There were, however, plenty of things to attend to before they could set off. In a village like this, many items necessary for their journey -- blankets, water flasks, tinder -- were communally owned and securing their use required much bargaining with neighbours. Moreover, Axl and Beatrice, advanced though they were in years, had their burden of daily duties and could not simply go away without the consent of the community. And even when they were finally ready to leave, a turn in the weather delayed them further. For what was the point of risking the hazards of fog, rain and cold when sunshine was surely just around the corner?

But they did eventually set off, with walking sticks and bundles on their backs, on a bright morning of wispy white clouds and a strong breeze. Axl had wished to start at first light -- it was clear to him the day would be fine -- but Beatrice had insisted on waiting till the sun was higher. The Saxon village where they would shelter the first night, she argued, was easily within a day's walk, and surely their priority was to cross the corner of the Great Plain as close to noon as possible, when the dark forces of that place were most likely to be dormant.

In the days before their journey's start, Beatrice had grown increasingly confident of remembering their route, at least as far as the Saxon village which she had regularly visited with the other women over the years. But once they lost sight of the craggy hills above their settlement, and had crossed the valley beyond the marshland, she became less certain. At a fork in a path, or facing a windswept field, she would pause and stand for a long time, panic creeping into her gaze as she surveyed the land.

It had been a while since they had walked any distance together, and Axl had been anxious about his wife's stamina. But after an hour he found himself reassured: though her pace was slow -- he noticed again something lop-sided about her gait, as if she were cushioning some pain -- Beatrice kept moving on steadily, head down into the wind in open land, undaunted when confronted by thistles and undergrowth. On uphills, or ground so muddy it was an effort to pull one foot out after the other, she would slow right down, but keep pushing on.

"But Axl," she would say, turning to him, "we don't have time. We must cross the Great Plain at noon if we're to do so in safety."

"Don't worry, princess," Axl would say on such occasions. "Don't worry and take all the time you need."

"We'll be there in good time, princess. You take all the time you need."

I might point out here that navigation in open country was something much more difficult in those days, and not just because of the lack of reliable compasses and maps. We did not yet have the hedgerows that so pleasantly divide the countryside today into field, lane and meadow. A traveller of that time would, often as not, find himself in featureless landscape, the view almost identical whichever way he turned. A row of standing stones on the far horizon, a turn of a stream, the particular rise and fall of a valley: such clues were the only means of charting a course. And the consequences of a wrong turn could often prove fatal. Never mind the possibilities of perishing in bad weather: straying off course meant exposing oneself more than ever to the risk of assailants -- human, animal or supernatural -- lurking away from the established roads.

You might have been surprised by how little they conversed as they walked, this couple usually so full of things to tell each other. But at a time when a broken ankle or an infected graze could be lifethreatening, there was a recognition that concentration was desirable at each and every step. You might also have noted that whenever the path grew too narrow to walk side by side, it was always Beatrice, not Axl, who went in front. This too might surprise you, it seeming more natural for the man to go first into potentially hazardous terrain, and sure enough, in woodland or where there was the possibility of wolves or bears, they would switch positions without discussion. But for the most part, Axl would make sure his wife went first, for the reason that practically every fiend or evil spirit they were likely to encounter was known to target its prey at the rear of a party -- in much the way, I suppose, a big cat will stalk an antelope at the back of the herd. There were numerous instances of a traveller glancing back to the companion walking behind, only to find the latter vanished without trace. It was the fear of such an occurrence that compelled Beatrice intermittently to ask as they walked: "Are you still there, Axl?" To which he would answer routinely: "Still here, princess."

"It may be a good sky, Axl," she said. "And I've not heard of any wickedness befalling a person in this corner of the plain. All the same, better wait for noon, when surely no demon will care even to peek out to see us pass."

"We'll wait, just as you say, princess. And you're right, this is the Great Plain after all, even if it's a benevolent corner of it."

They reached the edge of the Great Plain by late morning. Axl suggested they push on and put the hazard behind them, but Beatrice was adamant they should wait till noon. They sat down on a rock at the top of the hillslope leading down to the plain, and watched carefully the shortening shadows of their sticks, held upright before them in the earth.

"When we see our son, Axl, he's sure to insist we live at his village. Won't it be strange to leave our neighbours after these years, even if they're sometimes teasing our grey hairs?"

