There Came a Prince
The rains came and did they ever. Matthew Hood sat beneath the canopy. The forest ceiling that usually kept him dry did not on this eve. He wondered if somewhere a man was boarding an Ark, but he knew of the Lord’s promise. Though, he imagined the rain never fell so, except for the time of Noah.
It was dark in the forest, darker then most. The heavy rain clouds provided a higher blanket over the canopy, shielding the stars and moon. He likened the rain to a thousand; no a hundred thousand elfin archers perched on Heavens cloud firing their arrows down at the mere land he inhabited. Though, the arrows of rain did not wound, they did pierce. Pierce with a bitter cold that trembled within the marrow itself. Mathew shuddered, looking up briefly into the rains of his Lord falling tears. A gentle tap came to his shoulder. Matthew turned to see a woman wearing a gentle smile, though her eyes held grave concern. “It is time.” She said, and as she did it seemed the rain fell to a hush and all became still. Matthew rose, uncertain and careworn. “Yes,” he replied softly. The woman offered a hand. Matthew took it willingly. Even though he was chilled, and trembled with cold and dread, he felt the warmth of her hand and it was comforting. He followed the ground with each step. His eyes unwilling to look up, to see what was coming. The usually parched earth drank well from the rain, soaked and soft beneath him. My Lord, please let this pass and let all be well, for the Kingdom, and for all my years of exile. For the love of … Mathew’s silent prayer drifted behind cinched lips as he held the last of his words in his bosom. She was there, lying on the dampened ground. The moister held her in a slight cradle. Her skin glowed in the night. Beautiful, breathtaking, even beneath the veil of her pain. The rain pelted her cruelly, and Matthew angered, but he would not let his love see this. He let go of the woman’s hand. She stopped, allowing him to approach her alone. He knelt beside her, taking her hand in his. “I love you,” he whispered before gently kissing her forehead. She smiled, but did not open her eyes. Matthew looked at her, absorbing her beauty. She was a Queen, no matter the views of any other. Precious and warm, her gifts abound beyond her beauty. She was a woman, a companion, a friend, and an equal in every sense of meaning. She was the greater part of him, and he loved her beyond the Heavens. “Raelin?” He said as softly as the falling rain would allow. She gripped his hand tighter in response. “Hold on my love. Please hold on. I cannot be without you.” The quiver in his voice, the fear of abandonment was apparent. Raelin buckled; her body raised both shoulders and legs. The scream that exited her was hellish. Matthew fell back, still in her grasp. He felt a touch of her pain, as she cinched his hand with unbelievable force. The woman, her Mid-wife rushed to her. She positioned herself between Raelin’s legs and instructed her to push. Matthew looked on from Raelin’s side. He was confused and helpless, as the pain took his beloved. He remembered his father. He raised him alone. As his mother died giving life to him. He remembered the resentment his father held, and the punishment whenever he displeased him. “Not only do you disappoint me boy, but you killed your own mother as well!” He prayed his whole life not to be like his father. He begged God for the strength. “Raelin please, I cannot be without you.” She hadn’t released a breath in what seemed like an eternity. Matthew pleaded with the Mid-wife. “Please!” “Push M’lady. Is God’s way.” She replied. Raelin fell back. The rain soaked earth labored in a marshy reply. “Raelin?” She was still. Her breast sank and did not return. A cry echoed through the forest, penetrating even the pitiless rain. The Mid-wife finished preparing the child, as Matthew held his angel. He watched the woman as she cradled the young, paying Raelin no mind. She wrapped him in a dry blanket, and the rains they stopped. He felt a pang in his heart and a heat building in his soul. “She is with God. She has done what she was called to do.” The Mid-wife said, extending her arms with baby in hand. “Welcome your son, the prince, my Lord.” She said, as she knelt in the wet, dirty earth. Matthew rose, looking down at Raelin as he did. His eyes wandered down to the Mid-wife, he could see the joy in them. The acorn glistened in pleasure, and he felt the pang grow. His beloved dead and he was so very alone. “My Lord, please, this is your prince. Your child bore from the purest of love, with the most precious of women. She would want you to, she would.” Matthew looked back at Raelin. She glimmered in the breaking sun. Her beauty countless, and in her death she seemed to smile. “For you.” He whispered. He took the infant. With first eyes he looked at the boy, and the pang and burning in his soul quieted. “I shall not be my father, as God is my witness. And in the memory of my beloved I shall be both father and a touch of mother. For I could never be her, and for that I pray you can forgive me.” Matthew looked up to the Heavens. Fallen remnant of rain touched his face, washing the tears that streaked his cheeks. “Care for her as I,” he whispered. The Mid-wife rose. She pulled the blanket back slightly as to let the warmth of the penetrating sun bathe the boy’s face. She asked of her exiled King, “What shall you name him?” “Robin, Robin Hood.” -Copy - 2012 |
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