The Lovers

It had been many long weeks since Diana had last seen her beloved, her fiancé. Though she had received many letters from him in his absence, and sent as many more, her heart still pined and mourned their separation. He had left on a grand adventure to prove his worth for her, and while she had begged him to change his mind he would not be dissuaded. And so she was left behind in her father’s castle, to await the return of her love.1

In his many letters, he described great deeds he had accomplished, but mourned that none of them made him worthy of her. Only a few weeks before he had promised to return, her father threw a grand party for the return of another knight. Diana wandered lonely among the festivities and, though it was very improper for a lady of stature, much less one betrothed, she helped herself to several goblets of wine.2

Late into the night, she found herself sitting on a bench in her father’s garden; talking gaily to a man she had only met that night. They spoke as though old friends, joking around and laughing much. However, because she had spoken of it earlier in a group when she had first encountered the man, she did not again mention her beloved. Her mind, that one night, was only on having some fun after the weeks of misery that she’d had at being apart from her beloved.3

As the night was coming to a close, she stood and moved to give the man she felt a friendship towards a hug, but when she did he surprised her by leaning down and kissing her lightly on the lips. Before anything else could happen, she stepped quickly backwards and looked in shock at the man she’d considered only a friend. “… You should not have done that.” She said in a quavering voice and turned and, unsteadily, walked to her chambers leaving the man to stand in confusion.4

Before retiring to her bed that night, Diana sat at her writing table and began to write a letter to her beloved. She knew that she should tell him of what had happened, but the drunken voices in the back of her mind told her that no, it would only hurt him horribly if she confessed what she had unwittingly allowed to happen. Instead, she wrote of the love she had for her beloved, and of how much she was looking forward to her return. Feeling unsure, but convinced by the voices in her mind, she did not mention in her letter all the events of the night.5

For the next week her mind was constantly at war. She knew she should fulfill her promise to her love, and tell him what had come to pass. But, the voices reasoned, it would hurt him. It would be better to hide it forever, let it be her secret shame, though she had not intended for the kiss to ever happen, and indeed never kissed back. But, she allowed the voices to continually sway her, for whenever she sat down to write to her beloved what had transpired, she felt a clenching in her stomach, her brow would become wet with nervous sweat and she found herself unable to commit the words to paper. That would, the voices whispered to her; make it so it truly happened. Her unforgivable transgression would be real if she committed it to writing.6

A week came to pass, and still she was at war in herself. Feeling horrid, because she had promised several times that she would tell her love if anything of the sort were ever to happen. And finally, she could stand it no more. She sat down at her writing table, and forced the words to come out.7

Her letter reached her love at the most inopportune time. He was preparing for battle when the messenger arrived. After reading the letter, he was stricken with grief, and anger that she had kept it from him for so long. His mind was not on the battle, but instead on the act his beloved had committed and then hid from him. Through the battle, he felt all range of emotions. He considered casting her aside, for she was spoiled goods now. He could not believe in his heart that she had not kissed back, for she must have had reason for not telling him at once. Perhaps that reason was so she could formulate a convincing story. And to hug a stranger! That act baffled him, for she had sworn that touching another man felt wrong since being with him.8

He responded to her letter after a harrowing battle that he had not paid attention to. He questioned the love he had for her, wondered if he should not even come back at the time he had said. He wondered most of all if he was wrong to spend his life with this woman. And all of this, he committed to paper and sent back to his fiancée.9

In the time after she sent the letter, Diana spent it grief-stricken, convinced that she had destroyed her chance at true love, their chance at a happy life together. She beat her bed and tore at her hair, slammed her hand into the mirror and felt the shards of glass cut her arm and stomach. She screamed and wept, inconsolable by all. When she finally received her fiancés letter, she was unable to concentrate on her weaving and ran from the room in tears. 10

His letter had concluded saying that he still loved her, that they would have their future as planned, but that he could not trust her now. She wept more because of this, not believing that he had forgiven her, convinced that when they met again he would only cast her aside and laugh at her grief.11

The time came when he returned to her father’s castle. Their meeting, though joyous, was underpinned with a thread of distrust. They went to her chambers and sat on the bed in silence for a few minutes. Then, Diana burst into tears and looked into her loves eyes, “I am so sorry that this happened. I never wanted it to; I would do anything to change it. I wish so much that I had told you of this in my first letter to you after it happened. I have been inconsolable since it happened; I am convinced that I’ve lost you… My love, have I?”12

He looked at her in calculating silence for minutes, leaving her heart beating wildly in her chest. “Diana… I do still love you. Things feel different now. I have no trust for you, and love cannot be without trust.”13

“Oh, but it can! It will be hard, but we can do it!” Diana looked at her lover with moist eyes, “I will show you that you can trust me again. I will do anything that I can. I promise you…”14

“I cannot trust you.” He said softly, looking at her, “But.. I still love you as much as I did, as different as I feel now. You have hurt me greatly. But, I have spent my life being hurt by those close to me, why should you be any different?”15

She began to weep again, “Because I love you! That’s why it should have been different. I never wanted to hurt you. That is why I didn’t tell you at first. I convinced myself it would be better to keep this to myself.”16

“Have you kept anything else from me?” he interrupted17

“No. This is the only thing. This will be the only thing. I could never put either of us through this again. Please believe me.”18

“I do not know if I can. I do not even know if I should believe that you love me as much as you say you do.”19

With those words, he tore a hole in her heart that perhaps could never mend. She could understand not trusting her actions, not trusting her telling of what had transpired, but to question the love she felt? The love that he no doubt saw in her eyes every time she looked at him, felt every time she touched him? That cut deeper then any mistrust ever could. “I love you… as much as I ever said that I do.” She wept, “I made a horrible mistake that night. But that does not mean that my love from you is any different then I have ever said. I would never lie about such a thing!”20

He thought over her words. And then, quite slowly, spoke again, “I will not leave you.” He decided, indeed had already decided, “But will we ever have what we once did?”21

“We will!” she said firmly, leaning across the bed to touch her lips to his. “We must.” She wrapped her arms around him and they sat in the comfort of each others arms.22

Days came and went, turned into weeks. Slowly, he gained his trust back. He could see in her eyes, in her smile, hear in her laugh that she loved him. That doubt went away quickly. And, as she made sure to carefully relate everything of the day that happened when he wasn’t by her side, he slowly found himself trusting again. It wasn’t the same as before, things had changed. But, things always must change, he reasoned to himself.23

Months after the incident had come and gone, the lovers were as though nothing had happened. They lay in each others arms for hours, speaking of the future and the love they had for each other. They laughed together, and told glorious, fanciful tales of the ancient days. And, though things were indeed just a little bit different then they had been before that fateful night, the love was still there. The trust, in time, did come back. And the future, it stayed how it was supposed to be. For these two lovers, Diana and James, were meant to be. Destiny always has a funny way of working around the mistakes of humans and making the future happen as it should be.24