The sun beat down, hot and relentless on Maire’s face as she awkwardly waited with the rest of the crowd that had formed in the small market square. She stood, her back rigid, beads of sweat collecting on her brow. Her eyes were on the man, stripped to the waist, thrown to his knees. His eyes were closed, his hands clasped together in prayer. The crowd was restless, some muttering angrily, others apprehensive and some even seemed excited. The King’s man stood tall and sombre, his gloomy mouth drooping at the corners with distate, his perfect hair slicked back from his shining face.

Behind him stood the Earl with a look of savage victory on his ugly face. A guard hovered expectantly above the half-naked man, a cruel, metal cane held nonchalantly in one hand. The crowd shuffled their feet nervously on ground that was trampled hard by the feet of village goers and the animals they brought here. The sawn off log that Hynde trembled before was slick with blood from some recent slaughter. Freshly killed chickens hung in rows in the market stalls, plucked and naked, their gooseflesh matching the arms of the frightened man that kneeled before her.

And it was her fault he was there.

The King’s man cleared his throat and began in a solemn voice, “We stand here today to enact the will of the Kingdom. One Reynard Hynde is to be punished for his crimes here in the marketplace, on the 10th of July of the year 1103. Reynard Hynde is charged with the crimes of disturbing the peace, inciting a mob with the intent of injuring a member of the nobility and threats made against a member of the nobility.”

His face a blank slate he droned on, “The punishment for these crimes is to be six lashes, doled out by a member of the King’s guard.”

He gave a short nod to the guard, “You may proceed.”

The guard, nodded, a scowl on his handsome face. The cane snapped up in the air, glinting dark and angry in the scorching light and flicked down onto the defenseless man’s back.

He arched forward slamming into the log, an animal groan issuing from between his clenched teeth. His eyes were tightly closed, his face set in a grimace of pain but still bravely defiant. Someone gasped behind Maire.

The cane arced up again through the air, all the force of the guard’s muscular arm directed at Reynard’s back. It hit with a wet thwack and droplets of blood splattered onto the ground beside the kneeling man.

Maire shivered in horror at that impact, her hands flying to her face, trying to cover her eyes. But she could not look away and the cane rained down again on Reynard’s trembling shoulders. He shuddered and moaned at the impact blindly clutching at the edge of the log.

“God have mercy,” she murmured.

Beside her, the ship’s first mate mumbled, “And you people call my countryman barbaric.”

But the cane was soaring up through the air, almost elegant in its smooth trajectory as it hissed through the air to strike Reynard’s back which had grown slick with blood.

He yelped in pain, gasping, panting open mouthed his head hanging low.

He suddenly rose halfway, his eyes snapping open, “Lord, forgive me my sins. Forgive us all. We only mean to serve yew.”

But his eyes were not raised to the heavens. Deep and brown and rimmed with tears of pain that were spilling down onto his freckled cheeks. They were fixed straight on Maire.

The guard growled in anger and threw the weight of his body against the next blow. It sliced into Reynard’s back splitting open the skin in a new welt that dribbled thick, dark blood. Reynard howled in agony, his mouth wide open, a tendril of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth, snot and tears mingling in his patchy red beard. His eyes were still fixed on her, staring and wide, accusing but at the same time pleading.

Maire felt her own tears slipping unhindered down her own freckled cheeks. Surely he had suffered enough.

“Please, please stop it,” she cried through her chattering teeth, the crowd murmuring angrily in agreement.

But the guard was not finished and the cane sliced into the ragged skin of Reynard’s back, arcing up in a welter of blood. Reynard fell forward his forehead grazing the log, slipping in the slimy chicken blood that was coagulating in the heat of the sun.

The guard tensed and Maire realised he was going to hit him again. It had been six already. Maire had counted each one, her jagged fingernails pressing into the palm of her hand.

“Oh please no,” she chattered.

“Enough,” the King’s steward intoned, “it is done.”

Reynard hunched, shivering over the log, his back a shredded mess.

The King’s men walked away, the Earl snorting as he gazed at the injured man. The crowd dispersed quickly, not wanting to help a convicted man, or agreeing with the justness of his punishment. Maire was frozen to the spot, not knowing whether to leave or to rush forward and comfort the man her actions had condemned.

But one man remained, hulking Bryce Ballard who went to kneel beside the hunched man. He laid a big hand gently on Reynard’s arm, wiping the chicken blood from his face with his sleeve. Carefully he helped the unsteady man to his feet, supporting him with one sturdy arm.

Maire crept forward, tiptoeing toward the men. Bryce turned to stare at her, his eyes dark, his face expressionless. Reynard cringed beside him, trying to straighten out his tattered back and wincing in pain as the flesh tore open more with every bend of his back.

“So, it’s you. Little miss tattletail herself,” he mumbled, a groan of pain ratcheting from his throat as he turned toward her.

“I… I’m so sorry. I never thought of this,” she whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes and threatening to spill over her already tear-stained cheeks.

Reynard, sniffed and wiped away some of the muck from his face with his arm.

“Are yew now?” he asked, staring at her with those pitiless eyes, “What do yew think Bryce, do yew think little miss kitchen maid here is awful sorry?”

Bryce grunted, his gaze fixed on his friend.

“I am,” Maire mumbled, blushing furiously, “is there something I could be doing.”

“Yew are, I am, we’re all sorry. We’re all…” he gazed at her with what seemed to be curiosity until his eyes started to roll back in his head and he slumped against Bryce.

Bryce held him steady so he didn‘t fall to the ground, gently slapping his cheek with a meaty hand. Reynard’s eyes flew open.

“Yer bleeding Reynard. Yew need to be stitched,” he rumbled.

“Then there is something yew could be doing,” Reynard stared at Maire, his lips twitching into a half-smile, “I reckon yer owing me a fair few favours. An’ now I don’t got a wife an’ Bryce’s ain’t much to speak of with the sewing needle, if her dresses are anything to go by, no offense Bryce.”

“So lass… how are yew at stiching?”

“Why look who it is… just the neighbour I was wanting to see,” Darina smiled broadly, ushering Adela into her house.

Adela Hynde… never had she met a woman with so many dresses and so little means to buy them. It must just make that Reynard Hynde grit his teeth to have married such a frivolous woman. It was no wonder everyone said he despised her.

But here she was and that was good for Darina, so what did she care if Adela was driving her husband into the ground. They were never destined to rise far anyway, she was just the wife of a farmer after all? While Darina was the only seamstress on Mhalwae. Oh she would surely rise far indeed. She had already been hiding her silver where Engin couldn’t find it to gamble away. She would drag this family into the middle class, by their dirty ears if she had to.

Speaking of dirty ears that girl was looking mighty mischievous. She glared ominously at her and Aisling stopped chewing her hands.

