Morven craned her neck to look at them as they processed through the door. She still couldn’t comprehend the fact that in their arms they carried her babies. Babies! How could she not have known that there were two of them kicking around inside her. Oh! but they were so very small, she thought her heart sinking.

“Well hello their yer ladyship”, Hepsie smiled jovially, “we’re bringin’ some litll’ fellas to be seein’ their ma then, can we be comin’ in”.

“Of course…”, she mumbled weakly, struggling into a sitting position with Alexis’ help.

She rested her back against the bed for a moment, breathing heavily, her heart pounding, supremely irritated that such a small movement could exhaust her so much.

Hepsie slowly waddled around the bed carrying the smaller of the two. She stared at it for a moment, with an odd feeling of detachment. Somehow she couldn’t believe that this small creature had actually been living inside her for the last eight and a half months, sleeping in her belly listening to the warm thump of her heartbeat.

She suddenly had an overwhelming desire to hold him in her arms, prove to herself that he was solid and real and not just some dream wraith that would disappear when she awoke the next morning.

She heaved her legs over the edge of the bed, as Hepsie gently protested.

“Yer ladyship… perraps it’s bein’ better if yew stay lyin’ down… yew can hold him there. Ye’ve been havin’ a rough time these past few weeks”, she could hear a note of disapproval in the younger woman’s voice.

“Hepsie… I… I want to stand… been in bed for so long… want to… see… if my legs… still work”, she wheezed.

“Arright then… but don’t be sayin’ I didn’ give yew the best advice… and yew better be lyin’ yerself down if yer feelin’ bad”, now she was smiling slightly and Morven realised she understood, she couldn’t imagine a woman like Hepsie having to lie down for weeks. Even when she broke her ankle they couldn’t get her to stay in bed, she was up hobbling around the ships, saying it was the best thing for healing it.

She stood up, steadying herself on the chair beside the bed for a moment to catch her breath. Her heart was fluttering in her chest, the tiny brushing wings of a dying bird.

“Here yer are then”, Hepsie said softly and passed the small bundle to her.

She held the tiny baby up to her chest, bringing his little face close to hers so she could look it at in the dim light of the room. Her son looked alarmed for a moment, looking up at her with eyes the colour of her own, then he relaxed in his arms as he recognised her as his mother.

“He… he’s so small”, she murmured.

She gently hoisted him up onto her shoulder, feeling the warmth of his face as it pressed snuffling against the sensitive skin of her neck.

He reached out a tiny hand, clasping gently at a strand of her hair that had slipped over her other shoulder.

Her heart was thumping hard in her chest, with each thump the feeling of awe at this tiny being that she had brought into the world growing. She had not realised it was possible to feel so much.

“Now then”, she heard Alexis, who had gone over to look at the other baby, “will you let me get this fat little baby in my arms”.

He bent down towards his son and began to tickle his tummy. The disgruntled baby kicked its legs out, squirming in Juzzine’s arms and then opened its mouth to give a mighty howl.

“What… what are you doing… to… that poor baby”, Morven laughed weakly.

“Nothing, nothing dearest, he and I are already getting to be great friends”, he replied, swooping down and plucking the screaming baby from Juzzine’s arms.

He held him at arm’s length to get a good look at him. The babies arms flapped wildly in dismay and he gave a confused wail.

“Poor thing… he… he doesn’t know what’s… going on”, Morven smiled in amusement. Her husband seemed to be back to his old self, joking and smiling and generally being exceedingly silly. She hadn’t seem him smile like this for many weeks before when she had been awake.

“Do you know what’s going on little lad”, Alexis teased, “your papa’s going to teach you to fly that’s what”.

He launched the baby up through the air above his head, holding him up there high above him. On the upward swing the boy gave a wail of protest, but once he was up there his crying ceased and he stared down in wonder at his father’s face.

“You see, we’re going to get along just fine. This young fellow appreciates the finer things in life too… like flying”, he said swinging the little boy up and down again.

Watching them, Morven’s body began to feel very tired, the weight of her little son on her shoulder was dragging on her neck. Her still swollen belly was pulling at her back, so that her entire body felt like it should sag gently to the floor where it could finally get some rest. Her knees were beginning to shake with the effort of holding herself up from it. Suddenly it was too much and she just wanted all of them to leave, leave her in peace so she could just sleep again.

“Hep… Hepsie… can you take… take the baby”, she whispered hoarsely, “I think I… need to lie down… again”

Hepsie gently took the baby from her arms. Morven slumped weakly onto the bed, and with great effort began to draw the blankets up around her. They scratched at her skin as she pulled them up, but at this moment, she longed to wrap herself in them and hide from the world.

She heard Hepsie beside her, gently cooing to her son, and she looked up to see her bouncing him on her shoulder while the little baby snuffled quietly.

It seemed so unfair that she could not take care of her own babies, she must leave it to the other women. She cursed the weakness of her body that had ever let this happen in the first place, her heart pounding angrily in her chest.

As she pulled the blanket up to her chin she looked over at Alexis. He was murmuring softly to the other peasant girl. She could not hear what he was saying, but the girl’s head was bowed, her eyes downturned and Morven could see a blush slowly blooming in her cheeks.

An acrid surge of jealousy boiled up through her throat and her heart constricted painfully in her chest.

She laid her head on the pillow and tried not to think about it. She was not usually jealous of Alexis’ escapades so why should she be now. She just wanted them all out, it was too much. She wanted to sleep. She closed her eyes and to her body’s relief, sleep found her there quickly and wrapped her in its embrace.

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.

Hepsie could hear the wailing before she entered the room. She opened the door to find an extremely harassed looking Juzzine, holding the bigger of the two babies in her arms. The other baby lay quietly in his crib, his face turned towards the wall.

They were terribly lucky to have Juzzine, she thought. The young woman had given birth a month ago and she now had the task of feeding not only her own babe, but Morven’s two as well. It was not an easy job, and Hepsie felt bad for her but there was nobody else. The only other women who had given birth on the island were Darina and the Queen. Darina barely had enough milk for Aisling, and of course they could not ask such a thing of the Queen. So the task had fallen to Juzzine, and she had accepted it without question as she did with everything.

