‘Ned...I must tell you–’ He took her hand. She tried to pull free. ‘No, Ned. No.’ He held her hand gently, but firmly, and without an unseemly struggle, which Gwenn was not prepared for, she was unable to free herself. A cloud threw a chilly shadow over her shoulders. Strange, one part of her mind found time to think, she never would have guessed that so fine a day would turn dull.
‘Gwenn... May I call you that? Gwenn...’
To add to her confusion, he dropped to his knees, and for the second time that day she had a man kneeling at her feet. Only this time it was no jest. This time she did not laugh.
‘No, Ned. Please. Listen to me.’ But Ned shook his head and gripped her fingers fiercer than ever. He touched her cheek. His hand was trembling. Gwenn felt tears prick behind her eyes. ‘Oh, Ned,’ she said, despairingly. ‘I’m so sorry.’
The shadow was growing longer. Everywhere as far as she could see, the dappled sunspots winked out one by one. She shivered. The birds fell silent. The leaves stopped rustling. It was eerie. It was as though all life in the wood was suspended, and everything – birds, animals, trees, shrubs – had stopped breathing. The hairs rose on the back of her neck. ‘Ned,’ she whispered, urgently. ‘Ned, something’s wrong.’
Reluctantly, Ned tore his eyes from her face. The bright colour ebbed from his face. ‘You’re right.’ He jumped up, pulling her to her feet. ‘Something is wrong.’
The light had taken on a dusk-like quality, and it was growing darker and more like night by the second.
‘A storm?’ Gwenn asked optimistically, though in her heart she knew it was no such thing.
‘No. Not a storm.’ Ned’s hand crept to the reassuring solidity of his swordhilt.
The darkness was still thickening, it hung like a pitchy awning over the glade.
Vainly Gwenn tried to see beyond the gloom gathering in the gaps between the trees. It was like twilight. ‘Ned, I’m scared. I’ve never heard such a silence in the forest.’
Ned was scared too, but he wasn’t going to admit it. He should protect Gwenn, but he was damned if he knew what he was meant to be protecting her from. Valiantly trying for lightness, he threw a swift grin over his shoulder. ‘You can’t hear silence, Gwenn.’ His witticism was ignored. He heard her move closer; he felt her fingers curl round his belt. Her breath fanned the back of his neck. He shut his eyes and steeled himself from turning and taking her in his arms.
‘Ned?’ She was clinging to him as though he were a lifeline. ‘Holy Mother, it’s the end of the world!’
He whirled about. Gwenn’s head was tipped upwards, her eyes so dilated with terror, they were solid black. She was staring through a gap in the leaves.
‘Look,’ she pointed, ‘look at the sun!’
Ned looked and wished he hadn’t. One moment he could see its brightness, and the next he could not. The sun was snuffed out. Gwenn’s panic fuelled his, and the boundaries of his world tilted. God and His Angels must be at war with the forces of the Devil. Order was fighting chaos, and chaos had triumphed. They were enclosed in a dark, quiet world and the only sound was the sound of their heartbeats and their flurried, frightened breathing. Then, because Gwenn’s slight body pressed trembling to his, and because he had pledged himself to her and wanted to comfort her, Ned pulled her into his arms
It felt the way it did in his dreams. She was warm, and soft, and clinging to him. He held her tenderly, as though she might break. He was afraid that if he held her too tightly, she would melt into the air as she did in his dreams.
‘Ned?’ Brown eyes looked at him, and they were no longer afraid. ‘Don’t worry, Ned. It’s an eclipse.’
‘Eclipse? Will the sun come back?’ His voice shook, but whether from fear or emotion, he could not have said.
‘It will come back quite soon.’
Ned rested his cheek against her head and wondered how long eclipses lasted. How soft her hair was. How slim her waist. However long it lasted, it would not be long enough. Marshalling his dazed senses, he reminded himself that he came of peasant stock while the blood which coursed through her veins was finer, purer stuff.
She was watching the sun, angling her head towards that dark slash in the leaves. Ned wasn’t interested in the eclipse, he was too busy observing the play of expression on her face. He wanted to watch her while he could still hold her. He might have a minute or two longer. He let his eyes drink their fill. He loved the delicate line of her nose, and the freckles which the spring sunshine had scattered across her cheekbones. He loved the curve of her cheeks, the shape of her mouth, the small, white, even teeth. Hoping she was too absorbed to notice, he pressed a swift kiss on her temple. He loved the scent of her. A heady mixture of rosemary and Gwenn.
‘Gwenn.’ He bit his lip, foolishly he’d spoken aloud. She stirred in his arms and instinctively, for he wanted to prolong the moment, Ned tightened his hold.
Fortunately, Gwenn was oblivious of him and conscious only of the wonder she was witnessing. ‘It’s getting brighter. Look, Ned, it’s as though God’s drawing back a curtain. Ned?’
He would have a second or two...
‘You’re not looking!’ she said, and understanding that his taste of heaven was over, Ned slackened his hold and obediently tipped his head back to follow her pointing finger.
The first shaft of sunlight slanted through the trees, and as the rays strengthened, the spots of light jumped back into place. A breeze rattled the leaves, and the sunspots shimmered and twirled about the clearing. A blackbird flung back its head, opened its orange bill, and a phrase of song floated out. The bird hesitated, but only for an instant, and the song was completed on a confident ripple of sound. A bluetit flew to a perch on an overhanging branch, and blinked at them with eyes like shiny glass beads.
‘It’s over,’ Ned said, regretfully.
Gwenn’s eyes were as bright as the bluetit’s. ‘It was incredible. I’ve never seen an eclipse before.’
‘Incredible.’ Ned swallowed. It was all he could manage. He wondered miserably if he’d ever have Gwenn in his arms again. She was looking down the path to Kermaria.
‘Ned, you don’t think it was an ill omen, do you?’
‘An ill omen?’
Pearly teeth worried an almond-shaped nail. ‘You don’t think God is angry with my father?’
‘Why should God be angry?’
‘Because...because of the wedding.’
‘I should think God would be pleased, wouldn’t you?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps it’s too late to make amends. Perhaps He does not approve of Mama.’
Gwenn’s expression was unhappy, and Ned’s arms ached to hold her, for her comfort and for his. ‘I don’t believe that,’ he said stoutly. ‘Your mother’s a fine lady.’
‘I agree with you. But does God? Remember what happened in Vannes?’ Recalling his involvement in that, Ned felt sick. ‘Remember what the townsfolk said about her? Perhaps God will not forgive someone like my mother. Do you think God forgives great sins?’
‘He must.’ Ned moved closer, pinning his arms to his sides to prevent himself from taking her hands. ‘Gw...Mistress Gwenn,’ now the eclipse was over he must remember to address her formally, ‘we cannot be the only people who witnessed the eclipse. Why should such a phenomenon be directed solely at your parents? If God had a message for your parents, wouldn’t He find a more personal way of delivering it? And now, Mistress Gwenn, we should be getting back. Your parents will be wondering where you are.’ He waved her ahead of him.
She could only have proceeded ten paces when she halted. ‘Ned, I...I... There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.’
‘Mistress?’
Gwenn twisted her hands together, and her cheeks went the colour of a dark rose. ‘Ned, I...I wanted to tell you how much I like you, and how much I value your friendship, b...but...’ She stammered to a halt, and her brown eyes gazed helplessly up at him. Her flush deepened.