“I’m so pleased yer here Adela,” she babbled on, “yew must have been hearing tell of the great stock of material which they were bringing here on the new ship. All the pretty patterns… why I’ve got simply bolts an’ bolts of them.”

Adela smiled smugly at her, “No Darina, I had not been hearing. I had simply thought to pay yew a neighbourly visit. I certainly couldn‘t be affording a new dress. Reynard would tan my hide he would.”

Sly minx. So she wanted to barter did she. Oh well, Darina could barter with the best of them she could.

“Oh what a shame since there’s being such a shade of blue as would bring out yer eyes it would. Like cornflowers in spring. An’ with a trim little figure like yer own. Oh I could be cutting yew such a fine bodice.”

“Well now,” Adela said flushing pink with pride, “Yew do flatter me Darina, yew do. My figure hain’t been the same since little Isaura was being born, but it’s awful kind of yew to be saying.”

“Now now, I certainly wouldn’t be guessing yew’d birthed any, the look of yew, so young and firm. Not like old Darina here. Those two have taken whatever figure I had and lumped it up like dough,” she patted her flabby belly.

Better to have a flabby belly than to be a pretty, stupid spendthrift with a trim figure. She smiled all the harder.

“Are yew sure yew wouldn’t be wanting a look at those new bolts… they’re being awful pretty?” Darina asked slyly.

“Oh no, I just simply couldn’t be. Whatever would Relnard be saying. This money supposed to be fer flour from the markets. Oh he’d just tan my hide he would.”

“Oh but Adela,” Darina began, trying a different tack, “Yew’ll never guess what I been seeing just early today. An’ I hain’t told a soul yet I hasn’t.”

Adela, ever on the watch for juicy gossip leaned unconsciously toward her.

Eallair gurgled in his sleep. Aisling was staring at him in a way Darina didn’t like.

“Now yew just leave yer brother alone then Aisling or yew’ll feel the back of my hand yew will.”

“Now where was I,” she asked, though she well knew.

“Oh… yew were just going to tell me what yew saw yesterday an’ hain’t told anyone yet,” Adela repeated breathlessly.

“Oh yes, well now… I was heading to the church. I thought to do me a bit of praying, thanking the Lord for the safe passage of the new ship an’ all. I stopped for a moment at the window, to fix my hair in the reflection an’ yew’ll never be believing what I was seeing in there.”

She paused for dramatic effect.

“What were yew seeing,” Adela asked, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. That girl liked gossip like she liked the dresses… more than was good for her.

She leaned down to whisper this last part in Adela’s upturned ear.

“Well if it wasn’t that Father Harndall. An’ with him, the Countess. An’ the two of them embracing like there’s no tomorrow. Right there. In the church. In the eyes of God an’ all. Not a care about their sinful ways. It’s blasphemy that’s what it is.”

“Oh my,” Adela cried, her hand flying melodramatically up to cover her mouth which was trying to smile with glee.

“Oh my indeed yew may say,” Darina cackled, “The nerve of them.”

“But all the things I done said to him. How embarrassing! The things he must have been thinking when I confessed what Reynard an’ I had done. Oh it just makes me blush now, that it does. I knew there was being rumours but I wasn’t sure they was all true,” Adela whined.

“It does boggle the mind, that it does. An’ he seemed such a pious man,” Darina tutted as she shook her head, “who would’ve thought.”

“My goodness… well I do feel like a fool. An’ I said such things,” Adela blushed.

“An yew can be sure now he thought of them after with his hand in his robe yew can,” Darina barked angrily, though she had never had anything interesting to confess.

“Oh Darina, oh he didn’t, oh dear,” Adela blushed scarlet red and giggled, “Oh I can’t bear to think of it. Although fer a priest he certainly wasn’t bad looking. I would hate to think of that old Father Earnulf doing the same.”

“Well yew can be sure yew will now next time yer confessing,” Darina chuckled, “Only perhaps it would be being best not to confess that particular thought eh?”

Adela began to giggle uncontrollably, “Oh stop Darina, now it’s all I shall think of. Perhaps yew’d best be showing me those new bolts of material to be taking my mind off it. The cornflower blue I’m thinking.”

Darina smiled at her smugly. She had won.

“I’ll just go an’ get them dear.”

Maire wished she were anywhere else. She would even have been happy scraping burnt porridge off the bottom of the big, black pot which was the thing she hated most in the world. Anything but sitting here, next to him.

It was all made infinitely worse by the fact that he kept looking at her. Every time she dared to glance in his direction she would catch him staring at her, his grey eyes furtively darting away as they met hers. It was really a bit much. It didn’t help that even when she stared straight ahead or focused on the inane conversation that she could still feel him. She had crept as far from him as possible so she was wedged cosily against Igrayne’s leg. But it didn’t matter, the man seemed to radiate some sort of heat so that even though they did not touch she could feel him. She could smell him too, a dizzying heady scent that was not masked by the steaming roast that was spread upon the table. It was the intoxicating scent of his skin, of his hair that she well remembered from the time she had pressed her face in shame to his muscular chest.

And now he was staring at her. She may as well have been the roast, spread askew on the table for all to see as Kelgar picked up the knife to carve off the first piece.

“Kelgar, do you think that meat smells quite right?” Illewen murmured beside him and Kelgar turned back to mutter softly in her ear.

Maire felt hot and flushed, a rising nausea in her belly that refused to be stilled. She gulped down a slosh of mead which burned her throat and churned in her stomach.

She did not even have to look at him to know that he was looking at her. All of the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as though he had stroked a finger along the soft skin that resided there. She glanced quickly at him and sure enough, he was gazing at her again with a bewildered look on his face.

There was a dreadful wrenching in her gut like the knife twisting into the juicy roast and she suddenly felt like she might be sick all over her plate. The smells of the carved meat wafted on the breeze so thick and heavy she could almost taste the blood on her tongue.

“Mairey love,” Igrayne looked over, concerned, “are you alright my sweet.”

She leaned over and whispered, “Did you drink too much mead, it’s awful strong stuff?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she murmured, swallowing her nausea and trying to smile.

Igrayne eyed Kelgar suspiciously.

Leaning back from the table she tapped him soundly on the shoulder.

“You’re not upsetting our little Maire now are you Kelgar. That would be awfully bad wedding guest behaviour. Or worse… are you a boring conversationalist?”

“I… I don’t think so. Well, that is I hope I’m not,” Kelgar stammered.

Good Lord, what was wrong with the man. Kelgar never stammered.

“Alright then. We’ll forgive you just this once, won’t we Maire,” Igrayne chuckled, “but don’t do it again.”

“Don’t… er what?” Kelgar asked confused, but Igrayne had already turned back to her husband.