They sat there like that for a little while, looking down at the land before them, hardly speaking. At one point Beatrice said:

"At least you saw him, princess, even if in a dream. What did he look like?"

"I don't recall his face now at all," Axl said. "It must all be the work of this mist. Many things I'll happily let go to it, but it's cruel when we can't remember a precious thing like that."

She moved closer to him, letting her head fall on his shoulder. The wind was now beating hard at them and part of her cloak had come loose. Putting an arm around her, Axl trapped the cloak and held it tightly to her.

"Nothing's decided yet, princess. We'll talk everything over with our son when we see him." Axl went on gazing out at the Great Plain. Then he shook his head and said quietly: "It's odd, the way I can't recall him at all just now."

"I thought I dreamt about him last night," Beatrice said. "Standing by a well, and turning, just a little to one side, and calling to someone. What came before or after's gone now."

"A strong, handsome face, that much I remember. But the colour of his eyes, the turn of his cheek, I've no memory of them."

Beatrice straightened and began rummaging in her bundle. "Here, we'll carry these."

"Well, I dare say one or the other of us will remember soon enough," he said.

"Put them in your belt, Axl, and take care to keep the markings facing out. It will help the Lord Christ keep us safe. I'll carry these others."

"Let's try, Axl. Let's both of us try. It's as if we've mislaid a precious stone. But surely we'll find it again if we both try."

"Surely we will, princess. But look, the shadows are almost gone. It's time for us to go down."

"One will be enough for me, princess."

"No, Axl, we'll share them equally. Now what I remember is there's a path to follow down there and unless rain's washed it away the walking will be easier than most of what we've had. But there's one place we need to be cautious. Axl, are you listening to me? It's when the path goes over where the giant is buried. To one who doesn't know it, it's an ordinary hill, but I'll signal to you and when you see me you're to follow off the path and round the edge of the hill till we meet the same path on its way down. It'll do us no good treading over such a grave, high noon or not. Are you fully understanding me, Axl?"

She handed to him what looked like two smooth pebbles, but when he studied them he saw complex patterns cut into the face of each one.

"Don't worry, princess, I understand you very well."

"I'm no fool, princess."

"And I don't need to remind you. If we see a stranger on our path, or calling us from nearby, or any poor animal caught in a trap or injured in a ditch, or any such thing might catch your attention, you don't speak a word or slow your step for it."

As Beatrice had promised, they were required to walk on the Great Plain for only a short distance. Their path, though muddy at times, remained defined and never took them out of sunlight. After an initial descent it climbed steadily, till they found themselves walking along a high ridge, moorland on either side of them. The wind was fierce, but if anything a welcome antidote to the noon sun. The ground everywhere was covered in heather and gorse, never more than knee high, and only occasionally did a tree come into view -- some solitary, crone-like specimen, bowed by endless gales. Then a valley appeared to their right, reminding them of the power and mystery of the Great Plain, and that they were now trespassing on but a small corner of it.

"Well, then, Axl, it's time we went."

They walked close together, Axl almost at his wife's heels. Even so, throughout the crossing, Beatrice continued every five or six steps to chant, in the manner of a litany, the question: "Are you still there, Axl?" to which he would respond: "Still here, princess." Aside from this ritualistic exchange, they said nothing. Even when they reached the giant's burial mound, and Beatrice made urgent signs for them to move from the path into the heather, they kept up this call and response in level tones, as though wishing to deceive any listening demons about their intentions. All the while Axl watched for fast-moving mist or sudden darkenings in the sky, but there came no hint of either, and then they had put the Great Plain behind them. As they climbed through a small wood full of songbirds, Beatrice made no comment, but he could see her whole posture relax, and her refrain came to an end.

They rested beside a brook, where they bathed their feet, ate bread and refilled their flasks. From this point their route followed a long sunken lane from Roman days, lined by oaks and elms, which was much easier walking, but required vigilance on account of the other wayfarers they were bound to meet. And sure enough, during the first hour, they encountered coming the other way a woman with her two children, a boy driving donkeys, and a pair of travelling players hurrying to rejoin their troupe. On each occasion they stopped to exchange pleasantries, but another time, hearing the clatter of approaching wheels and hooves, they hid themselves in the ditch. This too proved harmless -- a Saxon farmer with a horse and cart piled high with firewood.