She was trying now desperately to quiet the child’s incessant crying but to no avail. Hepsie could see his unhappy face pressed up against her shoulder, his tiny mouth open and tears running down his red little cheeks.

“Come now little’un”, Hepsie cooed, bending down to gently rub his feet, “will yew stop cryin’ fer poor old Juzzi then… she’s bein’ awful good to yew”.

Hepsie had a way with babies, usually she could get them to stop crying quite easily. Not this one unfortunately.

He looked at her accusatorily and yanked his tiny leg from her grasp. Then he opened his mouth wide and began to wail with more gusto than before.

Though he had his mother’s eyes, Hepsie thought she could see some of the cheek of his father shining out of them. It was almost as though his heart wasn’t in it and he was just putting on this show to get the attention of two young ladies.

“See there then… there’s nothin’ yew can be doin’. He just won’t be stoppin’”, Juzzine said sighing in exhaustion, “I’ve been tryin’ everythin’ I can think of”.

Looking at her Hepsie could see the weariness on the other woman’s face, and thought she must look quite similar. They were all being stretched too thin, and it was becoming evident in the small rips and fraying at the edges. She saw that if she were to fall apart now they would all follow, tearing into shreds to be scattered in the frigid winds of the gale outside.

“There’s bein’ somethin’ else too then Hepsie”, Juzzine said, her face creasing into a worried frown, as she hefted her small load onto her shoulder and began to rub its back “My milk’s running low now… I could barely get enough out for this little’un here just now”.

She choked slightly on her words, “What’ll I be doin’ fer me own littl’ bub, I don’t think I be havin’ enough in me fer the three of ‘em”.

This very thing had been worrying Hepsie too, but she could not let the other woman see that. Some women had more than enough milk while others were struggling to feed their own. And here Juzzine was feeding three. But she also knew that sometimes stress and lack of sleep could cause this to happen and they just had to hope that this was the case. Otherwise she didn’t know what they would do.

“Now then’ Juzzi… don’t yew be worryin’ that pretty head o’ yers”, Hepsie began reassuringly.

“Yer just bein’ overtired then, it’s bein’ hard work takin’ care o’ all these little’uns and with all the feedin’ it’s bound to be… tiring”, she caught herself just before she said draining.

“But yew probably just be needin’ a bit o’ sleep. Sometimes this be happenin’ when us ladies are tired. I’ll find someone else to be watchin’ over these two tonight and yew can go back to yer husband and yer own littl’un and get some rest”.

“When was the last time yew been feedin’ these un’s?”, she asked.

“Well, I just fed this’un which is maybe why he’s bein’ cryin’ so much… I think it hurts his wee tummy, but it dried up when I wasn’ quite done. Before that I fed his brother, but Hepsie he don’t be eatin’ so much and he’s bein’ suckin’ so very weakly”.

“And what about yer own?”, Hepsie asked gently.

The other girl’s tired face broke into a proud smile at the mention of her son, “Oh Sermak’s been bringin’ him to me bout’ an hour gone, so he’s good an’ fed now”.

“Well then… all that’s bein’ left fer yew to do then is goin’ get some sleep fer a time”, she smiled kindly at Juzzine, “Now let be seein’ the other littl’un here”.

She went over to the crib and gazed down at the tiny baby inside.

He looked back up at her with Morven’s big blue eyes, his arm lying limply at his side. She didn’t like to say but she had grave fears about this one. They were both such small things, but his brother seemed to have been imparted all the energy. This little one only lay there listlessly, listening to his brother’s loud wailing.

She gently picked up the limp baby, and held him close to her. He did not object , but only lay in her arm’s, his eye’s half-closed as though the action of her lifting him from the cradle had exhausted him.

“Poor littl’ mite”, she murmured softly too him, cradling him against her shoulder, feeling his tiny cold face against hers.

The exhaustion of the day came crashing down on her and she thought she might sob, but she held it in, gently stroking the soft skin on his back.

“Yew just better be arright then littl’un”, she whispered fiercely to him, “yew’ve got a papa who’s bein’ in sore need of yew”.

Varda looked up at her, neatly tucking away the embroidery she had been working on as Hepsie silently waddled into the room.

Hepsie was very grateful that Lady Inbar had offered to sit by Valeriya’s bedside. Her husband had been an absolute nightmare and Hepsie was glad to have finally convinced him to get some sleep. He was constantly pawing at her, stroking her hair, trying to cover her with more blankets as Valeriya’s fever soared.

“How does the Countess be doin’ then yer Ladyship”, Hepsie queried.

Varda gazed over to the bed at the still figure.

“She seems to be resting a lot better since that husband of her’s has left”, the tone of Varda’s voice led Hepsie to believe that they shared a similar opinion of the Earl.

She looked over at the pale figure of the Countess. She was so pallid one could believe she were dead except for the gentle movement of her chest and an occasional whimper of pain. She had lost a lot of blood. Hepsie was surprised she had survived a wound such as hers. They were lucky that it had been such a frigid night last night, the cold had stilled the bleeding. Otherwise she would not have been laying here before them now.

It had taken what seemed like an age to warm her, so frozen was her body. Especially with Radomir hanging over Hepsie, criticising her every action. She had, had to stay by Valeriya’s side, Radomir declaring the woman’s rank over the other beings who sorely needed her attention. Steen had been given hasty instructions of the procedure and gone with some of the other’s to try and save the Father.

So Valeriya had been gently bathed in luke-warm water while Hepsie and Varda rubbed at her limbs, trying to impart some heat back into them. She had carefully sewn up the dreadful wound on the woman’s neck, making the stitches as neat as possible, while Radomir barked that she had better not leave a scar.

Finally some warmth had returned and her heartbeat had strengthened. But then the fever had bloomed, leaving Valeriya soaked in sweat, weakly thrashing in her bed.

What she really needed was blood, but Hepsie did not now how to give it. She had seen the surgeons once before draining blood from an ill person, to rid them of evil humours, but never before had she heard of someone putting blood back in. It was a river that ran one way. All they could do now was wait, bathing her face and trying to give her some water and hope that she would be well again.

