As I Went Riding I Met A Fair Maiden, A Yuletide Story

As I rode upon my horse to the mountain castle I had seen before me, I chanced upon a fair maiden a-strolling along the road. She was a well-made wench with flowing hair and a spring in her step. I took this to be a good omen. God be praised.

I stopped to inquire of her where a gentle man might find lodging for the night and a stable for his horse. She stopped and smiled up at me and said, “ I can show you where a man might find solace.” She smiled a happy little smile and as I looked upon her I felt a fire growing within me, yea verily.

“Descend from your mount and I will lead you there,” she said. I dis-mounted and she took the horse’s reins and we walked on together.

After several minutes of walking we came to a small stream. In crossing, she lifted her skirts to wade the water, showing me clearly and lastingly her bare bottom and, when she turned to speak to me, her holy-of-holies. I was moved greatly by the sight and when I complimented her, she being a chaste maid, she blushed not.

“What implement carry ye in your trousers, sir?” she asked forthrightly, gesturing to my pantaloons. “It seems to be larger than when I met you. Will’st thou show it to me? I am a reader of such implements and can fair tell the future from the reading.”

I paused, haltingly, showed her the implement of which she had spoken. She tied the horse to a tree, then came over to frankly appraise it, taking it into her hands, stroking it, blowing on it and generally taking great interest in it. “Ah, this is one of the finest of tools,” she said, “its length and girth are remarkable and it has a fine head and color. “These beneath it,” she said, tricking the objects with her fingertips, “seem to have good volume, each a reservoir of itself of no small amount. May I empty them?”

“Oh, please do, madam,” I beseeched.

With a set of rapid motions she emptied the reservoirs through the instrument onto the ground. “There!” she said. “The poison being emptied, the swelling should now subside.”

I exhaled, feeling myself much relieved. I told her she might let go the instrument and I would place it back where it came from. “Wait,” she said, still holding it. “Let’s see if my ministrations have quelled the turbulence within it or whether I should tickle forth more of its venom.” Slowly, her words took on gravity as she stroked, fingered and manipulated the rude tool. “I will have to empty it again!” She clicked her tongue and made slower, firmer motions upon the instrument, causing me at last to pierce the air with a shout of alleluia. “Oh, my! Your face is beet red!” she said. “I think we have extracted the last of the poison now.”

There was no question as the instrument seemed to shrink in her fingers and she helped me re-holster it.

“Well, my fair maid, what reading do you gather from the implement?”

“I see a rough, sleepless night ahead of you, sir. I have seen you, in my mind’s eye, in a fierce struggle with a serpent, sweating and exerting yourself in all manners, like a man first riding a horse and then being ridden like a horse, trying to open a door with a key over and over again, using more and more force to open the door until you collapse in fatigue.”

I quaked to hear these words. What could this mean? I followed the sashaying maiden in a state of strangely calm perplexity.

At last we came to the stable and the maiden led my horse in to a stall, occupied by a mare. She took his saddle from him and hung it on a hook, then brushed and fed him. With that, the horse began to eyeball the mare.

“Is he a stallion?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, if you have interest in animal husbandry, as I do, I feel that we should now witness a didactic episode, as my mare is in season,” she said, smiling happily. “I believe the horses may be willing to entertain and enlighten us to the ways of God.”

Slowly, my horse began to snort and dance. He unsheathed himself as only a stallion can and approached the whinnying mare from behind, propping himself up on her back, hot in pursuit and snorting, his eyes wild.

“Look! He is a stallion! My heavens! Oh! Oh!” shouted the maiden, clenching herself as one would do while in religious ecstacy. “He is such a big horse!”

Although the animal husbandry was indeed interesting, I found myself watching the maiden watching the horses and found this more of a rewarding spectacle. Her eyes rolled back in her head, she moaned, she bit her lip and she threatened to swoon. Again, I felt the fire began to bank and stoke within me. I feared she would fall, so I caught her and laid her down slowly on a mound of hay. She was flushed and seemed to be burning up, so I removed her frock, to cool her down. I fanned cool air upon her heaving, snowy white breast. “Oh, I’m cold!” she said, and she motioned me to lie on top of her to keep her warm. “Oh, do rub against me, good sir!” she cried. So I did. It then occurred to me that the fire in me might somehow better warm her, so uncovered myself and I looked for a way to transfer the fire to her and quickly found it. It seemed to me then that she then was equally aflame, but she bound me with her arms to herself and began to buck wildly, calling me her stallion. I felt a great sense of well-being to help a maiden so in distress and aided her as best as I could until at last I felt the fire transferring from me to her as she called out Hosannas to our Lord and Savior. We collapsed together, quite fatigued by the ardent efforts and recovered momentarily, feeling much relaxed and in a state of exalted well-being. I felt fortunate indeed to have met with such a religious maiden and to have offered her help in this way.

“You seem to have an admirable skill with a lady, sir,” she said. “It seems that you are able to read my mind.”

To this I knew not what to say and rather than speak, just fell to frankly admiring her holy of holies and other pretties as she rolled in the hay.

After I helped her cool down a few more times, we made our way out of the stable to the castle for the night. “I’m the town prostitute, by the way,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes.

“If that’s the case, do you know where can we find a priest to get married?” I asked. I had always vowed that should I find a woman of such religious substance, I would marry her.