From: Caroline@ardgrain.wintermute.co.uk (Caroline Ashbee)
Reply-To: Caroline@ardgrain.wintermute.co.uk
Newsgroups: rec.arts.erotica,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Subject: Hunting the Unicorn
Date: 13 Nov 1995 03:19:33 GMT
Organization: rec.arts.erotica immoderation
Message-ID: <486dg5$a1n@netaxs.com>

Archive-name: hunt-unicorn



Hunting the Unicorn



Caroline Ashbee





        At dawn on a Mayday morning the maidens came singing

to my chamber,  woke me, and led me naked to the bath. Then

vying with each other for the  honour and the good fortune

that followed from bathing the virgin, they  washed me,

purifying  my flesh  for the hunt, then towelled me dry

before the  fire. It was still dusk but the air was mild

with the breath of May. They dressed  me in a gauzy white

gown, the symbol of my virginity, plaited my hair, pinned

it up under the crisp wimple, and buckled up my sandals.

Though it was mild  and the fire was burning fiercely  the

gown gave no warmth and I was  shivering with the cold and

apprehensiveness: I was proud to have become the  chosen

one, fearful about what was to happen.



        Down below in the courtyard, the horses were

stamping and the bells jingling on harnesses, and there the

knightly escort was assembling. The grooms were calling to

one another. The sun was rising, still low, shining on the

sandstone walls, with long rays of honey-coloured light. The

grass in the courtyard, brilliant green in the yellow light,

was still dewy in sparkling patches where it remained

untrodden by the horses. The musicians were  assembling,

trying their instruments, tuning them, and then it was time

to go down. Surrounded by my maidens I walked slowly down

the stairs, into the hall, through the long bars of sunlight

and out through the massive studded doors into the

brightness of the courtyard. The king and queen looked out

from a balcony as the portcullis was cranked up and we began

the walk to the wild woods. The knights, in their flashing

plate armour and embroidered surcoats  carried lances with

pennons fluttering at their tips, and beside each knight,

riding on a mule, carrying the great shield with his

patron's arms, was an esquire. They formed two columns and

between them we walked. Behind us the musicians played sweet

music, and behind them in a decorated cart drawn by oxen

were the servants. And last of all came the huntsmen with

their hounds.



        When we were deep in the forest, the knights fell

back, except for one young virgin, newly knighted, all in

white, with white surcoat and furniture, with his esquire in

a white tabard, carrying a white shield, argent, with no

device. He was our escort for the last part of the journey.

We came out of the gloom into a clearing among the trees.

The servants unloaded the quilts and pillows and food and

wine. Then they left us. The musicians moved away but

stayed within earshot and we could hear them faintly

playing. My maidens spread the quilts and pillows and then

undressed me, leaving me naked but for the wimple covering

my hair. Then leaving me the cakes and the wine they too

withdrew. I lay among the quilts watching the birds, the

breeze stirring the leaves, hearing the hum of the insects

as the sun moved up the sky to noon and then began its slow

descent to the west. At first I was frightened that

something wild might find me and attack, but it was harder

and harder to believe and besides, the knights and the

huntsmen, though hidden, were nearby. Once in the distance,

remote, the memory of some nightmare recollected in safety,

I heard  some beast cry out, but perhaps it was just the

call of a bird. The musicians played on at the edge of my

hearing and I became bored. It was the late afternoon when

he appeared. I didn't really believe he would find me. He

approached so silently that I heard him only when he was

close. A rustle beside me and I turned and saw him, such

beauty, so white, with golden mane and beard, and such a

horn, so straight, blue-veined, marble-white, and crowned

with purple. And then he came and laid it in my lap, within

my lap, bliss slowly piercing me to the heart, his golden

head against my breast, and I had caught the unicorn and lay

holding him in my arms.



        Too soon I heard the horn-call and the distant

belling of the hounds. At first he did not understand. I

shooed at him but he would not leave me: it seemed to me

that he thought it was I who was in danger, and he meant to

protect me; but the huntsmen came galloping and he

understood. Then he ran. He was soon caught though, and the

hounds ripped his white flesh to pieces; and weeping I

understood my own complicity in his destruction.



        I had not known that the unicorn goes on two legs.





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Copyright (c) Caroline Ashbee 1995



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