Varda turned to her, her face full of concern, her fine brows curving in worry over her eyes.

“Do you think she will survive?”, she asked in a whisper, as though even mentioning the thought out loud were enough to condemn the sick woman.

Hepsie did not like to lie, but she also knew that there wasn’t a lot of hope for the people at this time. This was the third attack and now everyone was confined to the ships, unable to leave for fear of death. They had not gotten much of a start on planting crops for the next year, so they were going to be hard-pressed to ration the food they had left. If the first year had been hard, the second was going to be worse. The people needed whatever hope they could get.

“Well I don’t rightly be knowin’ yer ladyship, but I am thinkin’ it’s bein’ way to soon to give up hope yet. She may be pullin’ through yet… she was in good health before…”, she trailed off. It just seemed so much effort to constantly reassure everyone and keep a cheerful smile on her face. She wanted to lock herself in her room and see nobody for a week. But she knew that was not possible. She was needed.

“What do you think happened to them out there? Do you think what the Earl is saying is true, that Father Harndall did this to her?”, Varda asked, a little of the strength coming back into her voice.

“Well yew not what I be sayin’ to those there accusations he be havin’… bollocks!”, she blushed slightly remembering she was talking to a lady, “I mean… the Father is bein’ a very good man, he would never do such a thing”.

“Beside which”, she said after contemplating for a moment, “he’s bein’ sharin’ those marks on his neck just the same as her, though her’s be far worse and more hasty it looks like. No… I be thinkin’ it’s bein’ something to do with that man that attacked poor Darina. She was havin’ them same marks on her dear neck too. An’ poor sweet Nelly. There’s somethin’ not right about this whole thing… what sort of man goes about bitin’ good people on the neck”.

And the blood, she thought. Too much blood was gone from their bodies, it was unnatural.

Thinking of Darina she hoped the woman was alright. She had gone to stay with her to help with the baby, after the attack. Darina had been quite ill, barely able to feed the baby, so she had lain in bed for many days while Hepsie ran the house. But she had been much better when Hepsie had to leave for the ships, as the Queen herself’s time was approaching.

“Arright then, yer lady… I best be headin’ out to check on those others. Yew just let me know if anythin’ be happenin’ with this poor dear”, she paused, “And try to be keepin’ that husband o’ hers out if yew can… he only seems to be makin’ her worse”.

As she turned and walked out the door a wave of exhaustion washed over her. It was really too much for one woman. Her ankle was throbbing incessantly and the weight of her belly was dragging at her back. If only she could have had Darina and Gena to help her, both were sensible women and irreplaceable in their own ways.

She paused to poke her head in to the room where Morven lay. There was nothing more she could do for the woman, all that was left was to wait as her life slowly ebbed away.

Alexis had refused to leave her side, having only a cursory glance at his sons. Hepsie had tried to convince him to come and see them, perhaps hold them for a while but he had refused. She tried to tell him gently that they might not survive and he should see them while he still could, but he had only closed his eyes, grasping Morven’s clammy hand in his and asked her to please leave. Now he sat beside her, dozing in his chair.

She carefully closed the door with a click. Now she would go check on those babies and see how they were doing. She had much to do before she would sleep tonight.

“The sun is rising”, Cordell remarked unnecessarily.

The length of his sword was stained red by the eery morning light, as though it had already been rammed deep into the body of his enemies.

Garrick could see that the sun was bloody well rising. In fact he was entirely sick of Cordell’s incessant commentary on everything. And as for waving that ruddy sword around everywhere like he was some sort of ancient hero, it was really a bit much.

Garrick had been enjoying an extremely pleasant sleep indeed, free from the terrible nightmares that had haunted him for months on end. His best friend these days was a frothy tankard of ale. A few of these (well perhaps slightly more than a few) and no longer could she scamper through his dreams, tangling her tiny cold fingers in his beard. He was free.

Now he had been wrenched from his warm bed, dragged from the arms of his sleeping wife and made to tramp around in the cold for hours on end, when probably the good Father and the Countess were holed up in some warm corner of the ship, while he had to search about the whole blasted countryside for them.

He stole a quick glance at Radomir, though the sideways movement of his eyes in their sockets caused an intense flash of pain and nausea to ramble through his body.

The man’s craggy face was set in an impenetrable expression, although if one looked closer they could notice the tiny movement just above his massive jaw as he rapidly clenched and unclenched his teeth.

Garrick would never have believed it to be true, a priest! And the Countess who had always seemed to him to stand above them all, unreachable on her pedestal of purity, looking down in vague amusement as they clumsily stumbled through their dirty mortal lives.

He had not noticed anything strange between them, but Cindra with her sharp eyes had remarked that the kiss the Father had given her that night under the mistletoe was anything but pure.

Thinking of Cindra he realised that in fact she had not been sleeping when he left, but sitting in up in bed, her eyes red and bleary. When he had kissed her farewell her face had been warm and clammy, sweaty curls plastered to her forehead. Perhaps she had another nightmare, he mused. She seemed to be sleeping very badly these days. It was probably the baby, it was more restless with each new day, and he knew it would not be long till it came.

And here he was parading about in the early hours of the morning with a thumping head and a churning stomach. He sniffed with irritation.

“Ouch!”, he cried causing Steen to turn to him with an inquiring look on his honest face.

“I have icicles growing inside my nose it’s so damn cold out here!”, he exclaimed in annoyance.

Steen snorted, “Yes me ‘Lord, fer sure it’s bein’ terrible cold out here”.

He winked at Garrick conspiratorially, chuckling softly, “And I must be confessin’ I also have them nasty little bastards bein’ frozen up in this here nose of mine. Tis’ bein’ a most unpleasant experience. Not painful mind yew, but sort of prickly”.

“And my head Goodman, my poor aching head. Had I known we would be prancing about in the wee hours with swords and torches I would not have had so many tankards of ale last night”, he rubbed his head, scrunching his face into a grimace of pain for emphasis.

Steen nodded sagely, an expression suggesting that he was remembering the mornings he had awoken in a similar condition.