Toward mid-afternoon the sky began to cloud as though for a storm. They had been resting beneath a large oak, their backs to the road and hidden from the passing traffic. A clean sweep of land lay visible before them, so they had noticed immediately the coming change.

But Beatrice was on her feet, leaning forward, a hand raised to shield her eyes. "I can see the road ahead curving into the distance, Axl. And I see it's not far to the old villa. I took shelter there once before when I came with the women. A ruin, but the roof was still good then."

"Don't worry, princess," Axl said. "We'll stay dry beneath this tree until the sun returns."

"Can we reach it before the storm breaks, princess?"

"Then let's hurry. There's no reason to catch our deaths from a drenching. And this tree, now I'm looking at it, is full of holes the way I can see most of the sky above me."

The ruined villa was further from the road than Beatrice remembered. With the first drops of rain and the sky darkening above them, they found themselves struggling down a long narrow path waist high with nettles through which they had to beat their way with their sticks. Though it had been clearly visible from the road, the ruin was obscured for much of this approach by trees and foliage, so that it was with a start, as well as relief, that the travellers suddenly found themselves before it.

"We'll reach it if we go now."

Still there was silence and they went in under the arch into the shade of what must once have been a corridor. They emerged into the grey light of a spacious room, though here too, an entire wall had fallen away. The adjoining room had disappeared altogether, and evergreens were pressing in oppressively right up to the edge of the floor. The three standing walls, however, provided a sheltered area, with a good ceiling. Here, against the grimy masonry of what once had been whitewashed walls, were two dark figures, one standing, the other sitting, some distance apart.

The villa must have been splendid enough in Roman days, but now only a small section was standing. Once magnificent floors lay exposed to the elements, disfigured by stagnant puddles, weeds and grass sprouting through the faded tiles. The remains of walls, in places barely ankle high, revealed the old layout of the rooms. A stone arch led into the surviving part of the building, and Axl and Beatrice now moved cautiously towards it, pausing at the threshold to listen. Eventually Axl called out: "Is anyone within?" And when there was no reply: "We're two elderly Britons seeking shelter from the storm. We come in peace."

Seated on a piece of fallen masonry was a small, bird-like old woman -- older than Axl and Beatrice -- in a dark cloak, the hood pushed back enough to reveal her leathery features. Her eyes were sunk deep so that you could hardly see them. The curve of her back was not quite touching the wall behind her. Something stirred on her lap and Axl saw it was a rabbit, held tightly in her bony hands.

At the furthest point along the same wall, as though he had moved as far from the old woman as possible while keeping under cover, was a thin, unusually tall man. He wore a thick long coat of the sort a shepherd might wear during a cold night's watch, but where it ended, the exposed lower parts of his legs were bare. On his feet were the kind of shoes Axl had seen on fishermen. Though he was probably still young, the top of his head was smoothly bald, while dark tufts sprouted around his ears. The man was standing rigidly, his back to the room, one hand on the wall before him as though listening intently to something occurring on the other side. He glanced over his shoulder as Axl and Beatrice came in, but said nothing. The old woman too was staring at them in silence and only when Axl said: "Peace be with you," did they unfreeze a little. The tall man said: "Come in further, friends, or you will not stay dry."

"God be with you, cousins. You'll forgive me not greeting you earlier, but I was surprised to see you here. You'll know you're welcome nonetheless. A fine day for travelling until this storm came. But it's the kind that vanishes as suddenly as it appears. Your journey won't be long delayed and all the better for your taking a rest. Which way do you go, cousins?"

Sure enough, the sky had truly opened now and rainwater was running down some section of broken roof and splashing on the floor near where the visitors were standing. Thanking him, Axl led his wife to the wall, choosing a spot midway between their hosts. He helped Beatrice take off her bundle, then put his own down onto the ground.

Then as the downpour settled to a steady fall, the bird-like old woman finally broke the silence. Stroking her rabbit with one hand while clutching it tightly in the other, she said:

Then the four of them remained like that for some time while the storm grew ever more fierce, and a flash of lightning illuminated the shelter. The oddly frozen stances of the tall man and the old woman seemed to cast a spell on Axl and Beatrice, for now they too remained as still and silent. It was almost as if, coming across a picture and stepping inside it, they had been compelled to become painted figures in their turn.

