Also, it is
said, there are great stags, and roe-deer, and wild boars, and it is
Athelwold's joy to hunt them and slay them with his spear. A joy too
when he returns from the hunt or from a long absence to play with his
beautiful wife--his caged bird of pretty feathers and a sweet song to
soothe him when he is tired. But of his life at court he tells me
little, and of even that little I doubt the truth. Then he leaves me and
I am alone with his retainers--the crowd of serving men and women and
the armed men to safeguard me. I am alone with my two friends which I
have found, one out of doors, the other in--the river which runs at the
bottom of the ground where I take my walks, and the fire I sit before.
The two friends, companions, and lovers to whom all the secrets of my
soul are confided. I love them, having no other in the world to love,
and here I hold my hands before the flames until it is hot and then kiss
the heat, and by the stream I kiss my wetted hands. And if I were to
remain here until this life became unendurable I should consider as to
which one of these two lovers I should give myself. This one I think is
too ardent in his love--it would be terrible to be wrapped round in his
fiery arms and feel his fiery mouth on mine.
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