Motivation: A Clip from "Ard Righ"

Love seeketh only Self to please, to bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease, and builds a Hell in Heaven's despite.

Lugh shown his light on the tops of the trees, painting them a light green color, then amber, as the afternoon progressed.   He whistled while he worked, stirred the panalopy of leaves, sighed through the forest like a secret

Cernuous ran through the branches; now playing tag, now performing an acrobatic chase, now leaping without care through the canopy.   He and his brothers were on the prowl for the succulent chestnut, to secret it away to be eaten on a cold winter’s day when Taranis would cause the north winds to bring down the snow and ice to lock the land a frigid winter’s stasis.

Arianrhod laughed and sang as she tumbled swiftly downstream through the woods.   She polished her bed of stone as she tinkled merrily in the stillness of the afternoon.   Now and again a trout could be seen as it leaped for joy from the occasional deeper pools and eddies, then splashing down again playfully as the water bubbled and frothed around it to receive it joyously back.

Mabon would arrive soon, a welcomed guest who’d bring with him the rich grains of the field, the bountiful harvests of Lughnasa.   He’d inhabit the land until the Morrigan came for him, creeping slowly across the fields as she dotted each blade of grass with the cold touch of frost.   She’d bring with her grim winter, and the end of that year’s life cycle, marked at Samhain.

But the sun was not finished just yet; the air was still warm with promise and the scent of summer.   Cicadas rattled at each other across the fields as they created a late summer cacophony whose noises shimmered the very air itself.

The lady and her partner entered the field from the north.   He was chasing her, she laughing with golden hair flying out behind like yellow fingers of sunlight.   He reached for her hair like a lifeline, feeling the silk as it slid through his stretching fingertips like water.   He laughed as he pulled up short, breathing heavily.

“I can’t chase you anymore, lady.   You run too fast!”

She stopped, panting with the effort of evasion.   “What, the greatest knight in the land is too slow to catch a simple woman?”

He looked at her and laughed.

“Simple?   You?   I think not, my Princess.   In fact, I think you’re quite the conundrum.”

She stood in front of him, pressing her body to his.   “There’s no mystery to this, good sir knight.”   She lifted her face to his and closed her eyes languidly as she kissed him gently on the lips.   “Isn’t that what you pursue?   Am I not worthy of such pursuit?”

The knight sighed, kissed the top of her head softly, slowly.   Her hair smelled of wildflowers, and he could’ve kept his nose buried in it for the rest of his life and counted himself lucky.   “You’re worthy of the pursuit of a king, my princess.”

There it was, like a stone wall dropped between them.   She backed away, her mood suddenly sullen and quiet.   “That’s not fair and you know it.”

He reached for her, but she stepped back, deftly avoiding his grasp.   “I’m sorry, my lady, but it’s the painful truth of things.”

“I know it is!”   Her reaction was like a sudden cloudburst, her mood instantly darkened, her voice a rumble of thunder, her words the lightning striking him, shocking him.   The inevitable cloudburst followed as tears flowed precipitously down her cheeks.   “I know it is and there’s nothing I wouldn't do to change things!”

He caught her by the arm and pulled her gently into his embrace.   “I didn’t mean to upset you.”   He kissed her forehead and brushed the hairs off her face with his lips.   “You know I’d spare you any pain, most of all this pain.”

“I know you would.”   She looked into his face, and his world stopped turning.   “I'm sorry for my tears.”

It was a moment before he could answer.   “Don’t apologize for that which is freely and sincerely given, my love.”

She smiled at him.   “I love you with all my heart, don’t you know this?”   She shuddered as if a chill had passed through her.   “Sometimes it’s so cold, so very cold and dark,” she said in a small voice.   The moment passed, if it was there in the first place.   Her mood lightened as she looked up at him.   “You’re the sunlight in my very soul, sweeping away the chilled shadows of the night.”

“As you are to me, my love.”

They kissed in the fading light of the afternoon, a couple very much in love.   High above their heads, a hawk circled in an ever-widening gyre as it rode the thermal waves rising from the meadow
far below.

“We could leave.”   He held her hands in his.   “We could gather provisions together, we could pack the horse, and we—”

She put a soft hand over his mouth.   “We couldn’t leave, my love.   You know we couldn’t.”

He fought off a rising panic in his chest.   “Yes we could!”

She smiled a melancholic smile and began to hum a soft, wistful tune for his ears only.   “You are the light in my darkness.” She touched his cheek like a gentle rain.   Her love for him bubbled forth through the song.   “You are my knight in fine armor, shining brightly for me.”   Her hand dropped to her side.   “No, we couldn’t leave.   We have our duties to perform, for king and country.”   She sighed, a bitter sound, the sound of someone who must enter a long, dark tunnel to reach the light on the other side.

An angry look flashed in his eyes, a look that if directed at an enemy would surely signify death.   “Damn duty!”   He slammed one fist into his open hand.   He knew she was right, knew they’d honor and respect their duty.   Some things were bigger than individual needs and concerns.   This was one.

“You’re right.   We must perform our duty to the best of our abilities.”   He was a newly sworn knight to the Ard Righ of Briton, Arthur the Pendragon.   He’d always placed his expectations of himself in a lofty place.   Now, they were even higher.   Knight of the Court of Caerleon, seat of power for the High King.

Military discipline took control of him, almost automatically.   His heart shut off like the pump that it was, swinging closed like a stout oak door, with Gwenhwyfar standing on the outside.   “My lady, I’ll escort you back to the caer.”   He stood crisply in front of her.

Gwenhwyfar watched the transformation from man to courtier, and a tear spilled out of her eye and left a wet stain down her cheek.   “Certainly, my lord.”   She accepted the proffered arm and slipped her hand over his elbow.   “Thank you for a pleasant day.”

“You’re welcome, my lady.”   They walked stiffly towards the city.   “It will be harvest-time soon.”   They made droll conversation about safe subjects as they made their way across the field.

The hawk, gliding high above the meadow, winged its way east, in the direction of the caer itself.