The sun shone brutally on a landscape littered with massive boulders that provided sparse shadows for tufts of grass growing between and around the strewn, bleached rocks.

Wrapped in a checkered wool blanket, Evangeline sat perched on a window ledge of the disheveled Manor House, looking out over a stark, bone-chilling valley. Although the sun shone, the high altitude made the air cold and biting to the skin.

“Have you been waiting long?” A soothing male voice inquired as he closed the heavy oak door behind him and entered the room.

“No, only a few minutes.” Wrapping her shoulders tightly in her blanket, she slipped from the ledge and closed the window behind her “and how was your tournament?” she asked, as she crossed the room to greet him.

The Chevalier reached out for her hand and kissed each palm, before replying with a contented smile, “Successful.” He gazed deeply into his lover’s green eyes. Liquid pools of sereneness immersed him in their depth, providing warmth to his bones, chilled from the long, solitary ride through bleak mountain terrain.

“I am happy that you won back the herald shield.”

As if to punctuate her approval, a gust of wind blew in through the unlatched windows. The Chevalier rushed to close them. He turned back to Evangeline. “Shall we dine now?”

“Yes, of course.” Placing her hands against his chest she stretched upwards on her toes and kissed the Chevalier lightly on his ruddy cheek, “wait here for me while I dress.”

Evangeline went to her dressing room, minutes later emerged gowned in a floor length emerald green shift whose long sleeves and hemline was trimmed in ermine. A Mobcap covered her flaming hair. Designed and woven out of delicate silver and lace the cap draped against her shoulders and framed her beautiful face that reached its final decade.

The Chevalier extended his arm to Evangeline. “My dear, you look ravishing.”

A brief smile graced her lips, “Remember you told me that love makes you beautiful. You still see me as I was when first we met, some forty years ago. Come, my dear, let us dine.”

As they exited the tower room, she gently pulled the hanging bell, alerting the servants they would be dining immediately. Torches illuminating the landings flickered in the harsh winds that blew through the drafty hallways of the Manor House. Several cracks on the outer wall permitted the icy mountain air to enter, making the tapestry flutter in its wake. The couple’s easy conversation halted as Evangeline asked with apprehension in her tone, “Will you be riding back tonight?”

He paused, swallowed and uttered, “Yes. She is expecting me. But please, let us enjoy the time we have together.”

By the time they descended to the ground floor, the meal had been laid out on a massive oak table. The hearth crackled and flamed, banishing the room’s chill. A huge ornate blue carpet beneath the carved table assured that dampness from the cold stone floor would not enter their feet and creep up their legs while dining. Silver plates were laden with food and goblets sparkled, reflecting the many candles alight in two massive chandeliers. Decanters of wine stood next to baskets of bread and cheese along with cups of churned butter and fruit dusted lightly with sugar.

The Chevalier surveyed the tableau of domesticity before him. “Evangeline, as always, perfection to the smallest detail.” He kissed her cheek in appreciation.

He pulled the chair out for her, before seating himself.

Sitting across from him, Evangeline removed her crisp white napkin, placing it on her lap. “I instructed the cook not to remove the head and tail of the fish. I know how much you like filleting your food.”

With gusto, the Chevalier picked up the heavy silver utensils and started his meal. Evangeline glanced at him and noticed the passion he exhibited filleting the fish. His eyes shone and his lips were moist as his knife pierced the skin below the head allowing him to separate the head from the body with flair. With a deft cut, he split the fish in half exposing the succulent pink flesh and the spindly white bones of the narrow back. The Chevalier’s hands trembled, not from weakness but from excitement of the impending morsel he was about to taste.

A sudden flash of insight stabbed through Evangeline as she recognized the Chevalier’s passion for what it really was, love and adoration of his food. Emotions she perceived neither his wife nor she ever experienced during the many years of loving the same man. He loved food, sustenance of the body, its only demand to be consumed. His soul could only love a woman on the surface since the passion, the commitment and the joy required for love would always be reserved for his food which allowed him to be aloof from people. Evangeline pushed her plate away.

“You’re not hungry?” he asked, glancing up from his plate.

“I ate earlier while waiting for you.” Pausing briefly, she glanced at the man she had loved for forty years. “I often wonder how our lives would have differed if you and I had lived together.”

“A Knight of the Realm cannot leave his wife for another woman. I would have lost my position on the realm’s council! This would have been untenable.” He glanced at her, puzzlement evident in his face as he spoke again. “Besides, what guarantees do we have that it would have worked out between us?” he said, as his fork selected a plump berry.

A forlorn smile graced her lips. “I know that you and I could have been happy.” She stood up and pushed her chair back. Taking a deep breath, she spoke again. “How much love’s forces seem to dominate one,” her tone changed as sadness crept in. “How long did my folly last?” she sighed deeply in response. “Too long have I been leading this life!”

Her slender hand reached out to the Chevalier. “Good-bye my beautiful love.”

He took her cool hand between his and holding it with reverence kissed the hand whose brown spots revealed her age. “Evangeline?”

“Yes, my dear! Someday people will say the Chevalier was a competent knight, husband and could fillet fish perfectly, but he did not know love nor did he know how to love.” She went to him and kissed him fully on lips that still tasted of fish. Picking up his napkin, she dabbed her lips, letting it flutter to the floor as she turned and left the room.

She was neither sad nor did she feel grief. Instead, she was flooded with relief that she had reached the turning point, which would allow her to lead her own life and enjoy whatever it brought.

The dragon scrutinized his pupil. “My child, how happy I am that you are learning that each picture has a story.”

“This one is called ‘Evangeline et Chevalier’. This is the story young women tell each other to prove that love can conquer all, old women recant to show that love does not conquer all and wise men use to demonstrate the futility of love.”

“And the board, how did you show the facets of the story?” the dragon asked.

“The image is of a naked couple holding hands and in the background a tree in full bloom, around its trunk a coiled snake and hovering above them a demi-god assigned to protect humanity.”

“And the meaning?”

Lady Woo’s face was bathed in a broad smile. She knew for the first time that she had captured the dragon’s attention with the retelling of an ancient folk tale.

“The meanings, my Lord, are many fold. A decisive point has been reached in your life. An important choice must be made with reference to true desire rather than duty. A dramatic change of attitude will lead to happier times. Love, reconciliation and physical pleasure.”

“You captured the essence of the story.” Noticing her flushed, happy face, he lowered his lids, and sleepily informed her, “Our session is finished.”
Lady Woo rose, bowed in acknowledgement and headed toward the door. The dragon’s gravely voice interrupted her departure.

“Before you leave, I must ask you, do you ever wonder about your family?”

Her back stiffened before she turned around to face him. “Yes, I do.”

“Then by all means explore that issue. I’ll see you next week.”

The large black lacquered doors opened before her and she disappeared through the opening, her silk robe wafting in the summer breeze. Her mind churned as she wondered what the dragon meant with his remark and why did he always has to wait until to the end of their meeting to pose questions to her?

Illustrations from the Rider-Waite Tarot Deck® reproduced by permission of U.S. Games Systems, Inc., Stamford, CT 06902