9th January 1103

The snow had thickened, layer upon layer of frigid flakes piling up until the landscape was obscured in a swathe of frosty white. It was deep enough that Kelgar’s feet sank up to the ankles with every awkward step and the occasional kick sent freezing snow shoveling into the tops of his boots. He hoped Illewen’s boots came further up her leg. He did not like to think of her dainty legs being chilled.

He stumbled along beside her as she glided gracefully over the ground. He supposed she was so light as to pass over the surface without plunging into the depths, as Jesus had walked on the water. It was probably blasphemous to think that way. He snuck a quick glance behind them and was relieved to see a row of dainty footprints, softly imprinted in the icy mass.

“Wen love, shall we stop here,” she turned slowly to face him, as though the cold air had made her sluggish.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought her here. But where else was there to go? He could have taken her to the stables, but the place was tainted by sordid deeds and reeked of horse shit and sweaty bodies and rotting hay. Here they were surrounded by the pure white snow, the dirty prints from their boots quickly covered up like a blushing virgin by innocent white flakes. Here the only smell was the crisp, fresh scent of winter and the dusky smell of chimney smoke hanging pleasantly in the air.

She looked startled, like a downy hare caught mid hop by the snap of a twig under a hunter’s heavy foot. Her liquid, brown eyes were fixed on his face as though trying to discern whether he was friend or foe. Flakes of snow caught in her brows and her lashes so that the features of her face stood in stark relief.

He gulped a freezing breath in and began, “Wen… well I… yew see, there’s something. Well I…”

Say it, say it you imbecile.

“Yew see… I been doing a lot of thinking lately. A lot. And I’ve come to the conclusion. Yew see. I’ve come to the conclusion.”

Christ this was hard work!

“I’ve been coming to the conclusion that it ain’t no good for yew an’ the littl’ un to live like this.”

He took another deep breath sucking in stray snowflakes that melted wet and icy on his sluggish tongue.

“Vance… he was a good man. One of the best. An’ I would bring him back for yew if only I could. But the Lord doesn’t make things that way.”

Her eyes slowly closed at the mentions of her husband’s name, melted snowflakes forming tiny drops on her lashes that could have been tears. She was so pale and fragile, so beautiful. Why hadn’t he noticed before?

He reached down and gently took her hand in his. It was icy cold, lying limp in his large warm grasp. His fingers gently encircled her wrist. It was so slender he could reach around it with only two of his fingers, the tips meeting chastely on the other side.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought yew out here. Yew must be freezing.”

“The thing is… the thing that I’m asking of yew. Well, yer Matilda is needing a father, an’ yer needing a husband who’ll look after yew. An’ I would be that man if yer having me. I don’t know that I can ever be as Vance was for yew but I’ll do my best to make yew happy.”

Her face thawed, her mouth drooping open into a stunned ‘o’, her eyes squinting shut, her eyebrows darting up. Her hand was still draped, damply in his.

She stared at him for many moments, all of them counted by the pounding of his nervous heart. One, two, three, four, it went on endlessly the only sound in the blanked out world the subdued creaking of the ice laden ships.

Suddenly she darted forward into his arms, their bodies connecting with a soft thud. Startled, he stumbled and then wrapped his arms around her shivering body as she pressed her chill face against his neck. He was moved beyond words as she clutched at the thick wool of his cloak with her trembling hands.

He kissed her gently on her pallid cheek.

“Is that a yes?” he murmured, his lips barely brushing her chill skin as he spoke, his breath warm and heavy.

She slowly nodded.

“Thank you Illewen,” he sighed, wrapping his arms warmly around her slender waist, “I will try to be a good husband to yew and a good father to Matilda.”

She hung heavily from his arms, her head lulling on his shoulder. All was silent, muffled by the thick snow so the dual thudding of their two frightened hearts was almost audible.