid and still, so still, lying with his rod buried to the hilt in me, his whole body vibrating with the intensity of his lust - then very slowly, very deliberately, he withdrew from me, leaving me open and wet, hot and longing for him, my legs and parts spread open below him.
I moaned softly in disappointment, and reached for his shoulders, to pull him back down onto, into me; he smiled and shook his head.
'No, maid. 'Tis too perilous here.' he sat beside me and pulled my skirts down, then reached out and fondled my aching breast. I raised my head, gasped at the sight of his rod, still massively erect - the largest tool I had seen on any beast save our horses or bulls, and it had been inside me... my insides churned again with longing and disappointment, and I wept in frustration.
'Come with me. I will carry you, you must be still and silent.'
He rose to his feet, raised me, then held me close in his arms, and bent his legs so that I sat astride his rod. 'Wrap your legs around me, hold tight. And close your eyes so ye be afeared' he murmured, and I obeyed. I felt him spring into the air, felt a rushing lifting , then opened my eyes a crack and glanced over his shoulder. Between the beating of his great wings, I saw the treetops below us - I buried my face in his shoulder and he laughed, his arms holding me tight.
I felt in no danger, though - he was so strong, his grasp so sure, that my fear left me, and I raised my head again and looked.
We were high above the treetops, moving swiftly through the warm evening air, rising still higher until the countryside below us was toy-sized. We were flying sunward, I saw the glittering ribbon of our river below, then the country in deep shadow, and knew we were heading toward the Great Woods, the ancient forest where all were forbidden to go but Milord. We sank down slowly towards an open glade, and landed softly on the grass, my lover lowering me gently down onto my back and rubbing my limbs where they had stiffened from their long embrace.
'Brave maid. Th'art as bold as th'art lovely' he murmured, then raised me to sitting, his arms around my shoulders as he held me close. His loin-rag had fallen off, discarded in the beechwoods, and I realised that I had left there my kerchief as well. A surge of conscience made my eyes prick.
'My father will worry - I will be late home'
He kissed me softly. 'Fear not, maid. I can return you to the place and instant of our meeting. You'll not be late.'
He took me there, in the open air, the shadows of evening advancing from the riverbank as we coupled.
It was glorious, a great sweeping overwhelming flood, and there I writhed and moaned as he impaled me, wrapped my thighs around his hips, feeling his buttocks tight, hard, pounding his rod deep into my eager womb. He moaned softly as he arched above me, then thrust deep, deep, fast and desperate into me, his seed spurting into my eager, flowering womb and mingling with my own juices. He sank down onto me, quivering and gasping, and I caressed him, stroking his broad shoulders and slender waist, feeling his smooth, cool body relaxing onto mine, the great alien wings soft and light,spread over us both. He kissed me gently on the mouth, then my breasts, then rolled away and sat up, gazing at me in the evening light. I felt shy, and closed my trembling legs, and he smiled and stroked up my thigh, his fingers dipping into that wet, deep cleft , then on up my belly until my gown prevented him.
'Th'art truly lovely, maid. Now sleep....'
My eyes closed, and I laid there warm and at ease, vaguely aware of other soft voices, of light, delicate touches on my person; my clothes were put to order and my gown re-fastened, and the skirts drawn down over my legs. Something soft and warm was laid over me, and I sank into a deep sleep, knowing nothing until a gentle kiss on my cheek roused me. I opened my eyes, saw my lover - and not my lover? - he was clad in the rough jerkin and shirt of a woodsman, no sign of his great wings, although the fey green eyes and russet skin were unchanged. The sun was still slanting through the woods - my woods - I was lying in the hollow where we had been before - and he raised me gently to my feet, then draped my kerchief around my shoulders, tucking it down over my bosom with sure, gentle fingers.
He smiled as I stared bemused at him.
''Tis well, maid, if ye know me not as fey. We tread these paths often and have watched ye these many years.'
He would have said more, but the jackdaw cried his warning, and one quick embrace, one light kiss on my mouth, and he was gone, running lightly across the leaf mould, as Jem and Ham came plodding heavily up the hillside, talking of the sheep shearing to come.
'Mistress Madlyn! Ye'll be late homing, lingering in the woods till sunset. Come, we'll see ye safe.'
I fell in with them and we made our way back home.
I washed carefully before bed, as was my habit, and made sure nobody saw the blood-tinged water I threw out. I had wondered if anything had happened - had it been a fantasy? Or had I been ravished by a woodsman with the power to disguise himself as a faerie? My dreams that night were of floating naked in the cool night air, high above the valley, supported by my lover's impaling organ and his strong arms as we delighted in our union. Just before dawn, when the hilltops below us were tinged with rose and amber, he took me back to my chamber, climbing lightly through the open casement. So long as I held on to a part of him I was weightless and floated as easily as mist, and he lowered me to my bed, kissing and caressing me before drawing up the sheet over my glowing body and withdrawing himself reluctantly.
'Ah, sweet maid. 'Tis hard to leave ye, even for the space of one day. ' he whispered into my ear, and I kissed him hard on his beautiful mouth. He had to go - I could hear Jasper moving in his room and knew that dawn was close.
It was a night of such delights, such freedom and soaring ecstasy, I did wonder if it had been dream or reality. But I slept a little at the end of my dream, and woke refreshed as if I had slumbered all night.
The days rolled past, full of the usual comfortable round of work for all; for me, learning to cook and manage the kitchen beside Mama, as well as learning about her herbs and how to tend them. She was teaching me all she knew herself of herb and healing lore, as befits a good country woman. We went one afternoon up to the beechwoods to gather rames, sovereign remedy for headache and bruising; we passed a group of woodsmen coppicing the lower slope, who greeted us courteously, and I blushed as I recognised my lover in their number. He looked broader of shoulder and taller than I knew him at night, but the slanting green eyes and night-black hair were his alone, and he smiled at me as I passed by.
