Steen gently uncovered Hepsie’s eyes, “Alright my loverly pudding… you can open em’ eyes now if yer like”.

Hepsie stood blinking in the warm Autumn light for a minute, until her eyes focused on the structure standing before her. It took her a moment to comprehend why Steen had brought her here and what it was she was looking at.

When she did understand she could barely contain her excitment, her little fists clenching, a smile growing across her entire face. Steen was pleased to notice she was almost jumping up and down so great was her enthusiasm. This was exactly the response he had hoped for during the long hours of planning and building.

“Steen!”, she turned to him with a squeal her arms flapping like a baby bird taking its first flight, “Is this fer us… is it ours?! Did you make it? How did you do it? When did you do it?”

“Hush my love, you should be asking me one question at a time, lest my poor big head be getting confused”, he grinned wildly at her.

“Okay, okay… I be asking one question at time then… is it ours?”, she asked, her beautiful eye wide with wonder.

“Yes me love, it be all our own, though t’isn’t very much yet… only three walls and a hole for the door”.

“But Steen… you built it in me favourite place… how did you know I loved it so here?”

“Well I guess a little blind birdy you know very well, told me yer secret place so I spoke to the Baron and he said we could build our own little farm here… so this be the beginning of it… our own farm”, he was smiling so widely now his face was hurting, but he didn’t mind.

“Okay… second question then… how did you get the time to build this here house, or the start of it anyways? I thought you had been busy all the time building the new church, ‘specially with Sir Arwaduhn ill like he has been? And how did I not find out about this, you cheeky squirrel”.

Her skin was glowing a soft brown in the warm, diffracted light. Her plump lips were looking exceedingly kissable Steen thought but he would answer her question and then steal a kiss.

“Well you’ve been so busy wiv all the poor women and their lost babies, that you’ve barely been knowing at all where I’m going these days. I only see you when you come crawling into our bed at night. Which gave me and Noah the perfect opportunity to come out here in the forest and build this here fine building”, he grinned again, chuckling slightly at his joke, “Reminds me I’ve promised to help Noah wiv his but he said he din’t mind starting wiv mine since it was being your birthday so soon and I wanted ta suprise you. But I guess now that Gena’s expecting we’re going to need to be hurrying on that their house of his and postponing our’s for now if you don’t mind”.

His little wife was staring up at him, her face glowing with affection and joy, “Of course I don’t mind you silly donkey… we have to be getting shelter over that wee babe that’s comings dear little head don’t we… I don’t think it will be fitting so well in their tiny cabin on the ship”.

He felt so happy he thought he would burst. He was a very lucky man indeed to have such a fine little wife, who loved him and he loved so much sometimes it hurt.

He put a hand on her waist guiding her gently to the mossy grove behind the beginnings of their house. She plopped down ungraciously between his legs, sighing with happiness.

“This is my favourite place Steen, right here amongst the beautiful flowers”.

Steen mumbled agreeably, stroking her tiny waist with his big, calloused hands.

“I’m so happy love, this is the best birthday I ever have had!”, she continued prattling on about what they would do with the house, and where she would plant her garden but all Steen could focus on was the scent of her hair and the soft skin on the back of her neck.

He kissed it gently, thinking to himself that God had surely made that spot, the nape of her neck just slightly covered with downy hair, precisely for this purpose.

They sat their in the cool shade of the trees for a long time, watching brightly coloured leaves twirling gently in the breeze and planning their new home. The shadows began to grow long as the sun sank slowly towards the horizon. Then they had to go back to the ships then, back to the sorrow that seemed to hang over them like a dark cloud.

They stood, Steen gently picking twigs from Hepsie’s hair. He wrapped her in has arms and kissed her on the nose, there among her flowers and the golden-brown Autumn leaves.

“Can we go inside Steen?”, she asked softly.

“Of course”, he gently laughed, “although inside isn’t being very big just yet”.

She smiled at him and he took her tiny hand in his and led her into what was to be their very own house.

Cordell had been struggling in the deep water for what seemed like eternity. Sometimes his head would sink beneath the surface for long breathless moments but always, the strength of his will would push it up again.

But his limbs were exhausted, his whole body aching desperately for sleep and he knew he could not last any longer. His head sank again into the water and with a final burst of energy he came up spluttering, gasping for breath. He knew it would be his last.