Her husband, their husbands, Illewen’s husband. They all had a husband didn’t they. Not Maire. She was the only one at the table who didn’t have a husband.

And she was happy for her friend but right now she would rather have rinsed out beer mugs where the last inch of beer had started to grow fungus on the surface than have sat next to her and listened to Igrayne cooing into Arran’s ear.

“Yew bein’ alright there Maire?” Hepsie called over the table looking all happy with her happy husband and their happy marriage, “yew look a little under the weather. Perhaps some water next love.”

Hepsie was not so much older than her and yet she was happily married with a baby and another on the way. Why was everything so unfair?

Oh God, he was looking at her again. It was more than she could bear. His glance was searing the side of her face leaving a trail of flushed skin wherever it went. She knew it was spreading down over her neck and her breast and for a moment she wished she had not worn this bodice. Already she felt naked under his gaze. He had seen every inch of her before so why, oh why did he have to look at her now. What more was there to see?

“Kelgar, I don’t feel very well. Do you think there’s something wrong with the mead. It smells so sickly sweet.”

Kelgar turned to listen to his wife who was also darting furtive glances at Maire.

This was really getting ridiculous. Wasn’t there anyone else to look at, at this party? Like the bride for instance.

When Kelgar’s gaze fell on her again she decided it was enough.

“Was there something yew were wanting Kelgar?” she grumbled.

He looked at her his eyes wide with shock.

“No… I… no,” he swallowed hard, not looking her in the face now that her eyes were turned upon him.

“Well, yew just look real nice is all Maire. Real pretty. Yew should do yer hair more often like that. It suits yew,” his face was blank, no sly grin of the past Kelgar. No teasing and flirting. Was this even the same man?

“Thank you,” she mumbled, looking down at her hands.

“So Kelgar, are yew thinking’ it’s being a boy or a girl,” Illewen piped in.

“Oh, er… I don’t know. Can yew tell that sort of thing already?”

“I think it’s being a girl,” Illewen sighed contently rubbing her belly, “Matilda felt just the same so it must be.”

Maire felt claustrophobic, the overwhelming happiness flooding the air and the heat radiating from the man beside her making it difficult to breath. She tried to stretch out her arms carefully but accidentally bumped Kelgar with her elbow. He flinched as though she had burned him with her touch.

“Kelgar, I’m really not feelin’ that well. Perhaps there was something bein’ wrong with the mead,” Illewen nudged him, placing a tiny hand on the crook of his arm.

“Let me get yew some water then dear heart,” Kelgar muttered, reaching for the jug.

Maire turned away from them, focusing her attention on Igrayne who was smiling uncontrollably.

“Oh Mairey,” her friend sighed contentedly, “Isn‘t this just the happiest day?”

Arran thought he was going to die. Surely he would die right here right now. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, his mouth was dry and his palms sweaty. He was going to die, right here, right now in front of all this people. There really was no justice.

“Yew alright lad,” Steen chuckled, give him a hearty slap on the back, “Yer about the same colour as yer tunic.”

“I’m being fine,” Arran hissed, noticing the people in the front row beginning to stare, “yew just be keeping’ yer mouth shut alright. I didn’t ask yew to be a groomsman to have yew mouthin’ off the whole time. Just be keeping yer trap shut alright?”

Steen laughed heartily but at least he stopped teasing Arran. Arran stared fixedly ahead afraid to look from side to side. Everyone was looking at him.

There was a sniffle form the front row.

“Yew alright then Gena?” Engin muttered with a grin.

“Yes I… it’s just… well… I’m being so happy is all,” Gena replied her voice choked as she wiped away a tear.

“I think we are all Goodwife Ulcar,” the Baroness called over to her.

Arran was so happy. He was so happy he was probably going to die.

“Oh I love weddings Garrick,” Cindra cooed from the front, “It’s always so happy!”

So very happy. They wouldn’t be so happy when he died right here in front of them from lack of air or dehydration from sweating too much.

There was a hushed murmur from the crowd and they turned to crane their necks as the bride and the Duke came working up the centre. She was barely visible behind the flaming red hair of her bridesmaid which was hanging in soft curls around her face. For a moment Arran was struck by the fact that he had never even seen Maire with clean hair, let alone clean clothes. She looked fresh and almost… well almost pretty.

Suddenly she was upon him, wrapping her scrawny arms around him in a fierce hug.

“Why Arran Barran. I cannot be believing things turned out his way but yew know, I’m so glad they did.”

She clasped him to her again, “Yew better not be hurtin my ‘graney or I’ll be hurtin’ yew, yew hear me.”

“Yes,” he choked and she released him, trotting over to stand beside the priest.

And then there was nothing blocking his view as a beautiful, blonde girl with flowers in her hair slowly walked up the aisle towards him her arms clutching the Duke’s. He couldn’t help the fleeting memory of another beautiful, blonde girl who had swayed up the aisle her arm in her father’s on her face a bright smile.

Igrayne’s smile was more tentative and shy, her green eyes on his face as though searching for signs of confusion or discontent.

“Is this yours,” the Duke drawled, “because I found it on the way here and it looked lost. I thought she might need a home.”

Arran gulped and nodded.

“Are you sure you want him dear, he seems to have lost his capacity for speech,” Lochan murmured a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“Yes,” Igrayne said softly, a shy smile spreading across her face.

“Well then, what are you waiting for,” the Duke quipped, gently pushing her towards Arran.

What was he waiting for, he reached out and grasped her warm hand in his. Her fingers were strong and sure, twining around his warm and comforting. His heart slowed to a normal rhythm. He sucked in a shuddering breath and felt better.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…” the priest began but Arran barely heard him.

Suddenly it didn’t matter that all these people were watching. Suddenly it didn’t matter that his priest was possibly an adulterer. None of it mattered. All that mattered was the small girl standing beside him who had so well and truly captured his heart even when he had thought it broken beyond repair. All that mattered was her warm hand clasped in his.

The priest droned on, Arran barely heard him. He had heard it before but somehow that didn’t matter either. It was as though this were the first time, fresh and new. He was starting again, his heart brand new, the scars faded and gone.

“Repeat after me Arran,” Harndall continued.

And he did all the while fixated on her glowing smiling face, “I, Arran Barran, take thee, Igrayne Woolforth, to be my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, fer better fer worse, fer richer fer poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

She repeated the vows all the while her green eyes flitting over his face as though memorising every curve, every freckle, every flaw.

“Does someone have the rings?” the priest asked tentatively.

“I have them,” Noah’s voice was deep and reassuring. He placed a warm hand on Arran’s shoulder and handed him the rings.

Arran repeated after the priest, “With this Ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, an’ with all my worldy goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, an’ of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

He carefully slid the ring up over her rounded fingers.

