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.

“Alexis…”, Morven groaned as she struggled into a sitting position.

“Don’t do that love… you’ve been sick, you just lay back down now”, Alexis’ mind was a complete mess, so unexpected was this turn of events and he certainly did not know how to keep his headstrong, ill wife from getting out of bed.

“Hepsie won’t be pleased”, he said as a last resort, he knew he wouldn’t like to incite her wrath having already felt the sting of her slap, but perhaps Morven wouldn’t take the threat so seriously.

She was already pushing the blankets off and sliding a determined foot to the edge of the bed.

“No! Wait stay there love… I’ll come and join you. Then you have no reason to rise at all”, this seemed to halt her progress and he ran around to the other side of the bed, swearing softly as he hit his shin on the way.

He scrambled onto the bed beside her, wrapping his arms gently around her shoulders. She had lost a lot of weight lying there for weeks and he was surprised by how thin she felt in his embrace. But he could barely contain his happiness, and had to remind himself to be careful with her frail body.

“You… you’re awake”, he whispered, his lips close to hers.

She reached up with her wasted arms and weakly held onto his back.

“I thought I had lost you… I…”, his sentence faltered as he tried to hold back a sob that was threatening to break free.

Tears welled up in his eyes, dripping down onto her upturned face.

“You… you silly man, look at you… cry… crying like a girl”, she managed to wheeze with a pained smile.

But when he looked down at her he could see her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

“Pl… please… Alexis… I want to sit up… feels… feels like I have been… lying down for weeks”.

He looked down at her and tried to smile jovially but somehow it failed at the end and came out more as a grimace.

“Darling… you have been”, he said softly, his voice threatening to crack, “Here now… let me help you. Just hang onto my luxurious black locks and muscular frame, and here we go”.

He carefully maneuvered her into a sitting position so she was comfortable with pillows behind her back. This seemed to help her breathing a little and the dreadful wheeze began to dissipate.

She closed her eyes and rested her face wearily against his. He shut his to, gently stroking her arm with the backs of his fingers. Then he had to open them again to remember that it wasn’t just a dream, his wife was awake again, sitting in his arms, alive.

Suddenly her body grew tense and she gave a little sob, “Alexis!… I… I can’t feel the bab… the baby moving anymore”.

She turned to him and he could see the terror in her deep blue eyes, “Oh… oh God… did I lose… lose… the baby?”, she asked desperately, the wheezing sound in her lungs returning with the panic.

“Shhh… shh my love, no you didn’t the baby is fine”, he felt her relax into his arms again, her little face drooping tiredly.

“In fact… both babies are fine. Do you really not remember giving birth. You were very brave, they thought all three of you wouldn’t make it, but you woke up and gave me”, he stopped here for a dramatic pause, “two little sons”.

She gazed at him in astonishment at this news, a look which quickly turned into a small proud smile.

“Two sons… well dearest… it… it seems you were right… about that… feeling of… sonliness”, she broke off here with a croaking laugh that turned into a coughing fit.

“There now love”, he murmured when it had finally subsided, “take it easy, you don’t want to wear yourself out, you’ve had a very rough time of it. I promise I will try not to make any more jokes for a while”.

“I… I don’t think that will… be… likely”, she smiled at him, “Alexis… can… can I see them?”.

“Of course darling, but you just have a bit of a rest now. I will get Hepsie to have a look over you and after that we’ll see what we can do”.

He leaned in to gently kiss her face and then helped her back under the blankets, where her exhausted body found sleep again.

She had been waiting patiently at the door for what seemed like an age. It had definitely been long enough for her tiny tummy to begin to rumble, and she realised it was probably approaching the time when the big mother cat allowed her kittens to feed. Snowflake could partake in this if no one noticed her, which was often the case.

The big mother cat would lie slumped on her side, as crowds of tiny kittens jostled each other to try and get a teat. After everyone was engaged, some kittens sucking away contentedly, while others detached and lay moaning on the floor, their tiny bellies swollen with milk, she could usually sneak in and get a feed. There had been many cuffs from the big mother cat, and scratches from the other kittens however. It wasn’t easy to hide her white coat amongst the mottled colours of the litter.