He could not fight it anymore, his body was broken and his limbs relaxed as the cool water pushed in around his face, finally swallowing him. He welcomed its icy embrace, gently wrapped itself around his worn out body as he slowly descended towards the depths of the lake.

But as his lungs began to burn he was filled with panic, thrashing around uselessly as the weight of the water pressed in around him. This was not how it was supposed to end, he thought as his movements gradually lessened and a dark fog settled on him. He felt himself slipping away from his struggling body, down into the black depths where sightless creatures crawled amongst the slime.

Just as he was floating free of the confines of his body a firm hand clasped his and he felt his body being pulled towards the surface back into the light.

The hands held his tightly as his head broke the surface and he felt the sting of the icy rain on his skin. He gulped in the cool air, retching and spluttering as he brought up the water he had breathed and swallowed.

When he could breath again more normally he looked up into the face of Lisbet. Her soft lips slightly parted she was smiling silently at him, her face glowing radiantly despite the heavy mist that surrounded them.

Her thick hair was plastered to her face and he could not help but notice her dress was clinging damply to her body. It was the dress she had worn on their wedding day, he did not know what had become of it now, perhaps she had burned it. He would not have been surprised.

But she had not let go of his hands and he clung desperately to them, feeling as though if he let them go he would be lost, sinking again into the muddy depths.

He saw her lips moving, she was saying something but he could not make out the words.

She only said it once and then he felt her hands pulling away from his and she turned towards the bank.

“Lisbet… please do not leave me here”, he cried in despair trying to follow but he was unable to leave this place.

“Lisbet”, he croaked again, his voice hoarse from the water he had swallowed, “Lisbet…”. But she did not turn around.

He raised his hands pleadingly to her, but she did not see and he lost sight of her between the trees. He did not know where she was going, only that he wanted to follow but could not.

Cordell moaned in pain, suddenly very aware of his body. It took him a moment to understand the unfamiliar surroundings. He was lying in a bed in a dark stuffy room, his head pounding and his entire body singing out in exquisite pain.

The heat of the room was suffocating, and he breathed deeply trying to take in enough air. What was most disconcerting was the hot body pressed up against his and he pushed it away from him, groaning from the exertion.

He heard a sharp gasp, and then felt the bed moving. He turned his neck stiffly and saw Lisbet, pushing back the covers and hurriedly sitting.

He tried to sit too, his head reeling as light danced behind his eyelids.

“Lisbet”, he croaked, his voice hoarse, his tongue swollen and thick in his mouth.

She turned to look at him, shock written all over her face which was also blushing a dark shade of red.

“I will get someone for you Cordell, lie down again… you.. you should not be moving around”.

She turned her back on him again fumbling at the door handle.

“Lisbet… please… please do not leave me… Lisbet…”

But she was already gone and he was left alone again, dizzy and frightened, pain flaring in every part of his body and a sob rising in his throat.

Father Harndall had come and gone, and now it as just Lisbet and her dying husband in the quiet of the room. Harndall had given him is last rites and prayed for a long time by his bedside. Now Lisbet knelt on the wooden floor and prayed too as she had done every day many times since Cordell had become ill.

She did not know what to ask for anymore. At first she had prayed because she felt like she should. After all he was her husband and he was ill, it was a Christian thing to do. But as the weeks wore on and Cordell’s health steadily declined, she had found her prayers for his survival becoming more and more fervent, until she was begging for him to be spared.

She would have given anything for her husband to yell at her and call her a banshee or a witch. Anything would be better than this deathly silence, the pale, wasted figure lying before her, struggling for every breath. She had watched that face so long she felt like she knew every curve, every hollow. His superficial injuries had begun to heal but there had been no sign of the fever abating, and they had told her he would probably not last the night.

Was this how it would end, Cordell like a fish dragged onto the shore by a hook in its mouth, finally losing the battle for breath. Despair welled up in her and suddenly the grief was too much to bear and she stood up, almost knocking the chair over.

She thrashed around wildly, as though the movement would somehow abate her sorrow. Her head was whirling and she felt dizzy and short of breath. Her body shuddered with great, gasping sobs and her ears were ringing as darkness pressed in at the edge of her vision.

She managed to stumble to the edge of the bed and then collapsed onto the floor, leaning heavily against the bedpost. Her life was crumbling before her, all her cruel comments, her unfair demands and insults ringing in her ears. How could she have been so stupid? How did she not realise what she had before it was too late. She felt as though her eyes were open now to all the possibilities that had been before her and she had ignored. And now it was too late.