As she said the words he watched her mouth move, the way her tongue flicked out when she said thee, the way the scar that ran over her lips tugged at the soft corner. She was so divine, even the scars that marred her face. Somehow they made her more beautiful, like the tiny white star-shaped flowers that grew over the marshes, made more special by the rudeness of their surroundings.

She awkwardly giggled as the ring caught on his knuckle as she tried to push it up his finger. He noticed that her hands were trembling and gave them a quick squeeze as she managed to fit the ring on. It sat comfortably on his finger, somehow right where it should be.

”I now pronounce you, man and wife,” Harndall said with a slight smile.

The sun suddenly passed behind a cloud but it did not matter because his wife stood before him, radiantly beautiful, a glorious smile on her lips.

”You may now kiss the bride.”

”Well come on then,” Maire whooped, ”this is the bit we’ve all been waiting for.

He gently clasped his wife around the waist drawing her close to him.

”Igrayne,” he murmured.

”Yes,” she replied with a shy smile.

”I love you,” it was so simple to say all of a sudden and he wanted to say it again and again for as long as he lived, ”I love you.”

Before she could speak he drew her to him, pressing his lips softly against hers. She tasted sweet like honey, and fresh like rain. She was everything there was and the rest of the world fell away. There was no dry chuckling Noah, no clapping cheering Steen, no giggling Maire, no murmuring crowd. There was just Igrayne and her soft, warm mouth.

”Enough already,” Maire groaned, ”now it’s just getting boring!”

They broke apart, Igrayne giggling in his arms.

He looked down at her upturned nose, her wide, startled eyes.

”I love you.”

”I love you too,” she murmured softly, kissing him again.

Darina was utterly exhausted. Hepsie said she had lost a lot of blood. But what was a little blood? She had a beautiful, healthy boy. Eallair. She would name him Eallair. Perhaps the King would even agree to be his Godfather. A little blood was worth the squirming bundle that lay beside her on the bed, his pink mouth open his brown eyes wide.

She heard the door open softly.

“How are we doing in here then?” Hepsie sang out, drying her hands briskly on her apron.

“Oh we’re being just fine, aren’t we then Eallair? He’s even fed just now Hepsie. Ravenous little monster nearly was tearing my nipple right off,” she smiled proudly at her son.

“Well, I guess that’s being a good thing,” Hepsie laughed, “Though yew might want to be a little bit more careful then Eallair or no food will you be getting!”

Darina wiggled carefully up into a sitting position, wincing in pain as she try to find a spot to sit on that didn’t hurt.

“Isn’t he a beautiful boy?” Darina gently placed a hand on her son’s head feeling the soft, delicate hair that grew close to his scalp, “He looks so strong. Aisling wasn’t this big when she was born.”

“Beautiful he most definitely is,” Hepsie cooed, “and yer right, he is a rather big baby, which is why yer a sitting so carefully there. Yew know the drill Darina. Yew lost a lot of blood. Yer going to be needing several weeks of bed rest to recover. I’ve already told yer husband so.”

“My good for nothing husband. Several weeks and its ploughing time. The farms will be in shambles when I’m out of bed,” Darina growled.

“If you like, I’ll ask Steen to swing by a few times and keep an eye on the farmhands for yew so they don’t run amok,” Hepsie winked at Darina, “it will be our little secret.”

“Thankin’ yew Hepsie,” Darina murmured, still transfixed by the pudgy, red face of her newly born son.

“Knock, knock,” Engin called, “Yer have some visitors who would like to meet the new baby. Can we be coming in?”

“I’ll best be off,” Hepsie headed for the door which opened to reveal her husband and daughter, “Remember what I said. Bed rest! And plenty of it!”

Engin tiptoed in, Aisling perched in his arms her eyes turned flickering to the baby, her neck craning like a curious bird.

“Look there little mitten. That’s yer baby brother. Would yew like to meet him.”

Engin turned and set Aisling down on the bed beside the baby.

“Be careful Engin!” Darina snapped, “she might hurt him.”

“Yew won’t hurt him now will yew Aisling, be careful love, he’s only bein’ little. Good grief Darina, he’s certainly a big baby. He has my eyes!” Engin peered down at the baby beside her, but Aisling was staring up her mother, her eyes narrowed.

The girl was uncanny. Sometimes the way she looked at her…

“Engin. I’m just leaving then. I can let myself out,” Hepsie called.

“No wait, it’s alright,” Engin rushed off to show Hepsie out.

Aisling stared up at her mother, reaching out a hand towards her brother.

“Yew be careful now Aisling,” Darina hissed.

She glanced down at the baby whose mouth was open and gulping like the fish Engin sometime pulled from the pond out back. His eyes were wide and frightened and he began to whimper.

Aisling reached out a deliberate hand and poked at the baby causing him to snuffle and squirm.

As Engin came back into the room Darina deftly swatted Aisling’s hand away from the wriggling baby.

“Don’t yew be touchin’ him with yer grubby hands now do yew hear,” she snapped.

Aisling looked at her for a long moment and then spun around, whimpering, arms wide, “Da!”

In moments Engin had swept the shivering girl into his arms and was gazing at her in concern.

“What did yew do that fer Darina? She was being careful. She’s just a baby. Yer alright then love. Yer alright.”

He smoothed Aisling’s blonde hair back from her face and carefully righted the strands had caught between her trembling lips.

“Yer alright.”

“I don’t want her in here Engin. Take her away. I’m damn tired and me an’ the baby need to sleep now. Take her away.”

Engin nodded sombrely, only his eyes betraying the hurt, “Come on then love, yer ma is needin’ some rest. It’s been a hard day.”

He carried Aisling out and closed the door behind him with a squeak.

Stupid man hadn’t even oiled the door. It had been screeching on its hinges for weeks. If only she hadn’t married a good for nothing…

The baby mewed and squirmed beside her. She reached down and stroked his round belly. At least her son needed her. At least he loved her.

“Oh… ah good day to yew gentleman, an a very Merry Christmas.”

The words rushed out of his mouth, despite the fact that the tightness in his throat threatened to choke them into silence. Castle guards… here. Dogs balls. They must have found out about the sacks of grain he had failed, no forgotten to declare. Even now they were stacked neatly away in the cellar beneath his feet. Curses, he should have hidden them better.

“A Merry Christmas to yew too Goodman Rawtharn,” Osras replied.

They stood there, menacing in his doorway, all steely gazes, metal buckles, hardened mail and pointy swords. Ten thousand shitting cockerel, he could slap himself for being such a fool.

“Now, I hope yew gentleman ain’t been listening to the filthy lies them farmhands been telling yew. I’ve right mind to fire em, spreadin’ their stories and rumours about. Filthy liars, the lot of ‘em.”

