Tristan arrived not in a ricketylittle raft like the monks did, but in a grand ocean-going ship. The entireisland had turned out to greet the ship which offered new supplies, if notfreely given, then under the threat of the blade in exchange for fresh water. Iwas surprised to see Tristan climb down onto the row boat to come ashore withthe landing party. I knew not whether to smile or run and hide. What was his purposein coming back to the site of my exile? My heart felt joyous as the torment ofloss lifted and it beat in time with his. He took me in his arms immediatelyand planted a kiss as though he had never meant to leave me. Tears ran down mycheeks and I fretted over what his return would mean to me. Would he leave meagain and plunge my heart back into the depths of depression and oblivion?Would he take me away with him this time; could we have a life together? Was hehere to kill me and break the blood-bond that must have tortured him asthoroughly as it had tortured me? I knew naught but questions and felt asthough they might drown me themselves. He said nothing, but his kiss told methat he had missed me dearly and I revelled in that physical admission. Hecarried me to the home we had built together, raised his eyebrows at the goatthat balanced on the stone wall nibbling to top most buds of the nettles fromhis perch, and then walked toward the door.
The door was nearly forced from its mounting as he chargedthe room and headed directly for the bed, his intention clear as it bulged athis front. He wore tights, a weird piece of apparel if there ever was one, butone that allowed me to appreciate the excitement of his manhood fully. Thingshad changed in the wider world in my absence and I felt a pang of loss for notknowing the state of affairs beyond this island.
He lifted my skirts, not waiting to remove my clothing atall and lowered his tights only enough to release the monster within them. Heplunged into me without the slightest hint of foreplay and had I not alreadybeen aroused by the view of those tights, I am sure his lack of considerationwould have hurt me; but from the moment he took me into his arms I was moistwith anticipation and he was able to pound into me thoroughly as though it hadbeen the full six months since he had found such release. I doubted it had beenthat long for him, and because of my need to gain blood, it certainly hadn’tfor me. It was different with Tristan though. He knew my body and he knew howto please me, and even as he thrust within my tender folds, he nibbled at thebase of my ear and scraped his fangs across my throat. Had I not felt his heartracing with mine, I might have feared this man who had still not spoken to mebut had forced his way within my loins without the slightest hesitation. Heleant backward and lifted me fully so that I was impaled upon his thrusting blade.I sat virtually in his lap as he pulled me hard down upon him, thrusting allthe way to the core of me it seemed. I felt more of him in this position andthough I was still more than a little overwhelmed by his sudden return, Iembraced the tightening of my groin that indicated the impending orgasm. Iarched back as it claimed me and then lent forward and bit into his throat. Ifelt his hot surge inside of me and then his fangs penetrate my own tanned skin.
I savoured every drop of his fruit-flavoured blood. It wasso sweet and fragrant and laced with the endorphins of sex. I could barelybelieve that he was here in my arms; and but for the radiant pleasure I felt, Iwould not have believed it to be true, but more of a dream. I knew not why hehad returned to me and daren’t ask in case he left me as quickly as he arrived.I placed my ear to his chest and listened as his heart beat its steady rhythmin time with mine. That beat, that had caused me such sadness for the pastseason, suddenly filled me with joy and reminded me of the love we had shared.
He stayed with me the rest of the day, making love andtelling me tales of the changing world and explaining to me the need to weartights, through the short night, and in the morning when his ship was ready tosail. He beckoned me to collect my most important belongings and took me to theship. We shared a small cabin. The pitch and roll of the ship on the oceanwaves kept me in a perpetual state of nausea. I tried to keep my stomach full,but failed time and again. I sat by the small window in our room and hoped fora salt-laden breeze to refresh me of my ills, but mostly I was greeted by thestench of what lay below decks. It wasn’t pleasant and I had no desire toexplore the lower half of the ship given the scent of fetid flesh, excrementand decay that rose from the hull. I welcomed the smell of fresh pitch, for thepowerful petroleum smell of it drowned out the less delicate perfume of thelower boat. On the deck the air was fresh and crisp, but the movement of theboat was almost overbearing and not long after I had been refreshed by theocean breeze, my stomach would surely turn and I would need to lean over therail and empty what little contents my stomach had managed to retain over theside. The water from Iceland towards our southern goal was chummed with myvomit: an unappealing mix of blood, apple, potato and fish. The older sailors(sea dogs they called themselves), lacked teeth and limbs thanks to the ravagesof scurvy. That was the price these men paid for their freedom upon the sea. Ihad no doubt that amongst the crew was a dangerous set of thieves and othercriminals. I never left the cabin unescorted by Tristan and I never sleptalone. He stayed by my side, and had the constant desire to vomit not remindedme of the dark future I was bound for, I would have enjoyed having him as aconstant tender presence in my life.