"Saxons have their wild ways," the old woman said. "But they'll welcome a traveller more readily than do our own kind. Be seated, cousins. That log behind you is dry and I've often sat contentedly on it."

"We're on our way to our son's village," Axl said, "where he waits anxiously to welcome us. But tonight we'll seek shelter at a Saxon village we hope to reach by nightfall."

Axl and Beatrice did as suggested, and then there was silence for a few further moments while the rain continued to beat down. Eventually a movement from the old woman made Axl glance towards her. She was pulling back the rabbit's ears, and as the animal struggled to free itself, her claw-like hand kept it firmly in its grasp. Then, as Axl watched, the old woman produced in her other hand a large rusted knife and placed it against the creature's throat. As Beatrice beside him started, Axl realised that the dark patches beneath their feet, and elsewhere all over the ruined floor, were old bloodstains, and that mingled with the smell of ivy and damp mouldering stone was another faint but lingering one of slaughter.

"Good mistress," Axl said, "kill the rabbit if you must. But break its neck cleanly. Or else take a stone and give it a good blow."

At last the tall man turned to face them. "Friends," he said, "I was surprised to see you enter earlier, but now I'm glad. For I see you're good people, and I beg you, while you wait for this storm to pass, listen to my plight. I'm a humble boatman who ferries travellers across choppy waters. I don't mind the work though the hours are long and when there are many waiting to cross there's little sleep and my limbs ache with each thrust of the oar. I work through rain and wind and under the parching sun. But I keep my spirits up looking forward to my rest days. For I'm but one of several boatmen and we're each able to take our turn to rest, if only after long weeks of labour. On our rest days, we each have a special place to go, and this, friends, is mine. This house where I was once a carefree child. It's not as it once was, but for me it's filled with precious memories, and I come here asking only the quiet to enjoy them. Now consider this. Whenever I come here, within an hour of my arrival, this old woman will enter through that arch. She'll sit herself down and taunt me hour by hour, night and day. She'll make cruel and unjust accusations. Under cover of dark, she'll curse me with the most horrible curses. She will not give me a moment's respite. Sometimes, as you see, she'll bring with her a rabbit, or some such small creature, so she can slay it and pollute this precious place with its blood. I've done all I can to persuade her to leave me, but what pity God placed in her soul, she has learnt to ignore. She will not go, nor will she cease to taunt. Even now it's only your unexpected entrance that has caused her to pause in her persecution. And before long it will be time to begin my journey back, to more long weeks of toil on the water. Friends, I beg you, do what you can to make her leave. Persuade her that her behaviour is ungodly. You may have influence on her, being as you are from the outside."

Having placed her knife to the rabbit's throat, the old woman became quite still again. Her sunken eyes, Axl realised, were fixed on the tall man at the far end of the wall, as though she were waiting for a signal from him. But the man remained in the same rigid posture as before, his forehead almost touching the wall. He either had not noticed the old woman or else was determined to ignore her.

"Then I'll gladly assist you. There's no need for your knife." Axl rose to his feet, holding out his hand, but the old woman made no move to give up the rabbit. She remained exactly as before, the knife on the animal's throat, her gaze fixed on the man across the room.

"Had I the strength, sir, but I'm too weak. I have a knife with a sharp edge and that is all."

There was a silence after the boatman stopped talking. Axl remembered later feeling a vague compulsion to reply, but at the same time a sense that the man had spoken to him in a dream and that there was no real obligation to do so. Beatrice too seemed to feel no urge to respond, for her eyes remained on the old woman, who had now taken the knife away from the rabbit's throat, and was stroking its fur, almost affectionately, with the edge of the blade. Eventually Beatrice said:

"Let's not be hasty to speak harshly to this lady, princess," Axl said gently. "We don't know what has occurred between these people. This boatman seems honest, but then again, this lady may have just cause to come here and spend her time as she does."

"Mistress, I beg you, allow my husband to assist with your rabbit. There's no call to spill blood in a place such as this, and no basin to catch it. You'll bring bad luck not only to this honest boatman but to yourself and all other travellers who stray in here seeking shelter. Put that knife away and slaughter the creature gently elsewhere. And what good can come of taunting this man as you do, a hard-working boatman?"