Perhaps she was waiting in vain, and should go back to the others and see if she could get some milk.

Then suddenly, the door clicked open. Now was her chance! She scrambled onto her feet and galloped through the opening as fast as her tiny paws could carry her.

She ran past the big black boots of the man, feeling a little bad for tricking him this way. He was always kind to her, feeding her treats, tickling behind her ears. There were times when he had even let her sleep beside him on his bed, a privilege none of the other kittens she’d met had ever been granted. But she had a mission and it was an important one. The last thing her mother had purred into her tiny ears was that she must look after the mistress. And so she would, but they had locked her out for so many days she was growing desperate. She hoped the man would forgive her.

She almost gave a small meow of triumph as he tromped out into the hallway, but then she remembered she wasn’t supposed to be there and caught it right before it squeaked out. The man didn’t notice her and shut the door behind him.

She ran round the side of the bed to where her mistress lay but then she encountered a problem. The hulking wooden structure soared high above her head and she could see no way of reaching her mistress’ side. She gazed up in despair.

There was nothing to it. She was just going to have to jump. She crouched low, tensing all her muscles as she had seen the adult cats do before they pounced. Then with all her might she threw herself upwards towards the bed. Her little paws batted at the side, wildly scrabbling for something to hold onto to, but it was to no avail and she crashed back down to the floor, hurting her legs when she fell.

She tried this several more times, each with the same result, until her legs were trembling and she could jump no longer.

She slumped down onto her side, staring at her paws in frustration. Why couldn’t she just jump a bit higher? She had seen the big cats do it with such ease and grace and she desperately wanted to be like them. What sort of cat was she if she couldn’t even jump. How would she be able to do other catly things, like catch mice for instance, if she couldn’t complete such an easy task.

She looked up at the wooden underside of the bed, the angular lines seemed to be mocking her and every time she had jumped higher, the bed seemed to stretch upwards on its legs. She noticed the underside of the mattress moving slightly, and the bed squeaked, laughing at her misfortune.

Then she heard a faint moan from above and the mattress moved a bit more, bulging out in some areas, springing back in others. The wooden boards of the bed were creaking more now, a sound of irritation at the movement above.

She suddenly realised what this meant and gave a startled squeak, leaping to her feet.

“Alexis…”, a muffled voice from on high came down to her.

She meowed again in excitement, as she saw one of her mistress’ fingers poking over the side of the bed. She simply must get up there. It was her duty to both her mother and her mistress and she could not fail.

She crouched down again, building up the energy in her legs, wiggling her tail-end back and forth as she had seen the adult cats do, to build the power. This was it, THE jump, she knew she would make it now. She had the incentive, the motivation, she was a big cat soaring gracefully through the air, landing with poise where she wanted.

She took a deep breath and launched herself into the air. She was going to make it, she had jumped higher than ever before, she felt her paws collide with the side of the bed and she began to scrabble for something to dig her claws into. But the evil mattress was mostly packed hay at this point, and her tiny claws could not find a paw-hold. She started to fall and she knew this time she would really hurt herself, her legs would be crushed underneath her falling weight. She panicked, her legs and arms flailing as she fell.

And then something strange happened. Despite her terror, she felt her body twisting of its own accord and then suddenly all four feet was were on the ground and she wasn’t falling anymore.

She gingerly picked up a paw and examined it for damage, but there was none. She licked at it just in case, but no pain shot through her limbs with the rough touch of her tongue. Amazing!

She was just contemplating this miraculous feat when she heard the door open again.

“Alexis… “, her mistress’ voice croaked from the bed again and Snowflake remembered what she had been trying to do.

“Morven!”, the man gave a strangled cry and the black boots stomped around the side of the bed so that she had to leap out of the way to avoid being crushed.

She mewed up at him in the hope that he would lift her up to the bed, but he seemed otherwise occupied. It almost sounded like he was crying.

With a sigh she crawled underneath the chair where she would be safe from those awful gigantic boot-clad feet and curled up. She was exhausted from her efforts and within moments, she was within the folds of sleep.

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.