He was beginning to sweat despite the chill wind that rushing thorugh the open door, bringing with it a swirl of dizzy snowflakes. A drop rolled down his forward, sliding down the side of his generous nose and dripped onto the packed clay floor. Crap, this was it. He was deep in it now.

“I’m sorry Goodman, I haven’t been speaking to any farmhands. We have been sent by the King to collect Father Harndall.”

“Oh, I see,” Engin replied with a relieved chuckled, hurriedly wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve, “Yew some sort of honour guard.”

“No, not exactly. Can we see him?”

“Well surely yew can.”

He swung the door wide to let them past “Darina love, we got company.”

He heard a faint whimper coming from his feet. Oh the poor little mite. She really did hate it so when they had visitors. And she was just getting used to the Father being there. Engin glanced over at him now, sitting silently at the table, his head bowed, eyes mournfully gazing downwards.

Theysnapped up to meet the faces of the soldiers who tramped in through the door, clouts of snow dropping from their boots onto the freshly swept floor. Darina was not going to be pleased.

“Dada,” a tiny voice mumurmed from the floor.

He bent down towards her scrunched up face. She always squeezed her eyes so tightly shut when she was frightened, as though if she couldn’t see what was causing her fear it would not be there. He wrapped his arms around her small, trembling body and she clung to him desperately as he swung her up into the air.

“Yer alright my girl, yer alright,” he murmured as she buried her face against his shoulder.

“Father Harndall, we have come to collect you at the request of His Lordship the Duke, will you accompany us willingly?”

Though the soldier did not say it, Engin heard the implict threat in his tone at the end. Or will we have to make you.

What in the hairy beast’s name was going on? Darina had been chafing at the bit all morning, desperate to know what had brought priest and the Baroness to their door at such an hour. But to every leading question he had only responded with a soft yes or no and the occasional silent shrug. She had finally given up talking and the silence was broken only by the clicking of the spinning wheel, and the odd irritated sigh from his wife. Aisling had sat on his knee, softly smiling as he brought out his array of funny faces for her amusement. But she did not laugh. She never laughed.

Harndall closed his eyes as though he too believed if he held them shut tightly enough then suddenly the guards would not be there anymore. He opened them with a deep sigh.

“Yes gentleman. I will accompany you willingly.”

He rose unsteadily to his feet, leaning heavily against the table as he staggered towards them.

He turned back to Darina and Engin, “Thank you kindly for allowing me to share this Christmas morning with you. God bless you both.”

“Of course, yew know yer always welcome in our house Father,” Darina replied politely, though Engin could hear the barely concealed curiosity in her tone.

Aisling yawned softly against his chest and he ran his hand soothingly over her golden head.

“Follow me please Father,” Osras led the priest towards the door with Kelgar trailing behind.

They pulled the door shut behind them with a heavy thump, their boots crunching in the fresh snow. Three shadows flitted across the windows, the soft thud of footsteps disappearing into the chill afternoon.

Darina was at his side in an instant.

“What on Earth was that about?” she cried.

“I don’t know love,” he mumbled, absorbed by the warm sleeping body he held in his arms.

“Did yer hear his voice when he said willingly. It was almost though they was arrestin’ him, didn’t yew think?”

“I suppose so.”

“But what could he have done. Father Harndall! A priest! A man of God… arrested. It must have been something’ more than awful.”

“Mmmh.”

“Oh for goodness sake, would yew stop fawnin’ all over Aisling. All that attention’s turnin’ her into a sap. If she’s sleepy put her to bed. Then yew can be cleanin’ that snow off the floor,” she went back to her spinning wheel which started up again with an angry click.

“Alright little mitten. Let’s be puttin’ yew to bed then.”

Darina kept a firm hold on the door frame as she flung it open, ready to slam it again if she saw the dawn light glinting off fangs, or the gleam of blood red eyes half-hidden by the shadow of the house.

But in the hazy gloom of the morning her eyes made out two figures, the Baroness and Father Harndall. The rapid thumping in her chest subsided, the baby growing in her belly giving a few feeble kicks, so that for a brief moment it was as though she had monstrously grown two hearts, both hammering to detach themselves from her body.

She hastily rearranged her features, her fingers loosening their strangle hold, she clasped her hands in friendly glee. The Baroness was still clothed in her Christmas finery the flowing, soft material fell down her body like a dark waterfall. Darina knew this because it was she who had spent so many evenings, squinting in the faint light of the candle, peering down at the needle as she deftly drew it through the heavy material that was draped over her swelling body. Yes, this Christmas had been a lucrative time for the Rawtharns, with the old finery of the nobles growing drab and motheaten in damp, musky chests on the ship. It had been a good year for the Rawtharns, though no thanks to her useless husband. She heard that the Ulcar’s had a barn up (though on inspection it had turned out to be shoddy, all drafts and creaking walls). Thank goodness she had saved enough money to entice another farmhand or two. This year would be different. She was the only seamstress of any talent on the island and there was always a need for new clothing. She could only hope that some contact with the outside world would come before the meagre materials she had to work with completely ran out. Then all she would be was a glorified darner.

“Goodness me, I certainly wasn’t expecting to find yew at my door Yer Ladyship, Father, a Merry Christmas to yew both” she acknowledged them with a bright smile, all the while desperately curious as to why they were here in the first place.

Not only that, but why was the Baroness still wearing her party dress, the Christmas Eve dinner must have been long over. Had they stayed up all night? Darina could only imagine, the steaming plates heaped high with delicious food, the fine dresses that had been created by her very own red cracked hands whirling about in the candlelight. The handsome men in their fine tunics, the bubbling conversation, the laughter, the wine. All of it was so out of reach as to be intangible. She heard Aisling snuffling behind her and felt a brief but powerful stab of hatred for the small girl. What use was a girl with pointed ears?

“Goodwife Rawtharn, I have come to ask you a favour. I hope we weren’t interrupting your Christmas celebrations?”

“Oh goodness no,” she replied, grinning widely,”we had our dinner last night, same as yew. Today is just another day.”

We had our dinner, same as you but it was salted pork and potatoes with a small cup of watered down ale. They had sat silently around the table, Darina’s drab dress with its scratchy material weighing heavily on her knees as she scowled across at her worthless husband while he doted on the small child on his knee who gazed up at him with the barest, starkest adoration. Nobody ever looked at her like that. She had stroked her belly then, a silent plea to the child within that it would be normal and whole and nothing like its father.

“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind if the Father stays with you for a few hours. I imagine it won’t be long, he could just… use the company.”

“Oh, has something happened,” she stared out at the priest, slit eyes gleaming with curiosity.

