She woke up alone in the cramped room above her bakery, bed-ridden, feverish, sweat-soaked. Her windows were open, but the weather on this hot August night was of little comfort. With only burned-out candles on the table by her bed, she was enveloped in the night’s darkness, which was also of little comfort. Exhausted, she said what prayers she could. A day or two ago, they had been promise-filled appeals for healing. Now, when she could make the effort, she simply prayed for relief.
Too weak to leave her bed, she’d lost track of time. She tried to think of how long it had been since she last left her bed, when, with a sharp tang, the memories of her lover’s funeral broke through the haze in which she now spent her waking moments. Oh Pierre! Oh my love! With swollen tears, she tried to think back on their happier moments together, but the effort was too much to bear and she soon fell back to sleep.
A footstep on the stairs wakes her up and, with an effort, she turns her head to the doorway to see who might be visiting her. Through the hazy, grayish light, she sees her lover enter the room and walk to the side of her bed. He is so handsome, so regal, just as she remembered him.
”Pierre? Is that really you?” she quietly asks as she extends a hand out to him.
Taking it, he kneels down and soothingly replies, “Yes, my love. I am here.”
”Oh dear God in Heaven! You’re alive! Oh thank you God, thank you! We must tell everyone.” Corinne begins to cry then, gentle sobs of relief.
He squeezes her hand gently, chiding, “Tut-tut, now. You need to rest.” With his free hand, he gently cups her face; his thumb wipes a tear from her cheek. Soothingly, he adds, “I came as soon as I heard. It won’t be long now.”
”Oh my love, but it has been so long, so very long. The funeral, the fever. But, now you’re here, now you’re here,” she says, weakly squeezing his hand.
”Yes, my love. I am here.” Placing her hand gently down on the bed, he stands up and kisses her on the cheek.
As he kneels back down, a fiery gleam sparks in her fevered eyes. “A kiss on the cheek? Doesn’t the Lady of the Lake deserve more than that?”
”Yes she does, and more besides,” he says, taking her hand again and smiling down at her.
”Ah, but you’ll have to wait. I’m too tired for Excalibur tonight,” she says wearily. Turning away from him, she closes her eyes and relaxes, seeming to be asleep. After a few moments, she turns back to him, fresh tears on her face. “Do you love me, Pierre?”
”Yes,” he answers as he begins to gently stroke her hair. “I love you more than life itself.”
”And I you. I always have. I always will.” Closing her eyes, she pauses and surrenders to his caressing hand as fresh tears begin to squeeze free. “Oh, what have I done?” she laments. Opening her eyes, she says to Pierre in between sobs, “What have I done to you? To us? Is it too late? Oh my love, I am so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”
”No, Corinne, it is not too late.” he says soothingly. “I can and I have forgiven you. We are both forgiven.”
Corinne squeezes his hand and smiles weakly at him. Turning away then, Corinne closes her eyes. After another few moments, she asks, “Is the journey difficult?”
”No, my love. That’s why I’m here.”
”I know,” Corinne replies and begins to relax. After a final few moments pause, she softly says, “I’m ready now.”
With her eyes closed and her breathing relaxed, she senses the love of her life rise from the floor beside her. The room is deathly still, with nary a sound save the beating of her heart and the metallic scrape of a dagger unsheathing.