“Oh my God!”, they heard Cordell cry out further ahead and both he and Radomir broke into a frantic run.

Garrick’s sword was instantly from its sheath, the cold of weight of it reassuringly in his grip. His tender conditions forgotten he ran forward, his feet pounding into the soft snow beneath.

He saw what had drawn Cordell’s outburst lying up ahead, half sheltered from the snow by the folds of the worker’s tent. They were together, it was as he had expected.

It was strange that they hadn’t chosen a warmer rendezvous spot. It had been a bitterly cold night and Garrick knew from personal experience that there were plenty of hiding places throughout the ships. Cindra and he had explored quite a number of them.

Cordell and Radomir reached the huddled figures first, standing there for a moment. Garrick noticed Cordell’s sword drooping uselessly at his side. Then his addled brain realised how strange it was that the two had not responded to the men’s cries, how strange it was that they had lain there in the snow all through the night.

Radomir gave a strangled sob and fell to his knees beside one of the figures.

Reaching the others Garrick saw that he was crouched beside the unmoving figure of his wife.

Her skin had always been pale, but now it was completely bleached, the only colour leant by the cuts and bruises that covered it. Her soft golden hair was spread about her still-beautiful face. Her arm was entwined with that of the Priest’s whose face was also drained of colour, but there were no visible signs of violence on him. He looked peaceful, his features soft as though he were merely sleeping.

The whole scene was stained a bloody red by the pallid rays of the winter sun, struggling their way through the branches of the dead trees around.

“Oh God… Valeriya… what has he done to you?”, Radomir sobbed between his clenched teeth.

He had grabbed her limp bod, wrenching her arm from Harndall’s and pulling her against him.

Her head lolled away from the large body beside, back towards where Harndall lay and Garrick could see the large, wound on her throat.

“My poor darling… my poor Valeriya. He will pay… he will burn in hell for what he did!”, Radomir was muttering, his face twisted into an ugly grimace as he began to roughly stroke her body with his large clumsy hands.

Suddenly her eyes snapped opened, and she gazed directly up at Garrick in mute horror.

She moaned, recoiling from Radomir’s touch as he began to pull her closer to him.

“She’s alive… thank God she’s alive!”, Radomir cried yanking at her body as she lost conciousness again.

“We have to get her back to Goodwife Cade! She will know what to do. Come on you fool! Don’t just stand there like an idiot. Bring the torch this way!”, he growled to Steen who was standing nearby an expression of shock written across his features.

He pulled Valeriya roughly from the ground wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Didn’t you hear me! Move you imbecile… the Countess needs assistance immediately”, he roared at Steen, clutching tightly at his wife.

She began to whimper, struggling weakly away from his broad chest but he only clasped her to him with more force.

“Don’t worry darling… you’ll be alright. Your Radomir is here now and I will take good care of you. He can’t hurt you anymore. You are mine again now”, he murmured to the shivering girl in his arms.

Garrick had to suppress a shudder staring at the wildly, possessive and disturbingly jubilant look that stole across Radomir’s face.

“I trust you men can take care of his body”, he hissed, gazing with loathing at the forlorn crumpled figure of the priest.

“Come on, let’s go… you walk ahead so I can see where I am putting my feet!”, he ordered Steen and the they trudged off into the snow leaving Garrick and Cordell with the body of Harndall.

Garrick turned back towards Cordell who was still standing above Harndall, staring oddly at the corpse at his feet.

Suddenly he straightened up and shouted, “Garrick! He just moved… he’s alive too! Only his breathing is very shallow, I did not even see it before”.

He fell to his knees beside the priest, gently shaking his shoulders, “Father… Father, can you hear me?”.

There was no response, but Harndall’s hair slid away from his face a little and both men noticed the neat puncture marks in his neck.

“It looks like things aren’t exactly the way they seem here”, Cordell said, once again irritatingly stating the obvious.

He began to carefully put his hands beneath Harndall’s prostrate body.

“Come on Garrick… will you help me lift him?”.

Garrick sighed and bent down, on creaking knees to get a grip on the man’s body. It had definitely not been the morning he had expected.

Alexis did not know how many hours he had sat there beside her, listening to each laboured breath as it rattled in and out of her chest. It seemed to him that time did not matter anymore, all that was important now was this room, the chair he sat in, the swollen form of his wife and the bed beneath her.

And the lamp, the little, green glass lamp sitting on the table shedding the only light into the dim, musty room. Perhaps that was the most important thing of all, he thought, for without it he would not be able to see her little face in the dark. It had certainly been important to her, a gift from her beloved father from some far off land he had travelled to. When he told her they must flee, among the woman demanding chests of dresses all she had asked for was her lamp and her cat. He had managed to save some of the dusty volumes she had lying around and bring them too. Oh, the look on her face when she saw that he had brought them. And what she had done to him afterward.

But now the pretty, green lamp only cast ghastly shadows on her fever flushed face, illuminating the hollows or her cheeks, the strands of red hair stuck to her clammy face and the dark shadows beneath her eyes. She was still beautiful, as she lay there in the embrace of Death himself. Alexis was a jealous man, Morven a faithful wife, but Death was a lover no woman could refuse. Even now Alexis could picture the skeletal fingers gently stroking her face, her body wrapped in his bleached arms.

And his son! Their baby. He had not even known him yet, it seemed far to cruel that Death should take them both from him now.

“God!”, he sent out a silent prayer clasping his hands together piously, “I know we haven’t always been on the best of terms and I am not a good man. But please do this for me… for her… for our baby. Please spare them. I cannot live without her”.

He thought for a moment, “If you spare her now I will be a good and faithful husband for the rest of time. I promise to shun other women… please… I am begging you… don’t take her from me”.

He started as Morven groaned next to him. Her face was a contorted grimace of pain, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. He reached out timidly and stroked her face, his hand resting on her chest feeling the desperate pumping of her fading heartbeat.

“Oh God!”, he sobbed, jerking his hands away and burying his face in them.

He wept hard and long, washing away layers upon layers of grief. But never did he come to the final surface, it was endless, there would be no respite.