He looked hagged in the early light, which had come creeping, cold and stark this morning. The chill of impending snow was in the air, a stinging tang that filled the lungs clenching and icy. Harndall’s face was all hollows, each one filled with a pool of shadow. Only his blue eyes, faintly peering out of the darkness, his jaw line set and hard.

“Nothing you need concern yourself with Goodwife. It would just be a great favour to both me and His majesty the King.”

She was absolutely dying to know what was going on, but of course she could not ask this great lady who was shivering on her front doorstep. She suddenly realised that the Baroness has no cloak. What on earth could have happened that she rushed out on a morning like this with no cloak?

“Certainly, Engin dear, Father Harndall is going to be stayin’ with us fer breakfast an’ perraps a bit longer.”

She heard Engin’s grunt of reply as he lifted his body from the creaking chair. She knew he was clambering over to Aisling who was sitting behind her somewhere, whimpering nervously. Stupid girl.

“Thank you Goodwife. You are very kind. Come along Father.”

They trailed into the small cabin, the Baroness regal, the soft folds over her dress, flowing and clinging to her plump body, the Father hunched and shambling, his face sorrowful.

“I must be going now,” the Baroness intoned, “but I will send someone back before long.”

Darina smiled pleasantly, “Of course Yer Ladyship. But yew simply must be borrowing a cloak, the snow’s comin’ an yew must be half frozen.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind,” she nodded her assent.

Beside her, Aisling was snuffling quietly, burying her face in her father’s shoulder, clinging weakly to his shirt while he crooned and murmured to her. She felt a surge of irritation. It was no way to behave in front of a Baroness.

The Baroness turned to Father Harndall, “I will send someone soon,” she murmured.

He looked at her, his face full of grief and protested quietly, “I did not do it Your Ladyship.”

“Then I am sure the Lord will protect you,” she said softly.

What in heaven’s name had the Father done. Darina was desperate to know and she would not stop turning the wheels of gossip until she had found out.

Engin was well and truly sick of the creaking sound that damned contraption made. Lord knows Darina was at day and night, the wheel endlessly turning, her nimble fingers pulling the thread through with an soft, dusty dragging sound that made the hairs on the back of Engin’s neck stand on end. He was actually glad to get outside collecting the meager harvest they managed to get planted before it turned cold last year. Anything to get away from that confounded noise.

“Oh Darina! It’s bein’ no trouble at all. To tell yew the honest truth I’m just glad to get a bit of walk outside, I’ve been feelin’ that cooped up and Juzzy is watching Thaell for a few hours”.

Hepsie was glowing, her smile as genuine as it had ever been but perhaps a touch more radiant. Motherhood definitely suited her. Engin remembered the weeks after Aisling was born, Darina pale and wan, snapping at him from between thin lips. When she had finally let him bed her again, the skin on her belly had been stretched and flaccid, her breasts leaking milk.

He could see that Hepsie’s belly was still swollen but he thought the gentle rolls would be firm if one ran their hand along them. He could always ask Steen but he didn’t think the lad would be impressed. There were some men you could discuss these things with and some you simply couldn’t. Hepsie certainly had more energy than Darina had, had for months after. Though, Darina had eventually gotten it back. Unfortunately most of it was expended making dresses for the ladies and not nearly enough on being a good wife to him.

“Well then dearie… let me just be takin’ a little look at those ears of yers then”, Hepsie crooned reaching her hands out towards the small girl.

Aisling whined and clung to Engin’s arm, pushing herself away from Hepsie’s searching hands.

“Come on then love… it won’t be hurtin’. Hepsie just wants to be takin’ a little look”, Engin tried to pry Aisling from his arms but to no avail. She squealed and clung still tighter.

“Aisling love! Yer alright… she won’t hurt yew!”, Engin chuckled.

But Aisling was not deterred and she clung to him tightly with tiny bunched up fists and then, with a tearful sniff, buried her damp face in the crook of his neck.

He wrapped his arms protectively around her, stroking the soft hair on her head with his big, calloused hands. He had never felt anything like the downy hair that grew in patches, blonde as his own, on the crown of her head. She loved to be held like this, safe against his chest she would rub her nose sleepily against his stubbled cheek. Then he would kiss her, all over her face and neck, the warm scent of her baby skin in his nose. She was beautiful. His little girl. His Aisling.

And she loved him like no one ever had. He knew that Darina had some sort of love for him, in her own shrewish way but it was not like the soft innocent love of Aisling with her patting hands and her occasional careful smiles. She always clung to him when he had to leave, big tears rolling silently down her trembling cheeks.

“Sorry Hepsie… she’s bein a shy little thing she is”, he laughed as Aisling buried her face deeper beneath his hair. Her warm breath was tickling his neck, her hand tugging gently at his beard.

“Oh… it’s bein’ no problem Engin. I wonder whether Thaell is shy. I guess he’s still at the lyin’ about and lookin’ at nothin’ in particular stage. Though I tell yew, he’s certainly not shy about askin’ fer milk that’s fer sure”, Hepsie replied with a warm smile.

“Stop, foolin’ around Engin and let Hepsie be seein’ those ears”, Darina snapped from behind him.

“Alright love, hold yer horses”, he replied, prying Aisling’s hands from his neck and beard and holding her out so she faced him.

“Come on now Aisling, love. Hepsie just wants to be takin’ a little look an’ then yew can go back to yer hidin’. How does that sound? Will yew be good fer yer old Da?”, he asked with a gentle laugh.

Aisling replied with one her rare smiles. It had only been recently that she had learned, one day as he gazed down at her in her crib with what was possibly the most goofy grin a man had ever had the occasion to smile. She had blinked up at him and then smiled shyly. It was god’s own grace that she hadn’t copied his stupid smile, he wasn’t sure she would impress the boy’s much with that one. His heart gave a jealous ache at the though of boy’s and men in his little daughter’s future. He would worry about that later. For now he would be the only man she loved and that was the way he wanted it to stay.

“Well Darina, yew weren’t wrong. They are bein’ rather pointy aren’t they”, Hesie said, examing the tips of Aisling’s ears as she squirmed in her father’s arms.

“I haven’t been seein’ that before but Lord know I haven’ got as much experience yet as me old ma. But I shouldn’t think it’s anythin’ to be worryin’ yerself about. They’ll probably be growin’ rounder as she gets older. She’s bein’ perfectly healthy an’ normal”.

“Perhaps those old rumours about there bein’ fae blood in yer family are bein true after all Darina”, Engin teased with a wide grin at Hepsie.

“Don’t yew ever be sayin’ that Engin damn yew!”, Darina snarled the wheel grinding to a halt with a squeal of protest.

Engin turned in suprise,shocked by the ferocity of her tone.