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.

Harndall pushed open the heavy door and entered as quietly as he could. He knew he was running very late for the meeting but he had found himself unable to leave the distressed peasantry that was residing in the chapel. Valeriya had been right, the people needed him. He had no right to be wallowing in his own misery in his room when such troubled times were upon them. He had put all thoughts of his own inadequacy as a priest from his head and thrown himself into his work. Still, there were nights when he woke up sweating, his limbs twisted in his sheets after dreaming of the touch of her lips.

And now the King had called a meeting to discuss the latest developments. Harndall had already been to see Goodwife Rawtharn after her frightening meeting of the night before. The peasant woman had seemed distant somehow, not terrified as he would have imagined. She had sat and listened to him talk, cradling her small child in her arms, her face blank, answering his questions in a dull voice.

The men had not noticed his entrance yet, so involved in their heated discussion where they. The King had insisted that all the nobility be present for this discussion. Harndall’s stomach turned slightly, seeing Radomir sitting in place between Sir Inbar and Lord Murchadh. He seemed to be the focus of the conversation.

Eallair looked up noticing him standing awkwardly at the door and weakly smiled at him.

“Ah… Father Harndall. I am so glad you could join us. Please… take a seat”, the strain was evident in his voice, which was bordering on exhaustion.

They were all of them tired, he thought, all had spent the day searching for the vagabond that had attacked the poor woman.

The room went silent at the sound of the King’s voice and he felt all their eyes upon him. His hand reached out shakily and found the chair left for him.

He carefully lowered himself into it, glad for its solid wooden build beneath his trembling hands. He felt out of place, he was a man of the church, not used to being involved in discussions of the court. He knew the King had invited him because he had been the last to see Sister Mella before she disappeared and also he had been the only one to get a sensible answer from Goodwife Rawtharn and her distraught husband.

When he looked up Sir Inbar was looking at him expectantly. He felt sorry for the man but wished he wasn’t putting so much faith in him. This was not his domain. Sigurd was someone who came to see him on a regular basis, almost weekly. He had spent many hours pouring his heart out to the priest and weeping on his shoulder for his lost babies. His wife by contrast, came to see Harndall only occasionally and when she did it was simply to recite a list of small indiscretions and receive her penance. He wanted to help the man but he did not know what to recommend to him.

“I just do not understand how we can be so sure that this woman is telling the truth”, Radomir was saying loudly.

Harndall had not seen the man for a long time. He had heard the Earl had been ill and in truth his face looked gaunt, his dark eyes sunken and his cheek bones protruding slightly.

The King and Eallair were staring at him in astonishment.

“Are you seriously trying to tell me that this woman is making this all up?”, Lochan asked incredulously.

“Why would she lie about this?”, Eallair asked obviously confused.

“Perhaps she wants the attention”, Radomir replied, waving his arms in annoyance, “I don’t know… all I’m saying is that we can’t necessarily take what she says as definite truth”.

“I know she is one of your subjects Radomir, but I think we can definitely take her word on this. She may have been confused but why would she have wounded herself in such a way. I don’t think it would even be possible to be perfectly honest. She had a human bite mark on her neck. Unless her husband bit her, which I seriously doubt, we are dealing with an unknown killer on the island”, Lochan retorted, “And even more worrying is it was almost identical to the wound on the dead peasant girl, Nell’s neck”.

“Fine, whatever you say, Lord Murchadh”, Radomir said, with emphasis on Lochan’s title.

Harndall was suprised by his reaction, it was not like Radomir to back down in a fight.

“Do you think she could possibly have been attacked by the same creature as I was?”, Cordell asked earnestly, “I mean she was wandering out in the forest alone and we know there is a violent black dog out there somewhere”.

“But Cordell”, Alexis cut in, his voice dull, “Goodwife Rawtharn was inside the house which makes it unlikely that it was a wild animal. And unless she is totally delirious then it was a man that attacked her. You may be right about the death of the peasant girl though”.