He heard footsteps in the corridor and then a soft knock on the door. He hastily dried his eyes with his sleeve. He had cried enough for today.

“Enter”, he called out in a low voice.

The door clicked open and Hepsie walked in. He tried to muster some sort of greeting for her but the best he could come up with was a strained smile.

She was accompanied by a tiny mewling sound.

He looked down at her feet to see the tiny figure of snowflake, squeaking at him affectionately.

“Well, would you look what the cat dragged in”, he said with a wry smile.

“How is she Alexis?”, Hepsie asked gently.

There had been so many days now, so many visits that he had finally been able to convince her to call him by his first name, not Sir Hwratar. He liked the way it rolled off her tongue, the shape of her lips as she made the soft s sound.

“She…”, his voice caught in his throat so he had to start again, “She seems to be in a lot of pain today”.

He was interrupted by a frantic but very small yowling at his feet. Snowflake had run around to where he was sitting, though it had taken her a while and was now throwing herself at his feet, trying to climb onto his boots.

He stooped down and picked up the squirming kitten who instantly began purring ecstatically.

“Can I be takin’ a look at her then?”, Hepsie asked.

“Yes… yes of course”, he answered shakily, clutching the small creature to his chest and moving out of her way.

Hepsie bent over and began to examine his wife, with her deft and practiced hands. He could not help but stare as she worked, she looked so alive next to his fading wife.

As her hands moved over his wife, taking her pulse, feeling her brow, he watched transfixed. Her lips were slightly parted, as she concentrated and he could see the moist inside of her mouth. Her dark hair was tucked neatly behind perfect little ears that he longed to take between his teeth and nibble.

His eyes slid down her graceful neck, the smooth skin of her throat coming to rest on her succulent round bosom rising from her dress. Her breasts were swollen as was her belly from the coming baby, and they did not fit inside her bodice as well as they used to. He longed to pull the ties on that bodice and watch them softly slip out of their containment and into his waiting hands. Her arm brushed against one of them, causing it to bounce slightly before it settled to rest in it former place. He waited with baited breath to see if it would happen again.

Suddenly Morven cried out in pain, awakening him from his reverie. He realised with horror that despite his fervent promise earlier he was already thinking sinful thoughts. God help them all, they were surely damned.

Snowflake meowed worriedly at the sound and was wriggling in his arms, straining towards the bed. He put her on the ground and she ran underneath it.

“Alexis”, Hepsie was saying to him, “I just need to be examinen’ beneath the sheets. Yew might want to be turnin’ around”.

He did this, grateful to be able to hide the blush that was rising in his face, and to turn his sinful thoughts away from her.

“Alexis… yew can be turnin’ back now”, she said, carefully smoothing the sheets back into place.

She looked him in the eye, “I think it’s bein’ time now”.

“Time?!”, he squeaked, bile rising in his throat.

“Time for this here baby to be born is what I’m meanin’”, she hastily replied, seeing the look of terror on his face.

She walked over to him and gave him a quick squeeze on the arm, “Yew’d best be sendin’ fer the other women… and perhaps some menfolk to wait with yew”.

Her little face was so open and beautiful he felt a pang of love for her at that moment. She was taking care of his wife. Surely Morven would be alright if such an angel was watching over her.

“Will you take care of them for me Hepsie?”, he asked his voice thick with emotion.

“Of course I will yew silly man… “, she smiled sadly at him, “Now yew best be gettin’ goin’ then”.

“Can… can I kiss her first?”, he asked, trying not to let out the sob that was building in his chest.

“Of course”, Hepsie said, “I’ll just be being outside the door… yew best come too little one. This ain’t no place fer the likes of yew”.

She bent down and scooped the small, white kitten out from under the bed and left the room, softly closing the door behind her.

He crept over the bed and leant down planting a soft kiss on his wife’s fevered brow. She moaned, turning her burning face away from his lips.

“You’ll be alright Morven my love, be strong like I know you can. I love you”.

And then he left the room as tears began to run down his cheeks.

“Why isn’t she bein’ the most precious little thing yew ever did see?”, Hepsie asked while making silly faces at the baby.

“I don’t know Hepsie… I can’t see her”, Gena replied softlly.

“Oh listen to me openin’ my big ole silly mouth… sorry love”, Hespie said sheepishly, “well then… the most precious darlin’ thing yew ever held, and smelt… she probably tastes wonderful too… maybe I’ll just be givin’ yew a lick little darlin’ see if yew be tastin’ like candy”

She moved towards the baby, who looked extremely concerned by this turn of events. Gena could feel her squirming in her arms and she held the baby close, resting it on her shoulder.

“She doesn’ like that sorta thing Hepsie”, Gena scolded with a quiet laugh, “she’s a neat little thing ain’t she. Didn’ like her papa’s big grubby paws on her and she certainly doesn’ want to be licked”.

There was a sharp knock at the door.

“Well who on earth could that be knockin’ at this hour… ooh I hope it’s bein’ my Steen… I could use one of his big bear hugs right now. Mebbe he can scoop me up in his big ole arms and carry me home. I’m bein’ that tired I don’t think I can even climb up into the wagon”.

She went to open the door, and Gena focused her attention on the warm child snuffling softly in her arms, its tiny face pressed into the crook of her neck. She had never been allowed to hold a baby before, people back home had assumed she was dull as well as blind and had told her no because she might drop it.

She could not believe that in a few short months she would be holding a baby, just like this one, but her own in her arms. She had to admit that after attending Darina’s labour she wasn’t feeling too confident about her own. There had been too much screaming for her sensitive ears and she could still smell the blood on her clothes, even though she had cleaned herself up. But if this was the result of such efforts then she was willing to go through them again and again, just to be able to hold her own dear sweet baby in her arms.

“Perhaps you two can be friends”, she whispered softly to the baby in her arms, and that within her swollen belly.

“Well look who it is”, she heard Hepsie cry as she opened the door to the cold.

“Well I heard that my first new subject had almost arrived and I had to ride over here and sight it myself”, to her suprise she heard the cheerful voice of the King.