She gasped for air, retching, her heart pounding inside her chest. She couldn’t live with this pain, how could she go on another day like this, in a world without him. Her heart would surely break apart inside her chest, oozing blood until she was cold and dead.

She slowly stood up, her knees shaking beneath the weight of her body as she steadied herself against the bed. She had never shared a bed with her husband, never known what it was like to sleep next to a man. But tonight she would even it would be the only night she ever did.

She carefully sat down on the edge of the bed , as nervous as though it were her wedding night. But she would never have one, never have his children, never be loved by him. All these things would now be cruelly pulled from her desperately grasping hands, just as she realised how important they were to her.

Another wave of sorrow crashed over her and she hugged her knees to her chest and buried her face, her sobs muffled by the heavy fabric of her dress.

She maneuvered herself under the blanket, and tentatively pulled it up to her chin. Although she had shared beds with her sisters before, it was a strange feeling to know that there was a man in this one, her man, her husband. She should be giggling as he tried to kiss her smiling mouth, feeling his strong arms wrapping around her, knowing she was safe there with him.

Instead she felt like an intruder, as though she had accidentally climbed into the wrong bed and found someone there she had not expected. Worse, she felt as though her husband was so far gone already she may as well be climbing into the crypt to lie beside his cold, dead body.

She brought her small hand up to the pillow and stared intently at the wedding ring on her finger. She had been so angry to have it put there in the first place, this sign of possession. She had hated it so as though it had been shackles around her ankles instead, had even considered throwing it into the river. But now, glowing soft gold in the candlelight it seemed to her a thing of exquisite beauty and she wondered how she could have ever disliked it so fervently.

She carefully moved over, edging closer to the body of her unconscious husband. Even though he was so far gone nothing would have woken him, she did not want to disturb him.

She drew as close as she dared to his body, as near as she could be without actually touching him. She could feel that he was not cold, but very warm indeed, the heat of the fever radiating from him and warming the bed around him.

With a brief burst of courage she crossed the remaining space between them, burying her face in his long mane of hair. She had expected him to smell bad, he had been bathed during his illness but still he had been lying there for weeks, thrashing around in a fever. But he didn’t, he smelt warm and safe and with her body pressed against his she could almost imagine he were just sleeping and in the morning he would wake and roll over and smile at her. But it was not to be.

The tears began to roll down her face again, dripping silently onto the pillow. She had been so wrong. But now she knew and she wanted to say it even though it was too late. Perhaps it would be something to comfort him on his long journey to the land of the dead, or perhaps he would go cursing her name but she would say it anyway.

She brought her soft mouth to his hot ear and whispered gently the words she had never spoken to him.

“Cordell, I love you”.

Harndall closed his eyes briefly, fighting a wave of exhaustion. It had been a long day. He had been awoken that morning with the news of Mella’s disappearance and had spent the majority of the day frantically searching for her with the other men. They had finally found her in a corner of the ruined church, soaked through from the night’s rain. He had tried to ask her what had happened, but of course she had not spoken, her reply nonsense mumbled from between chattering teeth.

He could not help but feel a paternal duty to the young woman, who seemed to trust him so completely. She would not let any of the other men help her and it had been him that had wrapped her in his cloak and held her arm as they walked home. It concerned him greatly that as the days went by she was becoming more unreachable, as though she was sitting in a boat that was slowly but surely being carried out to sea. He was only a small figure, waving on the shoreline trying desperately to get her attention.

He heard the door of the ship’s chapel click open and turned to see who was coming to pray at this late hour. He was startled to see it was the Countess, as he had assumed she was still ill. In the candlelight her beautiful pale face was made a mockery by the dark bruises covering it. He had to fight a wave of passionate anger that surged up in him that a man could destroy a creature such as this. It troubled him greatly to feel such things and he quickly surpressed them.

“I am not disturbing you am I Father”, she asked tentatively, her soft spoken voice wavering slightly.

“Of course not my child, this is the Lord’s own place, despite it’s rough appearance and he welcomes all to it”, he reassured her gently, “In fact it would be nice to have a companion in prayer on such a disturbed night as this”.

He spoke of the storm that was now raging outside, the wind howling as thunder rumbled through the thick air. The ship was rocking wildly, fighting to be free from the confines of the ropes that held it fast.

