The Mysterious Stranger

"You look very thoughtful my darling," he said, "I hope you are not worrying about tomorrow. Everything is done that needs to be done and even the weather looks set fair. We have finally finished the roof of the barn and the tables and benches are all in place ready for our wedding breakfast."

I didn't say anything in reply, still trying to digest the news that I was to be married the next day to a man about whom I knew nothing, not even his name. In my confusion however, fragments of memories began to drift into my consciousness as if from a great depth. He continued to hold me and as I stared into his face, a single name suddenly swam into view. His name was Huw, I was absolutely certain of it.

"My dear Gwen, where has my little chatterbox gone? The cat certainly seems to have caught your tongue today," he said, laughing, "so why don't you get me a jug of ale while I make myself comfortable, and then you can make your fiddle sing for me."

"Oh Huw, I'm sorry, I can hardly believe that tomorrow we will be husband and wife at last. I have to keep pinching myself to be sure it's not all a dream. Of course I'll play for you tonight, but tomorrow I will expect you to join me with your pipe in a duet to celebrate our new state of wedded bliss."

Then, as quickly as they had dispersed, the clouds returned and moments later I was back in the twenty first century sitting alone in my familiar room in front of the dying embers of the fire.

ooOoo

I didn't take the globe out of its box for many weeks after that. I often pondered the strange vision, and the only rational explanation I could come up with was that in some magical way I had picked up ancient memories buried in the stones of the cottage.

It was a bright sunny morning in early Spring when the globe called out to me again. The previous day Mam had been admitted into hospital following a stroke which had left her speechless and paralysed on one side. This time the transition was sudden, like a light being switched off and on again. I woke — that is the only way I can describe it — to find myself standing in front of the altar of the church with Huw beside me. He was holding my hand and slipping a gold ring — the gold ring — onto the third finger of my left hand. He leaned forward to kiss me and I heard the voice of the vicar pronouncing us man and wife.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I remember us playing a duet at the wedding breakfast as I had asked and a choir singing old songs about love and marriage. Then I was lying in a large bed between fresh linen sheets smelling of violets and roses and Huw was walking through the door dressed in his night shift. All my apprehensions vanished like mist in the morning sunlight when he removed his shift and stood naked before me in the soft flickering light of the candle. He was so beautiful, his hard workman's muscles rippling effortlessly as he slipped between the sheets next to me and took me in his arms. Our lovemaking that night was glorious and passionate, tender and joyful, and when I eventually fell asleep it was with a feeling of utter contentedness. I was home and this was where I belonged, and all thoughts of my previous life were no more than a half forgotten dream.

This time the vision did not fade and many months passed before I returned to the future one last time for my mother's funeral. I am now an old woman with half a score of grandchildren to delight my final years. Huw and I sit by the fire in the evening in contented togetherness, reminiscing over our wonderful life. It hasn't always been easy without the benefits of modern life and two of our children died in infancy. But we have both been blessed with good health and our lovemaking has always been a mutual celebration of an intense and lasting passion. My fingers are too stiff now with arthritis to play my violin, but I occasionally take it out of its case and run my fingers across its strings and it sings to me of the joy and completeness that true love brings. I have left it to my eldest granddaughter in my will along with the small box containing a simple glass globe that sits on a shelf above the fireplace. She has often asked me about the it, but all I have told her that it is very precious and that it contains a mystery which maybe she or her children or grandchildren will one day understand.