She panicked slightly, clutching the baby tighter to her chest. The King and here she was covered in grime and blood from the birthing, her hair an absolute mess and her stomach so large she didn’t know how she would be able to curtsey for him.

“Can I come in or does Sir Cade who his guarding the door deem me unworthy”, he sniffled theatrically, “Please let me come in Sir Cade… it is so very cold out here and my shoes are wet”.

“Of course of course yer Highness… look at me standin’ in the doorway like a goose and blockin yer way… come in where it’s nice and warm… sort of”.

She moved out of the way and the King strode through the door. Gena thought she would pass out at the sound of his heavy footsteps, but reminded herself that she was holding the baby and willed her legs to remain steady.

“Who’s bein’ at the door at this time of night?”, Darina shouted from the next room.

“Er… umm… the King”, Hepsie replied with resignation.

Gena knew what was about to follow. Hepsie had told Darina she must be confined to bed for a few weeks, but she had mentioned to Gena that she had only given such extreme advice because she knew Darina would not follow it. If she had told her she merely needed to take it a bit easy then Darina would have ignored her completely and probably worn herself out. At least now she might be convinced to rest a little.

“I’m coming out… hang on a minute”, her voice came from the other room, “Engin help me with my dress!”.

“No Darina… yew need to stay in bed like I told yew!”, Hepsie called back.

“No, no it’s fine… I’ll be just a minute! Engin be careful!”

“Well is this the newest addition to my Kingdom”, Eallair said standing just in front of Gena.

“She’s very small”, he whispered conspiratorially with a grin on his face, “but I guess babies usually are”.

“Actually she’s quite a good size for a baby”, Hepsie said, her shoulders slumped in defeat, “She’s a perfect little thing ain’t she… look at those teeny tiny fingers n’ toes”.

Gena stood stock still, trying not to draw attention to herself.

Then she heard the door to the other room click open, and Darina come through with Engin following closely. Darina paused in the doorway and Gena had the eery feeling that the woman was staring directly at her. Her face began to grow hot with embarrassment.

“Yer Highness”, she gushed, “What a wonderful surprise… did yer come all the way out here to see our little Aisling?”

Aisling, what a pretty name, Gena thought to herself absent-mindedly and was startled when she heard Darina’s voice beside her.

“Can I be havin’ my baby then Gena”, she said, her voice low.

Gena handed her the baby and quickly walked to the opposite side of the room, hoping the darkness would hide the flush that had crept over her cheeks.

She heard everyone cooing over the baby, the King congratulating Darina and Darina bragging proudly about the newest addition to Mhalwae.

Gena was glad they were ignoring her. She was happy to stand her face turned to the window feeling a cool breeze coming through between the cracks. She was frightened that she would draw this kind of attention when she had her baby. She didn’t want any people to visit her, with their raised voices and racous laughter. She didn’t dream of Kings knocking on her door and congratulating her. She just wanted to be allowed to sit somewhere quiet holding her own baby in her arms.

Engin was so nervous he could not sit still. He sat on the chair, drumming on the table with his fingertips, adjusting the collar of his shirt, pushing the hair that fell into his eyes back into place. He looked up at the door every few minutes willing someone to walk through, to end his suffering.

He had spent the last few hours listening to the dreadful screams that were coming from the room where his wife and the other women were. It had been a long time since the cries of pain had ended and now there had not been a noise emitting from the room for almost half an hour. He thought there should be the squalling of a baby, the moaning of his wife anything to still his thumping heart, but all was silent.

He heard the door quielty clicking open and soft footsteps as Gena carefully maneuvered her way through it. In her arms lay a perfect little baby, its arms neatly folded over its belly. He could do nothing but stare, unable to believe that he and his wife had made this tiny creature.

He blinked for a moment and then stood up so quickly the chair almost crashed to the ground and he had to grip it in one hand to stop it from falling. The small person looked at him with wide alarmed eyes.

“Is… is he bein’ arright?”, Engin asked amazed, standing next to the table unable to cross the space between them.

“Yes… yes… he’s being just fine”, Gena chuckled softly, “except he’s bein’ a SHE”.

“A… a girl?”, he asked confused.

In his head he had been prepared for a boy, someone he could teach the ways of the farm, to go fishing with who perhaps would be just as bad as he. A boy who would inherit all this from him one day. He didn’t quite know how to respond to this unexpected news. He stood a couple of feet away from Gena and the baby, his arms hanging rigidly at his sides.

“Would yer like to be holdin’ the wee thing?”, Gena asked gently.

He thought she must be able to sense his discomfort, his terror that he might break this small, fragile thing that God has somehow seen fit to place in his big, clumsy hands. A boy would have been more durable, he thought, but maybe a girl was too delicate and he shouldn’t be allowed to hold her.

But Gena was holding her out to him. He stared at her not moving at all for fear he would scare her. He could not help but think she was drawing away from him, he body cowering back towards Gena’s. Of course she would be frightened of him. He was so big and ungainly and she, she was so very small and perfect.

“I… I don’t think I can”, he said, his voice trembling.

“Don’t yew be bein’ silly then… if I can yew can and she’s yer little’un”, Gena said in a no-nonsense voice that Engin thought she must have inherited from Hepsie.

“Here yew go… just put yer hand behind her head and she’ll be fine”.

And then suddenly there was warm baby in his arms, staring up at him with his own big brown eyes. Her head was bald apart from a few wispy strands of fair hair, the same colour as his.

“She… she looks like me”, he marvelled.

“Well I don’t know what that looks like silly, but I sure hope she isn’t looking exactly like yew… maybe she has some of her mother’s traits”, Gena smiled despite herself, looking pleased at her small joke.

Engin realised he had never spent any time with the woman, disliking her based on principle. He had always thought the worst because of the way he felt about Noah, but right at this moment he was so grateful for her presence he could have hugged her.

He held the little girl a bit closer so he could look at her face in the fading light. She began to squirm in his arms, raising a tiny hand in protest.

“What?”, he asked, directing the question to both the baby and Gena, “what’m I doin’ wrong?”.

The baby was now beginning to whimper and make distressed snuffling noises, gazing up at him in horror.