“Yew don’t know what they been doin’ to my cousin Mable. She was bein’ born with ears like those”, Darina sighed heavily, her face pale through the haze of tiny dust particles that spun slowly in the filtered rays of summer light.

Her shoulders drooped as she continued, “But I seen what they done. She was bein’ the shame of the family. Them scars never did heal properly”.

His baby’s beautiful ears! He hadn’t thought anyone could be cruel to her because of them. He hugged her warm, heavy body closer to his chest, “But her ears are bein’ beautiful Darina… just beautiful like all the rest of her. An’ we ain’t ashamed… well at least I sure as hell ain’t. There the best damn ears I’ve ever seen that’s fer sure.

“People wouldn’ be hurtin’ her would they?”, he choked, the last sentence catching in his throat which was rapidly closing. He swallowed loudly.

“Don’t yew be swearin’ Engin. An’ don’t yew have anythin’ better to do than be standin’ around here. Get yerself outside an’ see to those crops!”, Darina’s voice was hard but Engin thought he detected something wavering beneath and it was this that made him answer kindly.

“Alright love, I’m a goin’. I know when I’m not bein’ wanted. ‘Cept perraps by yew little one… yer goin’ to have to be lettin’ go now”.

Aisling whined, desperately trying to cling to his tunic as he set her down on the floor.

“Yew shuffle over an’ give yer old ma a cuddle then. She be sore needin’ one”, he winked at Darina who scowled back at him.

“Now don’t yew too be worryin’ yerselves”, Hepsie said with a reassuring smile, “It’s a good bunch of folk we got ourselves stuck with on this here island an’ no one would hurt her that’s bein’ fer sure. yew really needn’t be worryin’”.

“Thanks fer droppin’ by Hepsie. It’s was bein’ awful kind of yew, ‘specially with yer little ‘un waitin’ at home. I know how difficult it’s bein’ to leave ‘em behind”, he grinned down at Aisling who was sitting dejectedly on the packed clay floor, her lower lip trembling.

“Oh no Engin, it’s really bein’ no trouble at all”, Hepsie replied, ” I should probably be headin’ off though”.

“Oh Hepsie no!”, Darina interrupted, “Yew must be sittin’ down fer a cold drink while be tellin’ yew who the Baroness comissioned me to work on a dress fer. Yew’ll never be guessin. It think it’s bein’ a terrible idea myself but yew know these noble folk…”

“Alright then, but just for a little while”, Hepsie replied, lowering herself into a chair as Darina began to prattle.

Engin could hear them gossiping as he strode through the door into the hot summer sun.

She was what they called one of they unlucky few. The girls and women who had not had a husband when they came to Mhalwae. The men where scarce and there was not much chance of making a good marriage. There was barely any choice as it was. And for woman of her status there was not one man. She would marry beneath her if she were lucky enough to marry at all. And she was sure she wasn’t, she was only plain Lyiss. Who would want her compared to the other girls? She gazed over at them giggling together and felt even more sure. Soon she would be the only “unlucky one”.

Her brother turned to her and murmured gently, “Are you really sure you want to go along?”

She appreciated his concern but she had already agreed to go along with the other girls and it would have humiliated her even more to back out at this point.

“No… it’s fine I…”, she began softly.

“Of course she wants to come along silly… don’t you Lyiss dear?”, Nyawe was suddenly beside her crowing.

“It is ever so much fun and who knows who she may dream of. To be sure I never dreamed it would be you Garald”, she chuckled throatily.

Lyiss shrank beside her, feeling more plain than ever, her dusky freckled skin fading away next to the pale glory that was handsome Nyawe.

“So perhaps we might not be putting so much faith in it after all”, she mused, “but it is a good laugh anyway”.

“Alright then Lyiss… if it’s what you want…”, Garald muttered but was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Kelgar.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies”, he cried with a flourish.

“It is I who is to be your guide and guard on this dangerous journey of yours tonight. But never fear, I will lead you valiantly to success in your mission and who’s to say by the end of the night perhaps one of you lucky ladies will be a husband richer”, he jeered with a wink.

Lyiss flushed, unable to forget that Kelgar was one of the only unmarried men on the island.

The other girls had begun to giggle helplessly.

“Yer to be our guard good sir… but yer one of them very husbands we may be dreamin’ of tonight if yer bein’ that lucky”, Maire cried boldy while Igrayne snickered beside her.

“Oh I’m not bein’ the only potential man out there for you lovely young ladies. Why just over there by the fire stands our friend Arran Barran and what a fine young man he is isn’t he girls?”

He pointed in the direction of the fire as Arran began to shift nervously from foot to foot, aware that they were discussing him.

“So I think I have a bit of competition eh?”, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at them.

Lyiss began to feel sick and faint, the blush in her cheeks spreading helplessly over her neck and breast. Oh why had she agreed to this. She should never have come.

“If yer could excuse me fer bein’ so daft good sir but if yer to be bein’ our guide tonight then whose to be protectin’ our maidenhood from the likes of potential husbands such as yerself”, Maire cried in mock outrage while Igrayne tried not to giggle beside her.

“That’s where I fit in my dear ladies”, Nyawe chuckled stepping up beside Kelgar, “I will be your chaperone tonight”.

“So you see my lovelies… tonight you’ll be well protected”, Kelgar chuckled, “both from the dreadful beasties that be creeping outside the castle walls and the other beasty that be hiding in a much closer location”.

“A closer location hmmm…”, Igrayne mused, “perhaps we should be playin’ hide and seek and findin’ out that location. I think I be havin’ a fair idea where that beasty is a’ hidin’ I do”.

Lyiss was shocked by their brazen words. They were hinting at things she could only vaguely grasp at, things that were not to be spoken of. She was ashamed to be part of such conversation with her brother standing right beside her. She could feel his body growing rigid beside her as he flinched with embarrassment at his wife’s behaviour.

“Come now ladies… enough of this mindless chatter. Save the hide and seek for later when your in possession of a wedding ring. I believe it is time that you stopped speaking altogether. It begins now. I don’t want to hear a peep out of you or you’ll have to begin all over again”, Nyawe commanded with a hearty laugh.

Maire and Igrayne looked at each other in despair. Lyiss too was wondering how they could manage to stay quiet for the entire time. It would be a much less difficult feat to find seven different flowers than for them to hold their tongues for even an hour.

Lyiss felt her brother’s worried eyes gazing at her. She tried to smile to reassure him but found it all but impossible.

He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Nyawe.

“Come along now sister dear… it’s a husband we’ll be finding for you tonight”, she grabbed Lyiss firmly around the waist herding her in the direction of the other girls.

“Oh but wait… I must be getting a kiss from my own husband first since I’m lucky enough to have one!”

