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”.

Isaura was actually enjoying herself for a change. She had been feeling better in the last week, the exhaustion of the past months seemed to have partially departed and she had actually accepted the invitation to dine with the other members of her husband’s family. It had been a bit of a struggle to ready herself for the engagement, the mere act of pulling her dress over her head made her breathless. But Lochan had helped her, combing her long thinning hair in such a way as to hide the bald patches. With careful hands he had fastened the necklace he had given her when they first met, kissing her softly on the back of her neck.

And now she was having a lovely evening, conversing with her friends. She thought it was a shame that her husband obviously wasn’t. She stole a quick glance in his direction and saw his face wrinkled in distaste as he watched Garrick shoveling his food into his mouth. She thought the Baron was being a little less than polite this night, but it was probably due to the large amount of wine he had been consuming steadily since they had sat down.

Not that he was the only one, the King had been matching him drink for drink and she could hear him slurring his words slightly. Her husband had barely touched his drink, he had never been one to join in on the drunken revelry his friends often participated in. She was glad though, she thought it would be unpleasant to have a sozzled husband pawing his way into her bed after a long night drinking.

Garrick sat up straight his mouth full and his eyes glazed. She noticed small breadcrumbs clinging to his beard, and a red stain on his shirt where he had spilled his wine earlier. She felt a bit sorry that Cindra had to share a bed with him later the night. And every night for that matter, Lochan had told her that lately Garrick was drunk most evenings. Then again Cindra probably didn’t mind, half the time she was tipsy herself.

She daintily lifted the fork to her mouth to hide a smile when Garrick began to converse with her husband, his mouth still partly filled with food. She had to admit to herself she was slightly shocked at his behaviour, as far as she could remember he had always had good manners before. He really must have drunk a great deal, perhaps he had already been drinking before they arrived.

The door opened and Cindra waddled in, lowering herself ungraciously into the chair with a thump.

“What did I miss?”, she asked, pulling the chair towards the table. Isaura thought Garrick should have stood and helped her but she did not comment on it.

“I can’t stand the way this baby is always making me rush off and miss what’s happening”, she said grinning, “but he seems to think that putting his foot where he really shouldn’t is a rather good joke”.

Isaura thought it rude to discuss such things at the dinner table, especially when the men were around. But Cindra had always been gauche and that probably wasn’t gone to change now they were so far removed from the rigors of high society.

“Not much actually my dear”, Garrick slurred stifling a belch, “actually I was just going to ask her highness how her figure stays so fine while you’re starting to look like a little pudding?”

“So, Your Highness, whatsh your secret? Becaush you should really impart that knowledge to my wife I think. Perraps she’s just carrying a bigger baby than you”.

“Wouldn’t you agree my dear”, he said turning to Cindra with an unpleasant leer on his face.

Isaura was speechless. She did not know where to look. With that one stupid sentence the Baron had managed to not only insult his poor little wife, but also the Queen. Isaura thought it obvious that Madlenka was very concerned about the health of her baby. She had felt that way too in the beginning, now she was too tired to feel anything anymore.

She looked up to see Garrick and Cindra staring at each other. Cindra looked as though she had been struck, her lower lip quivering slightly, tears welling up in her eyes.

Isaura thought it was odd. Garrick had never been so tactless with his wife, as far as she could see he absolutely adored the little woman and it was often he who came to her aid when she had said something stupid. But you never knew how people were when they were alone, perhaps the two were having problems and only now they were coming out in the open.

“Steady on there Garrick”, Eallair said with a concerned look, that was suddenly very sober, “you know women don’t like to talk about these things with us silly old fools around”.

“What! Why are you all looking at me like I’ve kicked a puppy? I didn’t say anything wrong”, Garrick said his voice raising belligerently, as he struggled to defend himself, “I was just making a comment to my friends”.

“And one of those friends you are possibly forgetting Garrick, is the Queen”, she heard her husband hiss between his teeth, “and perhaps it isn’t so appropriate to be commenting on her figure, don’t you think?”

She looked over at Lochan’s face, and saw his jaw was tightly set, his eyes half closed. She knew this was the face he made when he was trying to reign in his anger. He had never used it against her but she had seen it often enough.

Actually perhaps she wasn’t feeling so well after all. Her head was begin to throb painfully, and a desperate urge to cough was building within her. Maybe she should just excuse herself from the room, so she could be alone in the dark and the quiet, away from the anger, away from the people.

She stole another glance at her husband and saw that his eyes were resting on his cousin. Cindra sat opposite him her little head bowed as she stared fixedly at her dinner plate, pushing a piece of meat around with her fork.

“And another thing!”, Lochan suddenly barked from beside her, “Do you think it’s right to upset your wife like this! She deserves better than that”.

Isaura was suprised at the severity of her husband’s reponse. She knew that Lochan had been very fond of his little cousin when they were children. But she had thought he now looked upon her as a silly, tactless girl who was always making trouble in their small court. Perhaps his feelings had changed. He had not mentioned that to her though.

“Come now Lochan”, Eallair said with a forced smile on his face, his tone congenial, “this is just a misunderstanding. Perhaps Garrick did not think about what he was saying before it left his mouth. That happens to all of us at times. Can we just settle down… there’s no need to get angry”.

Isaura really was not feeling well. Her head felt so heavy on her neck she could barely hold up the weight of it. Her stomach was restless and she wished she had not eaten so much food. The urge to cough was now becoming unbearable. If she could just sit through Eallair’s reconciliatory speech then she could leave.