Harndall gazed at Alexis’ face as he spoke. His face was pallid, only serving to highlight the dark bags underneath his eyes. The sparkle that had always danced in his eyes had died, doused by the waters of despair. There were whispers that his wife would not make it to the end of her pregnancy, so ill and swollen was she now. Harndall had spoken with Goodwife Cade who had told him that he should be ready for her when she called, he would be needed straight away. Still Morven struggled onwards, her heartbeat thready and irregular, so weak and exhausted she could not move from her bed. And Alexis sat there by her side, holding her pale hand until he had been summoned by the King himself.

“Are we seriously discussing this!”, Radomir almost shouted, “Violent black dogs! Strange men! We know there is noone else on this island, we have been around the whole place. We would know, especially if there was some nobility hiding themselves here! Where would he be living!”.

He noticed a beetle crawling along the table and squashed it beneath his thumb and gesturing angrily, “You sound like a bunch of snivelling women!”.

“Now Radomir, I think you’re going a bit far, everyone is just putting forward their ideas. There’s no need to get angry”.

The King’s expression was one of open concern, and it was obvious to Harndall that Eallair was having a great deal of trouble controlling the passions of his men.

Radomir made a snorting noise and was silent.

“Do you know what I think”, Garrick added, slurring slightly.

Harndall thought it was odd for the large man to be drunk at such an important conversation. It was not like him, but then again it had been many months since Garrick had last visited him for confession. He had no concept of what was going on his head.

“I think it was one of Faldorn’s men”, he continued without waiting for encouragement, “I think it was a scout sent here and if we don’t find him he will be paddling his way home and the first thing we will see when spring comes is Faldorn’s flotilla on the glowing horizon”.

“And then”, he said sighing melodramatically, “it will all begin again and we will be doomed”.

“This is a good point Garrick”, Lochan mused, “But I think you might be overreacting slightly. If it is one of Faldorn’s men we will find him and make him talk”.

“But it really doesn’t explain why he would have bitten her on the neck”, he said with a puzzled expression on his face, “Actually… why would he have even gone to see her at all. If he was a scout for Faldorn wouldn’t he already be heading back with the good news that he has found us. No I don’t think he’s one of Faldorn’s men. But where he’s from then I do not know”.

“No Lochan, I think you’re wrong! He was definitely one of Faldorn’s men and every moment we sit here on our behinds is more time he has to gather information and leave the island. We should be out there searching for him right now!”, Garrick glared at him through squinted eyes.

“Men, men… you all have excellent, valid points. But there is nothing we can do right now. It is pitch black outside and there is a blizzard raging. If he is one of Faldorn’s men he won’t be going anywhere tonight and we will find him tomorrow. If not then he won’t be going anywhere anyway and we will still find him”.

“But your highness”, Sigurd piped up timidly, his eyes wide like those of a startled deer, “Should we be worrying about our wives… it seems to be the womenfolk that this man, if that’s what it is, is going after”.

“Ha…”, Radomir chortled, “You’re worried about our wives being eaten by some strange creature eh? Don’t you think given the current company you should be more worried by the danger posed by your own little creature that likes to come out in the dark. It seems like that’s what’s doing the most damage to our womenfolk these days”.

He looked pointedly at Alexis who reeled back as if he had been punched. Harndall had often spoken with Alexis, the young man seeming to find it humourous to regail the Priest with all the sins he had commited each week. Harndall knew from these conversations that Radomir despised Alexis. Alexis had often laughed about this, claiming that he had stolen Morven’s heart from the blackened claws of the beast. In reality both men had asked for her hand in marriage, but Morven’s father, unlike most had given her the choice of the two and she had chosen Alexis. Wisely, Harndall though with a sigh, an image of Valeriya’s sad face appearing in his mind. She was a lucky girl to have been given the right to choose.

“Oh… oh Alexis… oh my goodness. I am so sorry. I… I really didn’t mean anything by it. I didn’t mean to say anything wrong. Oh… I am so very sorry”, Sigurd turned to Alexis, wringing his hands with a distressed look on his face.

Harndall wished he would be quiet. He had not said anything and perhaps Radomir’s comment could have been ignored, but Sigurd with his bumbling was making it a million times worse.