“Maybe yew should take her back now”, he said thrusting the upset baby into Gena’s arms, “she doesn’t seem to be likin’ me much”.

“What are yew doin’ to that baby of mine yew silly man”, he heard a voice call from next room.

Darina! He had been so focused on the baby he had not even asked how she had fared. Now he hastily walked towards the other room, leaving Gena to comfort the baby.

He stood awkwardly in the doorway. His wife was talking to Hepsie who had a grave expression on her face. She looked exhausted, her face pale and drawn, her red hair clinging damply to her clammy face.

He grinned stupidly unsure of what else to do.

“Are yew arright Darina?”, he turned to Hepsie his brow crinklilng into a worried expression, “Is she arright?”

Darina looked up at him and smiled wanly. He glanced at Hepsie and saw she was staring at him intensely, a severe look on her face.

“Yes she’s bein’ fine”, Hepsie answered before Darina could open her mouth, “but she’s lost a fair amount of blood and that means she’s goin’ to be needin’ lots of bedrest in the next few weeks”.

“Which means”, she continued, “yer goin’ to have to take over a lot of the housework while she takes care of the baby. And yew can start by gettin’ some firewood fer that there stove of yers. Yew don’t be wantin’ that baby girl of yers to get cold then do yew?”

“Now, I’ll be leavin yew two fer some alone time. Yew need to choose a name fer starters. We’ll get the baby cleaned up while yew rest a bit Darina”.

She gave Engin another meaningful look and carefully shut the door behind her.

Hepsie could hear Gena behind her as she cheerfully asked Darina about the dress she was making. The wheel was clicking rapidly between her deft hands and Hepsie had to admit that Darina was indeed a skilled seamstress.

Darina snapped at Gena by way of an answer and Hepsie sighed softly. Darina was always being mean to the poor girl. She thought it was some misguided form of jealousy or resentment that Gena, a blind girl had managed to do just as well as her in life. She knew Darina was one of the people who considered Gena to be a useless burden on their small society. But if she only opened her eyes a little, Hepsie thought Darina would realise that Gena worked just as hard as the rest of them, often even harder in some attempt to prove herself worthy.

She sneaked a look at Gena though she always felt a bit ashamed to do so, like she was stealing something from the girl. It was one thing to look at someone when they could meet your eye back, but to look when they could not know, that felt somehow rude. Gena’s misery at Darina’s snippy comments was written all over her pale face. One of the affects of never having been able to see herself, Gena’s moods were always easy to read. Hepsie found this endearing, Gena was so open and desperate for affection, she could not help but give it freely.

She bent over the steaming bucket, glad to plunge her cold hands into its warm depths. She had always liked washing the dishes and it was exceptionally pleasant on such a frigid winter day. She thought that Darina’s little house was a tad to cold, especially since Engin had not collected enough firewood to warm it properly.

“He had better do it soon”, she mumbled to herself. That baby wasn’t going to wait for firewood.

Hepsie and Gena had made the journey to Darina and Engin’s house in a wagon, since Gena was so far along. They were staying with her until the baby came, making the tiny house extremely cramped. Hepsie thought she would be very glad to get back to her little room on the ship with Steen.

She shifted her weight. Her ankle was aching severely with the cold. It seemed to finally be healing and she could hobble about on it now without a stick, but it was still causing her a lot of pain. She had resigned herself to the fact that she would be limping for the rest of her life.

And she thought irritably, not only was her ankle aching, but her back too. She did not know how the other two women were managing to carry the weight of their babies. Her belly had barely begun to swell and already she was beginning to feel exhausted. Maybe that was due to the little one inside her spending the majority of the night kicking, or as Steen like to call it barn-dancing. It certainly felt like it was dancing and as she had repeatedly lovingly scolded it there was not room in there for such shenanigans.

Darina heaved to her feet and began to rub her neck and back.

“I tell yew what”, she drawled, “my neck be achin’ something terrible today… and me back… don’t even get my started on that”.

Hepsie felt a little sheepish for complaining about her pain in her head. She could not imagine what she would be feeling like when she was as far along as the other women.

“Ooof… and it sure be painin’ me today… feels like the little blighter is trying to win a kickin’ competition”.

She rubbed her belly thoughtfully, with an odd expression on her face. Hepsie turned to stare out the window.

“Looks to me like we might be gettin’ some snow today then, what with those black clouds gatherin’ out there on the horizon”.

There’s lots of sticks out there perfect for firewood too, she thought to herself.

She heard a scraping noise, and then some fumbling as Darina suddenly pushed herself out from behind the spinning wheel.

“Are yew alright then there Darina”, Gena asked kindly.

“Of course I’m bein’ arright you stupid girl”, Darina spat back at her.

Hepsie was surprised by the venom in the women’s voice. She knew Darina could be mean but she was not usually so cruel.

She turned to look at her in time to see the older woman’s face contort into a grimace of pain.

“My goodness”, she cried out of breath, “I don’t think it’s supposed to be feelin’ like that”.

She cried out loudly and clutched at her large stomach.

“Hepsie!”, she almost screeched, “I think there’s bein’ something wrong with the baby… it’s painin’ me so much”.

She clenched her teeth and Hepsie could hear her breath whistling through them in ragged gasps.

A large smile spread across Hepsie’s face.

“Now yew just be breathin’ then Darina love… there’s bein’ nothin’ at all wrong with yer baby. It just wants to come and meet yew now is all”.

She wiped her hands on her apron and began to hobble across the room.

“No… No! I don’t think it should come now… I’m not sure I’m bein’ ready for it… I’m arright now… it’s not hurtin’ so much anymore… I… aaaagh!!!”

Darina leant her head back and howled as another contraction hit sending waves of pain rippling through her body.

“Of course it should be comin’ now love… it’s been bakin’ inside yew for well and truly long enough and it wants to be seeing this big ole world now”, she couldn’t help but grin wider at the thought of the first little Mhalwae baby to be born.

She turned to Gena, “Gena love… I’m going to be needin’ yer help now… how about yer go and check that the beds all ready fer Darina while I be helpin’ her into the room?”

