Everything for the wedding is in place. A crowd has gathered behind the church at the outside altar. Two tiny flower girls are closest to the altar while the crowd waits in lines between rows of folding chairs. Nathan waits near the altar. Monica waits in a carriage house where no one can see her. But she stares out a window. Where is the bard? Everyone else seems to be here, but he is nowhere. Of all the people on the planet that she thought she could count on she would have bet her life on the bard. She is sure she will faint if he does not show up. She stares forlornly.

She has already had every thought about the changes in her life that are about to take place. She is not happy with many but feels totally unable to change anything. She made a decision. She must bear the consequences. As she stares she notices a stranger. He has gray hair cut short and no facial hair at all. He is wearing an expensive looking black suit with shiny boots and a straight brimmed hat that hides his face. Behind him, tied a few paces away, is a black stallion with a fancy saddle and bridle trimmed in silver. He hangs on the edge of the crowd.

She hears the music begin. For a moment it feels like The Executionerīs Song. She is trembling so badly that she must lean on her fatherīs arm as they start up the path. But all she can think of is the bard, her dream protector, her savior. Where is he? She couldnīt feel worse if Nathan was not here. Actually, she would feel better if he was not here. She leads the procession up the isle. She looks beautiful in her white dress, her garland of daisies in her hair with a butterfly, a Monarch that everyone thinks is dead. But it is her pet. It gives her some reassurance. When she gets near the alter she looks at Nathan. He is beaming. He looks so proud of her, not with the lust he had when he used to look at her. And she does feel proud too. She is about to be married. The feeling of failure is gone. Just as she passes the stranger he turns and lifts his hat. She stares into those twinkling pale blue eyes and almost faints. It is the bard!

Now her heart is beating out of her chest. He is a new man. He looks twenty years younger without the beard and the flowing hair. All she can think about is the snapshot of his new look face with those twinkling pale blue eyes. Yes, he is here for me! she sings inside. Whatever happens, her bard, her fantasy, her dream protector is here!

She barely hears the ceremony words. She looks blankly at Nathan as she whispers I do. Then they rush to their buggy as they are showered with rice Monica sits prettily at her stall. Her father manīs the booth so that she can sit and pose in her wedding dress. She is often called to rise to thank someone for another gift. They are mostly small things, a candle, specialty food stuffs, towels, pillow cases with fancy embroidery. She is surely enjoying her special day and she smiles at Nathan often. He is not so lucky. His father was going to man the stall but became ill that morning. He beats on wrought iron but his eyes dart often to the stranger. To everyone but Monica he is still a stranger. He has kept his hat low so that nobody has looked into his eyes. Rumor has it that it is the bardīs brother. No one is quite sure what to think except Monica. For her the bard sitting there is totally reassuring. Nothing can go wrong when her dream protector is there. She gives him a demure look now and then, and he winks back if no one is looking. Monica is resigned to her life. She will make the best of it. The bard helped turn Nathan into a respectable husband. Now he smiles at her as he bangs away. But he keeps his eye on the stranger. Something about him unsettles Nathan as it has unsettled the entire market. Besides the brother rumor there is a the gun slinger rumor, and the card shark rumor and on and on. Monicaīs biggest question is why he didnīt change earlier. He looks so young and handsome, but alas, so unbardlike. Besides, it wouldnīt have mattered how young he looked, everyone knew when he turned forty. It is a right of passage for men, like turning sixteen is for boys. Nathan has the dropsies. Between his sleepless night before marriage, and his constant glances at his beautiful wife, the stranger has him totally on edge. He just canīt think straight. Monica has just glanced at her bard, her protector. She will close her eyes tonight as her husband has his way with her, and she will fantasize those soft blue eyes and it will lighten her heart, let her enjoy what she will make believe he is doing to her. She sees motion. Sparks have blown into Nathanīs face and she watches as he stumbles backward. Then she hears a horse whinny and cries from the crowd. There is a stunned silence, then everyone is running toward the rig.

. She rises in panic. Something terrible has happened. People are shouting and running. She leaps up and runs too, to the street where a crowd has gathered. Thankfully the bard is beside her as her eyes widen in horror. There is Nathan lying in the street, staring blankly at the sky, his eyes bulged horribly. The wagon ran over his neck. Her new husband is dead. She runs to him and buries her face on his breathless chest, sobbing inconsolably. She has become a widow on the day of her marriage. Only the warm spot where the bardīs arm hangs over her has feeling. The arm of her protector is there.

Monica is dressed in black as she sells her custard. It is required that a widow wear black for six months while she is in mourning. It is also a sign that she is not eligible for new suitors or remarriage until her mourning period is over. It has now been over four months since the tragedy and the weather is raw and cold. She is bundled tightly against the wind. But in her heart she is warm. Her bard sits beside her. Only he or the clergy or her father and other relatives are allowed to comfort her. But the bard, even clean shaven and unbardlike, can be her friend and comforter. And although he has not asked, for that would not be proper during her mourning, she knows that now that she is a widow he can be her suitor. Now she is eligible to marry her dream protector, the light of her heart, the love of her life. But she must remain somber. She can not let the song in her heart reach her face and turn it into a smile. She must be content to know that he is there and will always be for her. Of course he will, he is her dream protector. And soon the dream she had always wanted, that seemed so totally impossible once, will be hers. And it came to be because of her bard, her dream protector.

Page 1
Epilogue
BACK