"You couldn't have spoken more aptly, sir," the old woman said. "Do I think this a charming way to spend my fading days? I'd rather be far from here, in the company of my own husband, and it's because of this boatman I'm now parted from him. My husband was a wise and careful man, sir, and we planned our journey for a long time, talked of it and dreamt of it over many years. And when finally we were ready, and had all we needed, we set off on the road and after several days found the cove from where we could cross to the island. We waited for the ferryman, and in time, saw his boat coming towards us. But as luck would have it, it was this very man here who came to us. See how tall he is. Standing on his boat on the water, against the sky with his long oar, he looked as tall and thin as those players do when they hobble on their stilts. He came to where my husband and I were standing on the rocks and tied his boat. And to this day I don't know how he did it, but somehow he tricked us. We were too trusting. With the island so near, this boatman took away my husband and left me waiting on the shore, after forty years and more of our being husband and wife and hardly a day apart. I can't think how he did it. His voice must have put us in a dream, because before I knew it he was rowing off with my husband and I was still on land. Even then, I didn't believe it. For who could suspect such cruelty from a boatman? So I waited. I said to myself, it's simply that the boat cannot take more than one passenger at a time, for the water was unsettled that day, and the sky almost as dark as it is now. I stood there on the rock and watched the boat getting smaller and then a speck. And still I waited, and in time the speck grew larger and it was the boatman coming back to me. I could soon see his head as smooth as a pebble, now with no passenger left in his boat. And I imagined it was my turn and I would soon be with my beloved again. But when he came to where I was waiting, and tied his rope to the pole, he shook his head and refused to take me across. I argued and wept and called to him, but he would not listen. Instead he offered me -- such cruelty!-- he offered a rabbit he said had been caught in a trap on the island's shore. He'd brought it to me thinking it a fitting supper for my first evening of solitude. Then seeing there was no one else waiting to be ferried, he pushed away, leaving me weeping on the shore, holding his wretched rabbit. I let it run off into the heather a moment later, for I tell you I had little appetite that evening or for many evenings after. That's why it is I bring him my own little gift each time I come here. A rabbit for his stew in return for his kindness that day."

"The rabbit was intended for my own supper that evening," the boatman's voice broke in from across the room. "Feeling pity, I gave it to her. It was simple kindness."

"Good lady, the island this old woman speaks of is no ordinary one. We boatmen have ferried many there over the years, and by now there will be hundreds inhabiting its fields and woods. But it's a place of strange qualities, and one who arrives there will walk among its greenery and trees in solitude, never seeing another soul. Occasionally on a moonlit night or when a storm's ready to break, he may sense the presence of his fellow inhabitants. But most days, for each traveller, it's as though he's the island's only resident. I'd happily have ferried this woman, but when she understood she wouldn't be with her husband, she declared she didn't care for such solitude and refused to go. I bowed to her decision, as I'm obliged to do, and let her go her own way. The rabbit, as I say, I gave her out of simple kindness. You see how she thanks me for it."

"We know nothing of your affairs, sir," Beatrice said. "But it does seem a cruel deception to leave this lady alone on the shore that way. What was it made you do such a thing?"

"This boatman is a sly one," the old woman said. "He'll dare to deceive you, even though you're from the outside. He'll have you believe every soul roams that island in solitude, but it isn't true. Would my husband and I have dreamt long years to go to a place like that? The truth is there's many permitted to cross the water as wedded man and wife to dwell together on the island. Many who roam those same forests and quiet beaches arm in arm. My husband and I knew this. We knew it as children. Good cousins, if you search through your own memories, you'll remember it to be true even as I speak of it now. We had little inkling as we waited in that cove how cruel a boatman would come over the water to us."

"There's truth in just one part of what she says," the boatman said. "Occasionally a couple may be permitted to cross to the island together, but this is rare. It requires an unusually strong bond of love between them. It does sometimes occur, I don't deny, and that's why when we find a man and wife, or even unmarried lovers, waiting to be carried over, it's our duty to question them carefully. For it falls to us to perceive if their bond is strong enough to cross together. This lady is reluctant to accept it, but her bond with her husband was simply too weak. Let her look into her heart, then dare say my judgement that day was in error."

The old woman remained silent. She kept her eyes lowered, and went on running the blade sulkily over the rabbit's fur.