Tristan had indicated that we were sailing south to explorea new land south of the equator now that it had been established by Portugueseand Spanish sailors that it was impossible to sail off the ends of the ocean.It was a several month journey across the azure sea. We passed from the icywinds of Iceland to the warm tropics with its tepid seas and blistering sun,onward we journeyed crossing an expanse of uninterrupted ocean so boundless itleft the greatness of ancient Rome fallowing as insignificant as a mosquitoagainst a butterfly. On a few treasured occasions we would stop on a smallisland to take on fresh supplies. Tristan would take me ashore and let me reston the beach sand. I feared always that I would be exiled on one of thesesupply drops, here in the remoteness of the ocean, but after the crew hadcollected fresh water and local fruits, Tristan would take me back upon theship. I was weak and ill from the constant loss of my stomach contents and theoverwhelming nausea that claimed me in a constant barrage against my senses.For the duration of our sea voyage, Tristan was kind and considerate. He caredfor me and in the rare moments when my arousal for him outweighed the nausea,he made sweet love to me – although those moments were few and far between Ithoroughly enjoyed them. The crew, however, did not as it meant the sea wascalm and we were without wind. The doldrums were as calm as if we sat on landand it was only when we hit a pocket of such inactivity that the nauseadissipated and I could enjoy the view, enjoy the air, and enjoy Tristan’s bodyabove me and within me.
Although I had suspected it, I hadnot known for sure that I was being taken to a new place of exile.
“Land ho!” Cried the ratty sailor in the crow’s nest andpointed to the western horizon.
There was a great scramble of activity as the crewenthusiastically jumped into action. The rigging was altered to set us on acourse for the new land, previously uncharted on the Captain’s map. The Captainwas a Dutch man and we sailed aboard his Dutch ship toward a land so far southno-one had thought to look for it until now. The sea shallowed as we crossedonto the Continental Shelf and the land mass grew ever closer. My heart racedwith Tristan’s he knew something I didn’t and I didn’t like it. As we drew upas close to shore as the Captain dared, a group of ebony-skinned peoplecongregated upon the shore.
They seemed as unsure of us as we were of them. They weretall and thin and mostly naked. Their skin was so much darker than any I hadseen before and they stood together watching us in a manner that suggested asense of community. The children were held at the centre between the women, allof whom stood behind a line of men carrying long javelin-like spears. Theydidn’t seem threatened, but were cautious all the same. They sat on the shoreof their land, and we sat on the ship, watching them watching us.
As night fell and the stars began to shine brightly in theblack sky, I realised I was a very long way from home. I could not recognise asingle constellation above me. The only familiar sight was the moon startingits ascent above the horizon. I knew not where I was nor where I feared I wouldbe exiled by Tristan, for I was certain, the excitement he had felt earlier inthe day was a result of his having found a new isolated location to keep metrapped. The people on the shore lit a fire and sang in an unrecognisablelanguage beside its golden glow. They huddled together against the coolingnight air and pulled their wild-looking dogs in closely for extra warmth. Weweighed anchor under cover of darkness and slipped silently along the coastlineof this expansive land. We stayed off-shore for several days and looked up atgreat cliffs that bordered the sea for several more. Eventually, a smallersection of the landmass, far more appealing than the wide brown land we hadfirst encountered rocked lazily on the horizon as the ship approached. Thisarea had tall trees and looked infinitely more inviting than that which we hadobserved in recent days. Tristan’s heart beat at speed again and I suspected Iviewed my new exile.
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