Noah listened politely while Arran chattered incessantly about the coming spring, the new work planned for the church and the castle and anything else he could think of.

Noah understood that he was trying to distract him from the dreadful cries of agony coming from the next room intermittently. And he appreciated what the young man was trying to do, but he thought if he mentioned foundations or ploughing one more time he too would begin to scream through his clenched teeth and once he started he would not be able to stop.

“Yew see… I figure… if we bein’ puttin’ in these wooden latts in a manner like this ‘ere”, he demonstrated enthusiastically with his arms, “then we’d be all set”.

“I mean, if we was to… “, he trailed off with a grimace as another anguished screech echoed around the small room, amplified by the stone walls surrounding them.

Had Noah known the effect those walls would produce he would never have built them. Right at this moment he wanted to tear them down with his bare hands, anything to stop that terrible sound. If something happened to her he would anyway, breaking apart all his careful work, smashing the rocks to pieces, his axe slicing through the wooden fence she had stroked, digging up the trees he had planted dirt pushing beneath his fingernails, the grainy brown material scraping along the fibres of his heart.

“Sorry lad… “, he mumbled, “don’t think I’m really bein’ in a talkin’ mood anymore. Thanks all the same”.

Arran nodded mutely, with a distraught look, his next sentence dying on his lips. Noah knew that the poor boy, eager to please as he was, was probably scolding himself inwardly for talking too much, perhaps for saying the wrong things. Right at that moment Noah could not even bring himself to care.

He slowly rose from his chair and went over to the window, gazing at the snow-covered fields, distorted by his hot breath panting onto the frosty glass. The world outside was muted pink, the last stars winking out over the horizon. It was dawn and his wife had lain in that tiny room he had built for them for almost a day.

He suddenly had a desperate urge to be outside, where there was no sound but the infinitely soft thud, as tiny snowflakes spiralled down to the ground, and the hollow sound of the wind through the deadened trees.

He fled the closeness of the tiny room with its carefully packed walls, its merrily crackling fire and the awkward conversation of a sad young man, a gust of frigid wind hitting his face as he opened the door.

He cautiously picked his way down the slippery embankment of snow, shivering slightly as the tang of the cold breeze caressed his body. He stood gazing out to sea, under a roof of cypress trees that creaked in dismay under the weight of the countless tiny flakes that had never made it to the ground.

The water gleamed blue in the early light, chill tongues of ice reaching out from the shoreline towards the darker water where sluggish currents still stirred.

He could venture out on that ice, painstakingly making his way over the frozen path. The grating sound in his ears as the ice below his feet began to deform, the tiny crystals kinking and bending until the strain became too much, brittle fractures rampaging through like fast growing roots. Then there would be the dreadful roar as the seemingly solid ground cracked below his feet, the dark, cold water rushing up to meet him as he scrabbled uselessly with numbing fingers on the edges. The first breath taken, the burning of icy water rushing into his resisting lungs, a struggle and then quiet, spiralling towards the depths.

He heard a gentle padding sound behind him, and turned slightly to see Dog gingerly picking his way over the snow, lifting his paws high in a futile attempt to keep them warm.

He came and sat silently at Noah’s feet without the usual whining and begging. It seemed that he understood the solemnity of the morning and for once Noah was glad for the company.

They stayed there for a long time as the sun began to peek her rosy face over the sparkling white fields and the icy blue sea.

He heard an awkward crunching behind him but he dared not turn around for fear of who it might be and what they might have to say to him.

Hepsie came to stand silently beside him. Still he dared not look at her, desperately afraid of what he might find in her face.

“Ooh… now then yew big ruddy baby… I know it’s bein’ that cold out here an yew’ve had a hard day but that’s not bein’ a good reason to start kickin’ at yer poor old Ma”, she rubbed her moving belly painfully until the baby began to calm.

With a burst of courage he turned towards Hepsie, gazing at the soft lines of her face. She was not paying attention to him, her concentration centred on soothing the small being inside her.

She looked exhausted, dark circles around her eyes, her head drooping wearily. Her hair had escaped it’s usual tight bun and hung in sweaty curls around her shoulders.

“Now good sir”, she said turning to Noah with a broad grin, “I am bein’ that pleased to announce that yew are the father of a healthy son… that big he’s bein’ though… and he was so turned around… gave yer poor wife a dreadful time he did”.

“My wife”, he croaked, unable to bring himself to speak properly

“Oh the poor lamb… she’ll be just fine. She’s a bit tired is all. So I’m bein’ as well fer that matter. And I think yew too”.

His heart was suddenly filled with an overwhelming joy and he scooped Hepsie into his arms planting a large kiss on her flushed, cold little cheek.

“Thank yew”, he murmured unable to say anything else, choking slightly on these simple words.

“Yer bein’ welcome Noah love”, she replied, smiling wearily at him, “it was my pleasure to be bringin’ another bonnie wee lad like him into this world. And God’s own pleasure to let me be the one to do it”.

She whistled softly, “He’s bein’ the fifth boy bein’ born this month. Better be gettin’ some girls soon or there be bein’ an awful lot of fightin’ over poor wee Aisling when they grow up”.

Suddenly her smile fell and all that was left was the sagging features of exhaustion pulling heavily at her face.

“Yew be gentle with that wife of yer’s then Noah. She’s had a real rough time of it and she’s goin’ to need both yew and Arran to take good care of her”.

He nodded mutely and they walked back to the house together, Dog trotting along beside them, his eager footsteps squeaking softly in the newly fallen snow.

He accepted Arran’s congratulations as quickly as he could without seeming cruel and then opened the door and walked into the room.

Gena inclined her head towards him as she always did when she heard his footsteps. However her usual radiant smile was missing, her lips slack, her face drawn and weary. Her hair was plastered around her flushed expressionless face.

He bent down and gently kissed her clammy forward, stroking her hot cheeks with his chilled hand. She did not reach out to feel his features as she usually did when he was close, her hands resting wearily on her still swollen belly.

“He’s bein’ over in that there cradle if yew want to be seein’ him”, she murmured, her voice soft as though speaking were a great effort, “yer son”.

Something about what she said disturbed him, though he could not work out what it was and so he crept over to the cradle to peer in.

He gazed down at the baby in wonder. He was indeed a robust little thing with rosy skin, and strong kicking legs. His face was turned towards the wall and suddenly Noah desperately wanted him to turn and look at him.

He reached down a tentative hand, his big rough fingers gently hovering above the chubby body lying restlessly in the crib. His courage faltered, his fingers almost brushing the tiny creature but then retracting to hide shamefully curled inwards to the palm of his hand at the last minute.

Then it did not matter because the baby turned his head to stare up at his father, his brown eyes blinking with curiosity at this new face above him.

“Gena love…”, he breathed, “He’s being the most amazin’ thing I’ve ever been seein’”.

He heard her sigh deeply from across the room, the sound hissing from her exhausted lungs and through her drooping lips.

“I wouldn’ be knowin’ cause I can’t be seein him”, she said dully.

And then he realised what was bothering him. She had said his son, not theirs.

Barran, Cade, Ulcar