Harndall could not help but notice his palms growing clammy as he looked at her, and his heart pounding nervously in his chest. What was it about her that made him feel so disquieted. Perhaps it was the knowledge of the terrible things that had been done to her, that meant he did not know quite how to approach her. How could he convince her that God still loved her. It was callousness to say that it was part of his plan even though he knew it to be the truth. He could not presume to understand why.

“May… may I sit with you a while Father”, he was surprised by the trembling in her voice. He did not know why but he had always seen her as a strong woman, no matter what people may have said.

“Of course you may, and you needn’t ask… this is a place for all and there is plenty of room on this pew that is not taken up by my wide expanse”.

He had hoped she might laugh at this small joke, usually he found that his sense of humour helped people in their time of need. She only sat however and looked straight ahead at the offering candles burning before her, her face a shade of gold in their light, marred by the creeping expanses of black.

Harndall instinctively knew when one of his parish needed to talk. There was a sort of need that radiated from some people, and he could sense it as easily as he could see himself in the mirror each morning. Valeriya needed desperately to confide in someone, it was up to him to show her that she could.

“My child”, he began, “I can see that something is troubling you. You know that you can share it with me without it being repeated. Only God and I are listening”.

“God”, she laughed harshly, a surprisingly grating sound in the soft darkness of the chapel, “Sometimes I wonder if he is even there at all”.

Harndall could not help but be shocked by this statement, but he understood that it was his duty to guide her gently back into the loving arms of their God. For the first time since he was ordained he did not know how.

He was disturbed to find that not only where his palms sweating, but they were now trembling so uncontrollably, he was finding it hard to hide from the Countess.

“He is there”, Harndall said so softly he was almost whispering, his face reverently turned upwards “Can you not feel him all around you in this place”.

Valeriya tilted her chin upwards, the change of light on her face making the dark shadows even more pronounced.

“Then why has he abandoned me”, she choked back a sob, closing her eyes as though greatly weary.

“I do not deserve his love after what I have done anyway”, a shudder passed through her body, and she sighed deeply.

“Confess to me your Ladyship”, suddenly it was easier to say the words.

“It is my fault that my child died… I did not want Radomir to have a child from me and so I provoked him and now it is gone”.

Her whole body trembled with the effort to fortify the barricade that held her emotions in and kept them hidden from prying eyes. But it was not enough and suddenly the wall was shattered like a broken mirror and the tears came pouring out of her in great gasping sobs.

“I did not want that baby”, she choked out as she weeped uncontrollably, ” I thought I did not. But I was wrong. And now it is gone and it is my fault. I did not protect it… I hated it so passionately… but it was mine too and now it is too late and I have lost it forever”.

She brought her hands feebly to her face in an attempt to stem the tears, but nothing could stop the tide now that it was relentlessly washing over her.

“Today is the day I was born, twenty years ago… but my baby will never be born, never know its evil mother who did not want it so much that she made its father kill it”. Her teeth were chattering as the tears poured down her face, magnifying the cuts on her lips, pooling in the dark circles surrounding her eyes.

Harndall did not know what to say, nor what to do. Without thinking his arm was around her shaking shoulders, as he mumbled careless words of comfort in her ear. He did not think this woman was evil, only worn down and finally broken by the repeated beatings of a man who did not deserve her.

He heard the door click open behind him and hurriedly removed his arm from its gentle resting place on the Countess’ shoulders, standing up in almost the same movement.

He could feel a harsh gaze boring into the back of his head before he had turned around.

He walked quickly to the door to greet Steen who was staring at the forlorn figure of the Countess.

“Goodman Cade”, he said in a tightly controlled voice. It had not been what it had looked like after all, “Is there something I can do for you on this treacherous night”.

He immediately regretted his choice of words, but did not quite know why. Steen did not appear to notice though and seemed inordinately distracted.

“Yes father… you’ll be needed at once… they are saying Sir Arwaduhn is nigh death and will not last this dark night and he is being in dire need of a priest”.

“Of course… that is terrible news. I will come at once”.

He hurried out of the room, the pale figure sitting in the pew at the front of the room not forgotten. He tried to clear his clouded mind. He had matter of great importance to attend to just now.

Mella was awakened by the uncomfortable feeling of something heavy lying on top of her. As she struggled out of the depths of sleep, feeling disoriented and groggy, she realised she could not move her arms at all, as though they were being pinned in place.