Gena stumbled to her feet, her heavy belly pushing the table out of the way as she scrambled to help. Hepsie could see she was nervous and guessed by this she had never been present at a birth before. Hepsie thought this rather sad, that the other women back in their old home had shunned her so much she had not even been able to attend a birth. Well it was a good thing she was here so she knew what to expect when her own baby came in a couple of months.

Another shriek came from Darina who was doubled over in pain beside the spinning wheel.

She looked up pleadingly at Hepsie her hands holding her belly, her face terrified and drawn. Hepsie had seen the look before on the face of every first time mother.

“But Hepsie it hurts too much… it aaagh!!!”.

“I don’t… I don’t think I can Hepsie… maybe I’ll just be gettin’ in yer way with my fumblin’”, Gena had jumped almost a foot in the air startled by the last scream.

One hand was clasped to her chest which was rapidly rising and falling, and the other raised weakly in protest.

Hepsie wanted to laugh, stuck here with these two novices in the art of birth but she managed to suppress it. Maybe she should have asked one of the other women along. It was too late for that now. They would just have to make do.

“Yew”, she said to Darina, “Don’t yew be silly… of course ye can have this baby… and anyway… whether yew like it or not baby is comin’ so are you going to let me help yew lie down or not?”

“And yew Gena”, she said, “Yev got two hands I see so yer perfectly capable of helpin’. Now get in that room before I make yer!”

The three men were taking a break from building and Noah had suggested today might be a good day to test out Engin’s pond. The days were becoming crisper as winter was approaching and they feared that soon the water would be frozen and the opportunity for fishing would be gone.

Engin struggled with his fishing rod. He had somehow managed to get the line tangled around his leg and was having a difficult time unwinding it. Noah had brought two rods he had made during the autumn days when it had rained too hard for work on the castle to continue.

The King had finally decided that the castle building must be put on hold. Many of the women on the island were now pregnant and there was fast approaching a time when the ships would become very cramped indeed. So he had set the men to work on building homes for the peasants, which would not take so very long. Engin and Darina were the first to have an almost finished house as their baby was due in only a few weeks.

Engin finally got himself untangled and proceeded to cast with as much momentum as he could muster.

Unfortunately, Engin was no expert fisherman, in fact he had only been fishing once before. He cast with such might that he managed to throw his entire body toward the pond, tripping and sprawling in the mud on his behind.

He heard a chuckle from Steen who was lazing on the side of the bank, content to watch the other men’s attempts at glory.

“You be trying to use yourself as bait for those them fish then are you Engin? I think they might not be finding you such a tasty morsel… they would probably be preferring them worms you attached to the line”, Steen gently teased him, grinning ear to ear.

He looked up to see Noah was also chuckling a Engin’s misfortune as he cast his line in again.

Anger rose in him, his face turning red as he stumbled to his feet and disentangled himself from the line which was now wrapped around his legs again. He would show him, he would be the one to catch a fish and then who would be laughing.

He suddenly heard a splash next to him and then Noah was reeling in a fish.

“I think he’s being just big enough to keep for the eating, what do you lads reckon?”, Noah asked.

Steen congratulated him, but Engin made no sound and sullenly threw his line in this time with a little less force. It did not matter, it was not a big fish and Engin was sure he would have a bit more luck now his line was actually in the water. It couldn’t be that hard after all if Noah could catch one.

It had only been minutes when he heard the familiar sound of reeling and the sploosh as another fish left the water.

He looked over to see Noah holding a large catfish, about twice the size of his last catch. Engin sighed in exasperation.

Noah grinned and laughed, “Here’s a more sizeable one then, look at his face, he sort of looks like you over there Engin with all your whiskers”.

“It seems like you’ve got yourself a fair little fishing pond here you have”, he said to Engin.

Engin did not reply and stared forlornly into the depths of the pool, wondering what it was he lacked and Noah had that made the fish fair jump out of the pond and into his waiting arms.

He was desperate to prove himself better than this man, as he stood there, gripping the rod so tightly that his knuckles began to turn white, a look of fierce concentration plastered across his face.

He stole a quick glance at Noah and saw to his extreme annoyance his face was a mask of relaxed calm. He looked like he was actually enjoying this, Engin thought with a surge of irritation. He would show him.

There was a distant rumble of thunder and a few drops of rain began to fall. Steen leapt to his feet, putting his hands up to feel the raindrops on them.

“I think we better get back to work, it looks like it’s going to be being a big storm and we still have to be getting a roof on that there privy of your’s otherwise your poor pregnant wife is going to have to be going in the rain”.

He may as well have been talking to himself as both men stared fixedly into the water.

Engin heard the sound of footsteps crunching behind him and turned slightly to see his extremely pregnant wife, waddling up the hill like a ship in full sail.

Here was his chance. He would impress Darina and prove himself better than Noah in one moment. As he was thinking this he heard Noah struggling beside him and then there was a monumental splash as Noah brought in the biggest fish he had ever seen. It was massive, its huge mouth opening and shutting as it fought for life. He heard Darina gasp behind him and his heart sank.

“Well Goodman Ulcar, that is by far the largest fish I have ever been seeing with these own two eyes of mine!” she exclaimed.

“I had no idea there were being such big fish in this here pond of mine”, she emphasised the last word and Engin understood where this was leading.

It seemed that Noah did also and he said graciously, “Well it will definitely be big enough to be feeding the two of you for quite some time, perhaps even the three ‘specially if you be smoking a large portion of it.

He smiled generously, and Engin felt the green hand of jealousy wrap around his heart and give a sharp squeeze.

Then he looked at his mercenary wife’s face and realised she was not in fact very much impressed, although she was definitely pleased with her own cunning. He had seen her truly smile and could see this one for what it was, so brittle and false it could snap off her face at anytime.

Suddenly it fell, and a look of annoyance replaced it.

“Do you not be thinking you strong men have had enough playtime and that perhaps it is time to be putting a roof on that there privy… we are not too fond of sitting out there in the rain”, she rubbed her swollen belly fondly and with her piece said, flounced off down the hill.