Promises Unkept

Earth to Earth

Tonight was the night of atonements.

He had stepped out of the manor for some fresh air and moments of star-watching. But then, an urge to ride into the moors overwhelmed him to a degree that, unthinking, he had walked into the stable and led out his favorite mount, dark, raven Thames.

He rode as far as two miles and more when he suddenly realized that he was at the frontier of Ashleyton.

But tonight, he felt wilder, went farther.

The crossing was long past.

And then, in the detached azure midnight that stretched across the green-bronze hills of Hertfordshire, in the emulsive cold moonlight the played chase with the grey patch of a vagrant cloud piece_ now light and now not_ Lord Stephen Adelwood, windswept now, stood awkwardly in the spanning courtyard of the cathedral, seeking what an adrift man often seeks.

Anchorage.

And this church was no mere church, to speak of.

This was where he and Eden first met. Where, he was married and she.

He glanced around once, to ensure there was no audience. None, he found.

But the night watched him with its secret watching eyes, its bemused nightly eyes cackling at his simplicity, its elbow propped upon the horizon, with head resting on hand_ the night watched.

And the owl watched too.

The almond tree watched too. And hedges too watched. Nightingales watched. Moon watched with him. And that patch of cloud with the moon. The crickets and the fireflies, all watching.

The departing summer watched. The disembarking fall watched.

Night breeze tousled his caramel hair.

He mounted the three stairs. He pushed the giant Iron Gate open.

Inside, it was bright.

Not candles, no.

The moon. The glass ceiling, a dome of complete transparency shed the church.

Moonbeam flitted on the floor, giving the church a grave, sinister air. Sardonically.

On the far end, near the altar sat an old man, the church guard, with a heavy volume of bible in his wrinkled hand. A candle, the only one, lit near him.

He guarded the church and the church guarded him. Guided him. It was mutual.

The old man on realizing the arrival, lifted his eyes, saw a young man with natural fine features, tall, with an aura of sensibility entering the aisle. He stood up snapping his book shut, left the candle and nodding at the lord, left from a side door.

Perhaps he knew that at hours like this, dark and quiet, only secrets were to be spilled of any lips that sought deities.

He gave this young man the necessary privacy.

Lord Adelwood reluctantly moved further in.

He walked to the front; he stepped up at the altar. The moon poured its light generously on him as he did so.

He realized that this was a beautiful church. He hadn't noticed it back then. But again, back then, he hadn't found Eden beautiful either.

He stood on the exact point where months ago, he had been standing_ in fury then, in serenity now_ waiting for her.

She had been here that day. Unlike tonight.

He stared sedately at the earth where she had stood. Looking enchanting, if he recalled it now. That piece of ground held particular gravity for him. His eyes. Body. Soul.