“No… don’t be silly Sigurd. It’s fine… you haven’t said anything wrong. It was just a joke. I am sure noone meant my Morven”, his voice cracked when he said Morven, and from where Harndall was sitting he could see Alexis’ lip trembling underneath his neatly trimmed mustache.

“Sorry… I… I think I have something in my eye”, he said, rubbing furiously at his eyes with his sleeve. From where Harndall was sitting he could see the tears welling up in Alexis eyes.

“Well”, Eallair said stonily, “I think this conversation has gone on well and truly long enough. We will spend tomorrow searching again, the same groups as today. We WILL find this man. I am sure of it. Now go and get some sleep. I will see you all in the morning”.

Alexis managed to carefully maneuver his way through the door, despite the weakly struggling, mewling bundle in his hands. He looked down at the tiny creature amazed that it had survived. He had spent the entire night sitting beside the mother cat, trying his best to help. He wasn’t particularly fond of Boots and he considered this to be women’s work, but he knew how much she meant to his wife and so he sat with her and listened to her yowl in pain as she struggled to give her kittens life. But it had taken too long and most of them had not even drawn breath.

Afterwards poor Boots had licked desperately at their feeble bodies as she lay dying, perhaps trying to instill them with what little was left of her own life. Alexis had felt her go as he gently stroked her shivering back. He had been surprised then, to hear a very small meow from under the pile of tiny bodies. There she had been, alive, the very tiniest of cats and her coat pure white.

He looked over to where his wife lay on the bed, her hands resting uncomfortably on her enormous, swollen stomach. He thought it was too soon for her to be this big. She had not even noticed him entering the room, caught up in her own pain.

He gazed at her pale, drawn face. It was as though the baby inside her was taking her very essence, leaving this pale empty shell before him. Morven had been complaining of chest pains for a month now and Hepsie had warned him that she was not taking the pregnancy well and he must do everything in his power not to upset her. He did not know how he could do that now.

His wife finally noticed his presence and the small creature in his hands.

She smiled wanly at him, “Well look what you have there? What a dear little thing”.

She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment as though speaking were a great effort, “How did my girl do then?”

The moment he had been dreading had arrived. He knew that his wife liked to be told things plainly, and so he did not mess about trying to make it sound better. If he was being honest with himself, he did not know how to anyway.

“My darling heart, I am so very sorry… Boots did not make it. She was very brave but it was too much for her and the babies did not come for a long time”.

His wife stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, then began to struggle to a sitting position.

“Dearest, perhaps you should stay lying there, I can bring this little fellow over to you so you can have a look”.

Morven ignored his pleading and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

She sat there for a moment, panting from exertion, her heavy belly heaving. She had become so weak in the last months that now even such a simple movement was an effort.

“Alexis”, she said breathing heavily, “I want to see her. I want to say goodbye”.

Alexis understood and he would do this for his little wife.

“Of course my darling. Would you like to see this tiny new friend first though?”

She nodded slowly and reached her hands out for the newborn kitten. Alexis handed her the squalling ball of fur. She took it in her hands with a small, brave smile on her face.

“Have you named her yet Alexis?”, she asked softly.

“I thought maybe we could call her snowflake”, he said, “it was the first thing I thought of when I saw her but I guess it is quite a silly name”.

He felt somehow embarrassed but he had already grown quite attached to the little thing and he was worried his wife would tell him it was a stupid name.

Morven managed a small laugh, “It sounds like the perfect name for her my dear”.

To Alexis’ surprise snowflake stopped mewling and began to purr ecstatically as Morven gently stroked her, just as her mother had always done.

Morven gave a small wounded cry and buried her face in the kitten’s soft fur.

The hand he raised to wrap around her body dropped uselessly to his side. He knew that Morven hated for him to see her upset and so he would pretend for her that he did not know. Still, it was killing him to see her shoulders trembling, so he took a step closer until his body was pressed up against her. Her shaking subsided and she began to murmur softly to snowflake.