She opened her eyes slowly and to her surprise there was nothing there. Yet still she was unable to move and she realised with growing horror that whatever was pinning her down was. She felt it shifting its weight and then a hot, heavy breath on her face. A metallic scent filled her nostrils making her choke, and she panicked trying to pull herself free from her unseen attacker.

“Mella mon amour, ne luttez pas”, a familiar voice whispered huskily into her ear, her entire body stiffening, the hair rising on the back of her neck. It was the voice that spoke to her, inside her head.

“Vous êtes la mienne”, she felt a icy hand stroking her forehead, gently brushing back the hair that had fallen into her eyes. She thought this might be a chance to escape, but as she struggled to push him from her the hand came down faster than she thought possible, resuming an iron grip on her arm.

Her heart pounded in terror, her body trembling all over. The same hand that had been stroking her face, now ran slowly down her side, over her hip. She heard a growl from above her, and suddenly he was kissing her neck, ferociously, his tongue rasping over her skin, his teeth biting into her.

She was shocked by a sudden wave of desire that shuddered through her, and the moan that found its way out from between her lips.

The grasp that had been holding her was released, but now his arms were wrapped around her waist, pulling her against his hard, cold body. She did not how they came to be there but her arms were around him too, feeling the chill of his skin on hers, her hands tangled in a long mane of hair.

Then she felt a hot mouth pressed against hers, the taste and smell of blood was overwhelming. She did not know whether it was her blood, nor did she care if it was. She was drowning in it, suffocating, but it was a death she welcomed, opening her mouth as it poured into her.

Mella awoke again in a place she did not know. As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting she saw she was standing in the ruins of some great building. A cool wind, signaling the coming Autumn, ripped at her flimsy nightdress and pulled at her long, dark hair.

She was shivering all over, the creature from her nightmare gone, but an unpleasant taste remaining in her mouth. She wrapped her arms around herself in a futile attempt to keep warm. She knew that in the last months, since arriving on Mhalwae she had sleepwalked many times. Could she have strayed so far from the ships? She wanted to cry for help, but she couldn’t force herself to utter a sound.

As she sobbed quietly into her hands, she could not help but wonder why God was punishing her.

Cindra stood on deck as the gentle summer breeze caressed her face. It was a beautiful sunny day and she was very glad to get some fresh air. She felt like she had been inside for weeks, dividing her time between her husband and Cordell, helping neither very much.

She had to admit she was not feeling very well. She had a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach that would not go away, not even now when she was finally out of the dark, close air of the sickroom. She breathed deeply to try and get past the nausea, fighting a momentary feeling of panic. She had not thought that perhaps Cordell’s sickness was contagious, had not even considered a possible danger to her and her husband.

Suddenly she felt a desperate urge to vomit, and ran to the side of the ship, heaving over the edge. She stayed there until the waves of nausea finally dissipated and she felt that she had nothing left in her stomach.

This was not good. She could not remember if Lisbet had said whether or not Cordell had experienced these kind of symptoms before he had fallen into a coma. She had been trying to be a good person and now she was probably going to die. She wondered if Lisbet had been feeling ill like this too.

The bile rose in her throat again and she fought against it, not wanting to throw up a second time. Her stomach already ached from dry retching and she wasn’t keen to continue with it. This was terrible. She didn’t want to die. She was too young. She hadn’t even had children yet.

Without warning she began to laugh, a small chuckle that slowly moved its way through her body until it had conquered it completely and she was shaking with tears of mirth rolling down her cheeks. How could she have been such a silly goose.

She realised that she had not bled for the past few months, so many things had happened that she had completely lost track of the days. Now here she was worrying about dying, when the truth of the matter was something wonderful. She clutched her stomach, which was beginning to ache again with the strain of so much laughter.

Unfortunately her stomach was not impressed with the amount of movement, and she had to lean over the ship’s side once more to appease it. She clutched feebly at the railing until finally it passed.

She straightened up, gently releasing her poor abdomen, moving slowly in case the nausea came back again. She seemed to be feeling a lot better, although her stomach was very tender and her sides were aching.

She flopped down onto the deck, somewhat exhausted from her exertions. She could not keep the broad smile from her face as she gazed up at the sunny, blue sky. She was going to be a mother.

It did not seem to matter that so many things were wrong. Her life my have been full of distress and sleepless nights, but right at that moment, Cindra had found a very good reason to be happy.