Steen was getting tired of sitting. He had been perched on this uncomfortable lump of wood that served for a chair for hours. He did not feel at ease sitting in this dark musty room, listening to the ragged breathing of the priest who lay tossing and turning in the bed beside him.

He gingerly stretched his shoulders upwards, trying to work out the uncomfortable kinks that had settled there from the long hours of sitting. He didn’t want to be here, confined in the unpleasant closeness of the sick room as the night passed by. He wished he were out searching for who, or what did this, rather than sitting here in the dark.

But he would do anything for Hepsie and he knew that this was the best way he could help her. He was worried about his little wife as she ran about, carrying the weight of everyone’s sorrows on her shoulders. They were strong shoulders, but so small to be bearing such a great burden. He would carry as much of the load for her as he could.

He cared about the Father too, and knew it was deeply important that he awoke. The people were in desperate need of guidance, and the priest provided that in his own gentle, tentative way. But in the back of Steen’s mind he could not help but think of the many times he had seen the priest with Valeriya. And there was a certain something that Steen could recognise in the man’s eyes when he gazed upon her lovely, pale face. Steen knew it because his expression must have been the same when he was looking at Hepsie.

Now as he looked down upon the man’s tortured face, as he gritted and gnashed his teeth, moaning in pain, he felt an overwhelming pity for him.

Steen was lucky, God had been kind to him and given him Hepsie, the only thing he truly wanted in this world. But it seemed to him the devil nipped at Harndall’s feet, while he struggled to stay on the path chosen for him. Steen was lucky. What if he had been born a priest. What then? Would he still have loved Hepsie? He knew it for sure. Whatever incarnation God has seen fit to assign to him, he would love her, whether he were a Prince on high, or a dog whining at her feet.

She was so beautiful her soft features, her infinitely kissable lips, the rosy blooms in her cheeks, her deep brown eyes that smiled even when she didn’t. He loved the way her curly hair cascaded down her shoulders when she loosed it at the end of the day. No one else saw it that way, they could only suspect from the tiny curls she neatly tucked behind her ears. Sometimes he liked to twine those thick strands between his fingers, or just bury his face in her hair and breath deep the comforting scent of hay and sandalwood.

He awoke with a start as the door clicked open softly.

“Well my luverly… looks like I’m catchin’ yew sleepin’ on the job eh?”, she smiled warmly at him but he could see the exhaustion hiding just beneath the surface. He knew how much effort it was for her to pretend and he wanted to take her in his arms and carry her to bed where she could sleep for as long as she wanted. He would stand guard at the door and turn the needy folks away. He would do it for her. But she would never want that.

He looked up at her beautiful, beloved face, as she gazed down at him, and his heart thumped painfully in his chest. He loved it when she looked down upon him like this, it was such a change from the usual way of things as he towered above her all day. In the night he loved to lay back and watch her as she moved above him. She would look down at him, her dark hair falling around her flushed face, her lips parted in a soft moan, as his body moved in rhythm with hers.

As he leant forward to push himself out of their chair his face almost brushed her pregnant belly. He paused for a moment to have word with the little creature growing inside.

“Well hello in there, how’re yew doin’ littl’ mite… bet yer gettin’ tired of yer ma runnin’ around like this and think she should be takin’ a bit of a rest now”, he nodded sagely pretending to listen to some unheard voice.

He stood up now looking down at Hepsie. He loved this too, the way her eyes raised up to him expectantly and he could see the inside of her lower lip when her mouth was slightly opened. Also it did give him an extremely good vantage point to gaze at the curves of her breasts peeking cheekily out the top of her dress.

“Littl’ mite in there’s bein’ sayin’ yew need to be goin’ ter get some rest now”, he grinned at her, “yew best be listenin’… I’d say that there babies got its ma’s smarts so it’s probably bein’ knowin’ best and all”.

He swooped her up into a gentle hug, rubbing her back with his great paws. He could feel how tense her muscles were, and her body fell forward wearily against his as she let him knead her back.

Suddenly he felt her body go stiff against him, and she gave a small gasp, the sound muffled by his shirt.

He heard a strangled sob behind him followed by a low moan of pain and a rustling of the blankets.

He turned to see Father Harndall sitting bolt upright in bed, staring at his surroundings in confusion.

“Wha…what?!… Mella… M… Mella…”, he groaned again, “Valeriya! Oh… oh God… oh”.

The panic-stricken man now tried to push the blankets off and stand up as Hepsie and Steen stared at him in shock. His legs collapsed underneath him and he slid to the floor in a crumbled heap with a low cry of pain.

This set Hepsie in action again, and within seconds she was kneeling on the floor beside Harndall. Steen fell to his knees too but was unsure what he should do. He would wait and follow Hepsie’s lead, she would know what to do.

And she did, in an instant her arms were wrapped around the frail priests shoulders and she was murmuring words of comfort as they sat in a heap together on the floor. He was weeping, muttering about Mella and Valeriya and something about someone’s eyes. Occasionally his sobs were interrupted by bout of hysterical, laughter followed by uncontrolled shivers that rampaged through his body.

Steen knew he had married the best of women as he watched his little wife, holding the priest in her gentle arms until the storm of sobbing finally subsided and his head drooped weakly towards his legs. She always knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say to make people feel better.

“Can you be helpin’ me be puttin’ this good Father back to his bed now luv… he’s bein’ needin’ a good deal more rest before he decidin’ it’s time to be gettin’ up and walkin’ round”.

He leapt to his feet first helping his little wife as she struggled to hers and then carefully lifting the Father back into his bed. He managed to send Hepsie to get some rest, after she had checked over the Father, who was now sleeping soundly, three times. Then he resumed his position on that dreadfully uncomfortable seat and began to entertain himself again with thoughts of his wife. It was going to be a long night.

Cade, The Church