She thrust herself forward, all hips and breasts and lips. Lyiss watched as her brother arched his body away from his wife’s and turned his face so that she collided with his cheek instead of where she had been aiming.

“Alright ladies, that’s done. Let’s be going then”, she said loudly and turned on her heel leading them away from the fire to hide her blushing face.

For a brief moment Lyiss actually felt pity for her sister-in-law. But it quickly faded as she trotted awkwardly behind.

Steen braced his back in preparation, glad to have a distraction. It was Hepsie’s time and each moment his mind strayed over that thought he panicked and forgot how to breath. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation and so he was happy to focus his breathing on moving the heavy stones into position.

“Alright then… one… two… three… PUSH!”

“Yew need to be movin’ it a bit to the left there Sermak”, Engin’s voice whined from behind Steen, “And Arran, yer not pushin’ hard enough… put yer back into it lad”.

Steen was once again glad that he was distracted, otherwise he would have been unable to fight the strong compulsion that was growing in him. He wanted nothing more than to plant his fist right in the middle of Engin’s over-sized nose.

“Okay… now be lettin’ go… well done lads”.

“It be lookin’ a bit crooked from over here Noah… yew might need to be doin’ it again”, Engin said pompously.

Now that Steen’s hands were free he thought perhaps he would just give in to the urge. Just a little bop on the nose couldn’t do Engin that much harm and it would do Steen the world of good.

But as he turned he saw Juzzine standing a little away, gazing at them nervously, waiting till they had finished what they were doing.

His heart was in his mouth, so that he was choking on it, his tongue bouncing around as it thumped and thumped so that he couldn’t manage to say anything at all.

“Er… Steen dear… I think yew better be comin’ with me”, Juzzine said delicately.

Steen managed to untangle his tongue from the wet-meaty lump and blurted out, “Hepsie… she.. I… we… Hepsie…”

Juzzine looked shocked when she realised what he had thought, “Oh no… oh no… she’s bein’ just fine… it’s just well… yew really best be comin’ then”.

“I… the baby… the baby… what about the wee baby?!”, Steen heard his voice growing more and more high pitched until he thought he was shrieking in a rather womanly fashion and tried to compensate with a deep growl.

“The baby”, he finally settled on.

“Oh… it’s not here just yet love… it’s just… well really… yew gotta go there I be thinkin’. We sorta be needin’ yer help”.

In an instant Steen was running through the courtyard, leaving Juzzine and the men behind, scattering chickens in his haste. He ran towards the small room in the west wing where he and Hepsie were staying until their cottage was finished.

The door began to open and he skidded to an abrupt halt, and a chicken that had been desperately running before him gave a relieved squawk and toddled off to the side.

It was Hepsie, her swollen belly swaying beneath her flimsy underclothes as she waddled hurriedly through the door. Gena was following behind, feeling her way along the door frame as quickly as she could manage.

“Please Hepsie love… yew got to be comin’ back inside. Babies comin’ it is”, Gena trembled, reaching her hand around trying to find where Hepsie was standing.

Hepsie looked up and saw Steen standing rooted to the spot, unable to think straight. Wasn’t she supposed to be lying down. Steen didn’t really understand how the process worked nor did he really want to as it terrified the pickles out of him, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to happen here in the courtyard in front of anyone who walked past.

Hepsie’s face suddenly changed, her brows coming together in a ferocious frown, her lips curling down as she glared directly at him. He almost looked behind him to check it wasn’t aimed at someone else, but he felt fairly sure the only living creatures around were the chickens and he did not know what they could have done to provoke such a face.

“Yew!”, she shrieked, and rushed up to him, pounding at his chest ineffectually with her tiny fists.

“Look a what’ve yew done to me yew big ruddy fool!!”

Steen looked around in a panic, but he couldn’t see anything that was different, nor imagine how he could have been responsible.

“Yew put this thing inside me yew big damn oaf and now I got to be bloody well gettin’ it out again now don’t I!!”

Steen didn’t think he had ever heard his good-natured little wife swear before and now she had the mouth of a common fishwife.

She poked him again hard in the chest and was about to do it again when she crumpled over in pain.

“Oooooh… “, she clutched at her heaving belly as Steen hovered before her unsure of what to do.

When the contraction passed she looked up at him, the anger gone leaving behind only the face of a frightened girl.

“I don’t want to be doin’ it Steen… it be hurtin’ that much and I don’t think I got the strength to do it. I don’t want to anymore… can yew just be takin’ me home now and we forget this whole baby thing? Please Steen… can’t we just be goin’ home to our little cottage? I don’t care that it’s only bein’ half built. Please?”.

Her lower lip was trembling as she looked at him, tears forming at the corners of her eyes and threatening to spill down her flushed cheeks.

“Well I dunno love, but I be guessin’ there ain’t much in this here world that’s gonna be stoppin’ that wee baby from comin’ whether yew or I be likin’ it or not”.

“And if I ever knew any woman that was bein’ strong enough it’s bein yew Hepsie… yer just about the strongest woman I ever been meetin’”.

“And surely since yew been bringin’ that many littl’uns into this world yew can be doin’ it fer our own. Just think love… soon we’ll be havin’ our own little son or daughter. Our very own and we can take the wee thing back to our cottage and be startin’ our own little family”.

Hepsie was gazing sadly at the ground, all the anger gone out of her, her shoulders drooping wearily.

“Yew just got to be doin’ this one thing now and yew got to be bein’ brave fer yer old Steen and that littl’un who’s bein’ so desperate to be comin’ out an meetin’ his Ma. And I know yew can Hepsie… yer just about the bravest woman I ever knowed”.

And then she flung herself into his arms, clinging to him like she never had before.

“I’m bein’ that scared Steen”, she whispered in his ear.

“I know love, but yew’ll be alright. Yer strong and brave and from all that kickin’ I been feelin’ these last months so’s the littl’un”.

“Now give yer old Steen a kiss and be off with yew”.

He pulled her gently to him, kissing her soft lips and tried not to let in the thought that perhaps this would be the last time he ever would. He ran his fingers through her long black hair and felt her warm body pressing against his. She was strong. She was brave. They would be alright.

“Ooooh… damn… bloody hell!”, she drew away, shouting obscenities as another wave of pain rushed through her body.

Steen rubbed her arm until it passed.

“I guess you gotte be goin’ real soon then love. Seems like it won’t be too much longer”.

She nodded and allowed herself to be led away by Gena.

Darina was waiting at the door, coaxing in an uncharacteristically gentle voice, “Come on then dearie… best to get it over with. Won’t be too much longer then”.

“I love yew Hepsie”, Steen called after her.

“I love yew too Steen… ooooh”.

And then the door shut and as Steen thought of the room beyond he realised he was “bein’ that scared” too, but he was glad he had not told her.