Chapter 22.
It was following the Beltane celebrations,
As the valley turned from the fresh green and white of spring towards the abundance of midsummer,
It began to happen.
The first time was a complete mystery,
Which although sending shockwaves through the local community,
Was explained away by a variety of theories,
Ranging from marauding knights to acts of God,
But no one really understood what happened.
All they knew was that one of the Maidens of the Wells had disappeared,
And no one could find her.
Naturally,
It worried Rosenwin greatly.
By all accounts,
The Maiden had been about her usual duties the previous day,
Administering refreshments to passing travellers and giving advice and healing to those who sought it.
Everything appeared quite as usual,
The people of the next village unanimously agreed,
Until in the morning their Maiden was nowhere to be found.
On further investigation,
The earthenware cup she used each day for drawing water from the well was discovered lying broken in its watery depths,
But of the Maiden herself or her ceremonial silver chalice,
There was no sign.
Rosenwin tried hard to find out what happened,
But it appeared she had simply vanished into thin air.
Eventually,
Rosenwin asked Duncan his views as she came upon him fishing one afternoon.
On the surface,
He mused in his deep melodic voice as a small fish jumped for a fly hovering above the slow- flowing pool.
All seems as if it could be a single incident,
But beware what might be lurking in the depths.
He tugged hard on his line to reveal a huge trout,
Thrashing and wriggling in the sunlight,
Pulled it in,
Released it and allowed it to slide back into the water.
Why do you do that?
Asked Rosenwin,
Her thoughts taken from the question in hand for a moment.
Why not just catch them and eat them or not catch them at all?
It teaches me and it teaches them,
Replied Duncan.
It shows me what's in there and it shows them what's out here.
And he returned to his private musings.
Rosenwin left him then,
Wondering if he knew more than he was admitting or if he was simply speaking in riddles to hide the fact he knew no more than anyone else.
But he had been correct,
For not half a moon later a second maiden disappeared and shortly after a third.
Each disappearance followed the same pattern.
By now it was obvious some trickery was afoot.
All appeared normal with the maiden and her well in the evening,
Then next morning she was nowhere to be found,
Save for some small reminder she had ever existed at all.
Once a small posy of flowers on the pathway,
Another time a bunch of herbs abandoned a short distance away.
Rosenwin decided something must be done.
The question was what?
Once again she consulted Duncan and once again found him fishing by the river.
Where are they Duncan?
She asked as she sank down beside him on the grassy bank,
The scent of meadowsweet heavy in the air where her footsteps had crushed the flowers.
What has happened to my maidens?
Duncan gazed thoughtfully at the swelling water and shook his head sadly.
It is truly a bad thing which is happening,
He began.
But don't you know anything?
Rosenwin almost snapped in frustration.
Sometimes his slow manner irritated her beyond belief,
Although deep down she knew the wisdom of his words in whichever form he chose to deliver them.
Just remember,
He continued,
Things are not always lost forever.
Sometimes they simply can no longer be seen.
Which was all he would say despite Rosenwin's questions.
Truth be told it was all he knew himself.
Thoughts often rose to the surface of his mind,
Like the air bubbles from deep within the river which appeared with no explanation at all.
Where exactly they came from he had no idea.
His thoughts,
Like the bubbles,
Needed to be caught and collected before they too disappeared.
Now feeling the tug on his line once again and watching Rosenwin make her way back towards the chapel,
He was sorry he was unable to help her more.
But he also understood that things unfolded in their own good time.
Perhaps all any of them needed to do was watch and wait.
Justin's appearance in the valley shortly before the disappearance of the first maiden had caused some consternation amongst the villagers.
Yet it was not uncommon for travelers to pass through,
Not only on the trade route from the sea and the monastic island of Tintagel,
But also due to the relics of St.
Clodorus.
And so,
Although the little chapel continued to enjoy a steady stream of pilgrims,
There was an air of unrest.
A number of whispers were heard,
And perhaps because he did not move on like the others,
Fingers pointed in the general direction of Justin.
As he approached the chapel,
Justin experienced the now familiar feeling of coming home.
He had visited Rosenwin on a number of occasions since arriving at the valley,
The first of which was on the day of the Beltane fires,
Following the ceremony of the maidens.
It had been a busy morning,
And the procession a sight he would never forget.
The line of maidens followed by the villagers,
Wending their way along the path,
Accompanied by the beat of drums.
And when they had all left to enjoy the remainder of the day,
He tentatively approached the chapel himself.
Welcome to our sanctuary.
May I offer you some refreshment?
These were the words which Rosenwin spoke to pilgrims and travellers.
Indeed,
She had surely uttered them a thousand times.
Yet she felt as if this was the first,
And knew this night to be special.
She looked into his eyes,
Framed by the rich red of his hair,
And found a mixture of honesty,
Passion and humility there.
Lady,
I have travelled far to this place,
Began Justin,
Dropping onto one knee before her,
And I thank you for your offer of refreshment.
Rosenwin passed Justin her silver chalice,
Filled with crystal-clear water from the well,
And Justin knew the end of his quest was in sight.
And now,
With midsummer approaching,
Justin felt the unmistakable need to see Rosenwin,
His Lady of the Well,
Once again.