"Mistress," Beatrice said. "What do you say?"

"Mistress," Axl said, "once the rain stops, we'll be returning to the road. Why not leave this place with us? We'll gladly walk with you some of your way. We could talk at leisure about whatever pleases you. Leave this good boatman in peace to enjoy what remains of this house while it stands. What's to be gained sitting here like this? And if you wish it, I'll kill the rabbit cleanly before our paths part. What do you say?"

The old woman gave no reply, nor any indication of having heard Axl's words. After some time, she rose slowly to her feet, the rabbit held closely to her chest. The woman was tiny in stature and her cloak dragged along the floor as she made her way to the broken side of the room. Some water splashed onto her from a section of the ceiling, but she seemed not to care. When she had reached the far end of the floor, she looked out at the rain and the encroaching greenery. Then bending slowly, she set the rabbit down near her feet. The animal, perhaps stiff with fear, did not move at first. Then it vanished into the grass.

The old woman straightened herself carefully. When she turned she appeared to be looking at the boatman -- her strangely sunken eyes made it hard to be certain -- then said: "These strangers have taken away my appetite. But it will return, I've no doubt."

With that she lifted the hem of her cloak and stepped slowly down into the grass like one easing herself into a pool. The rain fell on her steadily, and she pulled her hood further over her head before taking her next steps into the tall nettles.

"Wait a few moments and we'll walk with you," Axl called after her. But he felt Beatrice's hand on his arm and heard her whisper: "Best not meddle with her, Axl. Let her go."

When Axl walked over to where the old woman had stepped down, he half expected to see her somewhere, impeded by the foliage and unable to go on. But there was now no sign of her.

"Thank you, friends," the boatman said behind him. "Perhaps for this day at least, I shall be allowed peace to remember my childhood."

"We too will be out of your way, boatman," said Axl. "Just as soon as this lets up."

"Oh, it was, good lady. When I was a boy, I didn't know just how splendid, for it was all I knew. There were fine pictures and treasures, kind and wise servants. Just through there was the banqueting hall."

Axl went on staring at the rain. He heard his wife say behind him: "This must once have been a splendid house, sir."

"It must sadden you to see it like this, sir."

"No hurry, friends. You spoke judiciously and I thank you for it."

"I'm simply grateful, good lady, it still stands as it does. For this house has witnessed days of war, when many others like it were burnt to the ground and are no more now than a mound or two beneath grass and heather."

Then Axl heard Beatrice's footsteps coming towards him and felt her hand on his shoulder. "What is it, Axl?" she asked, her voice lowered. "You're troubled, I can see it."

"What manner of things, Axl?"

"I don't know, princess. When the man speaks of wars and burning houses, it's almost as if something comes back to me. From the days before I knew you, it must be."

"It's nothing, princess. It's just this ruin here. For a moment it was as if I were the one remembering things here."

She was looking at him thoughtfully. Then she squeezed his hand and said quietly: "This is a queer place indeed and may bring us more harm than the rain ever could. I'm anxious to leave it, Axl. Before that woman returns or something worse."

They thanked him again, and were proceeding through the arch when Beatrice suddenly stopped and looked back.

"Was there ever a time before we knew one another, Axl? Sometimes I feel we must have been together since we were babes."

"It seems that way to me too, princess. It's just some foolishness coming over me in this strange place."

Axl nodded. Then turning, he called across the room: "Well, boatman, the sky looks to be clearing so we'll be on our way. Many thanks for allowing us shelter."

"Since we're leaving you, sir," she said, "and may not meet with you again, I wonder if you'll allow me a small question."

The boatman said nothing to this, but as they were putting on their bundles, he came to assist them, handing them their walking sticks. "A safe journey, friends," he said. "May you find your son in good health."

The boatman, standing at his spot by the wall, was watching her carefully.

"You spoke earlier, sir," Beatrice went on, "of your duty to question a couple waiting to cross the water. You spoke of the need to discover if their bond of love is such as to allow them to dwell together on the island. Well, sir, I was wondering this. How do you question them to discover what you must?"