Now he reached round a hand to gently stroke her swollen belly. His throat felt dry and his hands were sweaty. He had seen now how easily birth and death intermingled. His sigh caught in his throat and he suddenly felt that he might cry. He had finally realised what he had pretending wasn’t true for weeks. He was gut-wrenchingly terrified for his wife and the baby she carried inside her, and once he had opened the gate and fear had stalked through it, there was no shutting it again.

Alexis was watching his wife converse with her pet cat with barely contained amusement.

“Look at you, you poor fat lady”, Morven crooned to the cat, “I bet your feet are really hurting, I know mine are”.

Alexis stared at the enormous cat which was now purring furiously. He had not idea how many kittens were inside that thing, but it looked like it was bursting at the seams with them.

Speaking of which is wife was looking rather rotund herself, despite the fact that she was not due till February. He had been comparing her figure closely with that of the other pregnant women on the island and had come to the conclusion that his wife was in fact, larger than normal. Especially after a thorough visual comparison with one of the peasants Darina, who was the same size as Morven was now, even though he had heard Darina was due in December. He had also noted with joy, that his wife’s breasts had swollen to a much bigger size than Darina’s.

“Maybe you should not eat so much candy and that cat a little less herrings and you would both be a damn site thinner”, he said, chuckling, unable to hide the smile that had crept unbidden from beneath his moustache.

Morven’s face contorted into an expression of mock horror.

“Did you hear what that nasty man said Boots? What a terrible thing to say. Are not men horrible… especially when they are to blame for this uncomfortable state we now find ourself in”.

Boots meowed in agreement. She had not seen the tomcat who had got these kittens on her since that fateful night in the ships hull. She rubbed her face against her mistress, purring louder still, grateful to find someone who understood.

Morven nuzzled her back, stroking her soft, black fur.

“Hey! What about my snuggles… what about my nuzzling”, Alexis demanded from the bed.

Morven looked over at her husband who was lying expectantly on the bed with his hands folded over his naked stomach.

She gently put Boots onto the floor, and turned towards the bed.

“Oof… I just felt the baby kick… what have you put inside me Alexis”, she grinned despite herself, “It feels like it’s dancing the polka”.

She rubbed her belly gently, grinning at Alexis.

“I guess he’s his father’s son”, Alexis said, “I have always been a fantastic dancer… that’s probably why you married me in the first place”.

Morven had started to move around the bed. Alexis lost his train of thought as he watched the slow progression.

He thought he would not have been interested in Morven when she was pregnant, that he would have needed to find his pleasure elsewhere. But he could not have been more wrong. She seemed more beautiful to him now, if that were possible, her skin glowing, her body round and curvy and her breasts deliciously swollen.

She carefully lowered herself onto the bed beside him, “So how do you know it’s going to be a son?”.

“Because I just know these things my dear, call it a very strong feeling I have of sonliness emanating from you round belly”.

He wrapped an arm around her and gently pulled her closer to him.

“Now that I have you all to myself finally…”, he began to gently stroke her stomach.

Suddenly there was a thud on the bed as a furry black creature landed next to them, purring madly.

“Or not”, Alexis sighed.

He did not mind his wife having that cat, he knew that Boots made her very happy. And he was oddly attached to the fat black thing but it always interrupted them at the most inopportune of moments.

“This my dear, is what is known as catus interruptus”.

Morven giggled as he whispered in her ear, “Do you think she will go away if we close our eyes and pretend we don’t see her”.

“I do not know Alexis, maybe we can give it a try”.

They both shut their eyes tightly, but Alexis felt Morven laughing against him and so opened his again.

Boots had squashed herself into the hollow at the back of Morven’s knees, burying her face in the folds of dress.

“Well that worked well”, Alexis smiled, “Well my dear, Boots is just going to have to cover her ears because I find you way too enticing today to be deterred by a small, furry person invading our bed”.

He gently kissed her soft lips, his kisses becoming gradually stronger and moving down her neck towards those swollen breasts.

Boots was exhausted, as she lay curled up on the blankets oblivious to what was going on around her. It was hard work lugging around a belly full of kittens, and she slept soundly, purring softly, dreaming of buckets full of herrings.

Sitting through a church service was a trial even at the best of times, but it was made a million times worse by the embarrassment of sitting through it with her husband.

(more…)