For a moment the boatman seemed uncertain. Then he said: "Frankly, good lady, it's not for me to talk of such matters. Indeed, we shouldn't by rights have met today, but some curious chance brought us together and I'm not sorry for it. You were both kind and took my part and for that I'm grateful. So I will answer you as best I can. It is, as you say, my duty to question all who wish to cross to the island. If it's a couple such as you speak of, who claim their bond is so strong, then I must ask them to put their most cherished memories before me. I'll ask one, then the other to do this. Each must speak separately. In this way the real nature of their bond is soon revealed."

"I thank you for it, boatman. It's just to satisfy an old woman's curiosity. Now we'll leave you in peace."

"May you have a safe journey."

"That's true, good lady, but then we boatmen have seen so many over the years it doesn't take us long to see beyond deceptions. Besides, when travellers speak of their most cherished memories, it's impossible for them to disguise the truth. A couple may claim to be bonded by love, but we boatmen may see instead resentment, anger, even hatred. Or a great barrenness. Sometimes a fear of loneliness and nothing more. Abiding love that has endured the years -- that we see only rarely. When we do, we're only too glad to ferry the couple together. Good lady, I've already said more than I should."

"But isn't it hard, sir," Beatrice asked, "to see what truly lies in people's hearts? Appearances deceive so easily."

They retraced their steps along the path they had beaten earlier through the ferns and nettles. The storm had made the ground underneath treacherous, so for all their anxiety to put the villa behind them, they proceeded at a careful pace. When they finally reached the sunken lane, the rain still had not ceased, and they took shelter under the first large tree they could find.

"Are you soaked through, princess?"

"Don't worry, Axl. This coat did its work. How is it with you?"

"Axl, I feel afraid."

"Nothing the sun won't soon dry when it returns."

They put down their bundles and leant against the trunk, recovering their breaths. After a while, Beatrice said quietly:

"Why, what is it, princess? No harm can come to you now."

"Do you remember the strange woman in dark rags you watched me talking to up by the old thorn that day? She may have looked a mad wanderer, but the story she told had much in common with the old woman's just now. Her husband too had been taken by a boatman and she left behind on the shore. And when she was coming back from the cove, weeping for loneliness, she found herself crossing the edge of a high valley, and she could see the path a long way before and a long way behind, and all along it people weeping just like her. When I heard this I was only partly afraid, saying to myself it was nothing to do with us, Axl. But she went on speaking, about how this land had become cursed with a mist of forgetfulness, a thing we've remarked on often enough ourselves. And then she asked me: 'How will you and your husband prove your love for each other when you can't remember the past you've shared?' And I've been thinking about it ever since. Sometimes I think of it and it makes me so afraid."

"But what's to fear, princess? We've no plans to go to any such island or any desire to do so."

"What are you saying, princess? How can our love wither? Isn't it stronger now than when we were foolish young lovers?"

"Even so, Axl. What if our love withers before we've a chance even to think of going to such a place?"

"But Axl, we can't even remember those days. Or any of the years between. We don't remember our fierce quarrels or the small moments we enjoyed and treasured. We don't remember our son or why he's away from us."

"I do, Axl. But then again I wonder if what we feel in our hearts today isn't like these raindrops still falling on us from the soaked leaves above, even though the sky itself long stopped raining. I'm wondering if without our memories, there's nothing for it but for our love to fade and die."

"We can make all those memories come back, princess. Besides, the feeling in my heart for you will be there just the same, no matter what I remember or forget. Don't you feel the same, princess?"

"Forget him, princess. What do we want with his boat, or his island come to that? And you're right, the rain's stopped out there and we'll be drier stepping out from under this tree. Let's be on our way, and no more of these worries."

"The day I spoke with her by the old thorn," Beatrice continued, "the strange woman warned me to waste no more time. She said we had to do all we could to remember what we've shared, the good and the bad. And now that boatman, when we were leaving, gives the very answer I expected and feared. What chance do we have, Axl, the way we are now? If someone like that asked of us our most treasured memories? Axl, I'm so afraid."

"God wouldn't allow such a thing, princess." Axl said this quietly, almost under his breath, for he had himself felt an unnamed fear welling up within him.

"I hope so. That boatman's words have made me all the more afraid."

"There, princess, there's nothing to fear. Our memories aren't gone for ever, just mislaid somewhere on account of this wretched mist. We'll find them again, one by one if we have to. Isn't that why we're on this journey? Once our son's standing before us, many things are sure to start coming back."