“Isaura dear”, she heard Madlenka’s voice interrupting the King’s monologue.

She looked up at the Queen’s, concerned face, confused at this development.

“I think your nose is bleeding”.

She gasped, humiliated, the sharp intake of breath almost letting the cough forming in her lungs explode from her mouth. Her hand flew up to her face, where she felt a thick fluid coming from her nose. She drew back her hand staring at it and saw it was smeared with dark red blood.

She stumbled to her feet, so quickly she almost passed out her head spinning uncontrollably for a few seconds.

“I… I’m so sorry. I must leave. Sorry”, she croaked from behind the cough.

She heard her husbands chair scraping against the floor, as he leapt to her assistance. His strong arm was around her frail waist, and she leant heavily against him as he led her from the room.

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

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

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

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

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

There was a sharp knock at the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Valeriya looked around the room and could not help but think that everyone was enjoying themselves but her. She was glad in her heart that Radomir had not shown up for the Christmas festivities but there was another face she would have dearly liked to see who had not attended either.

Varda and Sigurd were quietly sitting at the table before her, listening to the conversations around them. She thought it must be nice to be able to just sit with someone, to be so comfortable together that words became unnecessary.

The King was laughing at the back of the room with the Queen who was proudly showing off her swollen belly. He stopped occasionally to lovingly stroke her growing figure. Valeriya had to swallow hard to stop tears from coming to her eyes.

The Arwaduhns who before had hated each other so passionately it had been impossible for the other inhabitants of the boat not to hear their frequent screaming matches, were chatting to each other happily. Since Cordell had mostly recovered from his illness they had been absolutely inseparable, and while the occasional fight was heard echoing through the hollows of the ship, it was clear that they had put aside their differences and were very much in love.

The only person in the room who did not look happy was Lochan who was standing in the opposite corner of the room to her, watching the proceedings with a bleak look on his face. She had heard that Isaura’s condition had deteriorated and now she was so weak most days she could not leave her bed.

Their eyes met across the room and she weakly smiled. He didn’t smile back but she didn’t expect him to and she thought his expression had grown slightly warmer than the moment before.

She heard a squeal from the centre of the room and her gaze fell upon Cindra and Garrick.

Cindra was shrieking with laughter as Garrick, who had drunk far too much wine was trying to tickle her. She ducked away from him, hindered by her large belly and ran giggling over to the doorway where a sprig of mistletoe hung.

She stood underneath it looking up at her towering husband, one hand resting on her hip.

“Well… are you going to come and catch me or not”, she said saucily.

“I most certainly am”, he growled, slurring his words slightly.

He leapt forward and gathered her up in his arms trying to kiss her. Unfortunately their height difference, the amount of mulled wine consumed and the size of Cindra’s belly proved to make this a very difficult task.

Eventually he gave up and tipped the small girl backwards, planting a rather large and wet kiss on her mouth while she squealed and squirmed in his arms.

Valeriya sometimes found Cindra a bit too much to handle, and this was one of those times. She wished she were somewhere quiet, away from these jovial people who had so much to live for.

The door opened with a click beside her and he walked in, his footsteps barely making a sound on the hard wooden floor. Her heart began to pound so hard she felt sure that everyone else in the room could hear, that they knew what she was thinking. She shuddered at the thought as she looked at him, her breath quickening the room beginning to spin.

Then he noticed her there and smiled. The room stopped spinning and everyone else in it ceased to exist. It was just her standing there before him basking in the warmth of his smile.

Then she heard a shrill cry from behind him.

“Father Harndall is standing under the mistletoe! He’s going to have to kiss someone… and look… Valeriya is standing the closest!”

She looked up at Cindra in dismay and followed her gaze to the offensive object hanging above the doorframe. Her heart began to flutter in panic and she felt the world going black around the corners. She took a deep breath and willed her knees to hold her up.

She heard the others begin to join in, drunkenly jeering as the two of them stood awkwardly before the doorway.

“Come on Father… it’s Christmas time… even Priests get to be a little bit naughty on Christmas!”, Cindra cried.

“And just because you’re a priest doesn’t make you exempt from the mistletoe rule”, Garrick almost shouted with glee.

“Come on Father, it’s just peck on the lips”, Cordell joined in.

Harndall looked at the King beseechingly, but when Valeriya glanced up at him, he too was staring at them expectantly.

She noticed his eyes were blurred slightly from the drink and then he nodded at them and grinned congenially. She knew that in his head Ealliar thought he was doing the priest a favour, letting him savour a quick kiss from a beautiful woman.

There was nothing else that could be done to appease the party-guests so Harndall stepped closer to her and laid one hand gently on her shoulder. She closed her eyes tightly waiting for it to be over, for the humiliation to end.

Then she felt the light brush of his lips on hers and a tongue of fire arced its way through her body. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it would burst and she could feel a red burning blush snaking its way up her chest and neck, to settle on her cheeks. The jeers of the others fell away and for a moment, with her eyes shut she could imagine it was just them.

Then it was over and he stepped away from her, his hand leaving a warm imprint on her shoulder, his kiss leaving an imprint on her heart.

They stood staring at each other for a moment ignoring the drunken cheers around them. She could see that his face was flushed too, his pupils dilated and his breath coming quicker than it should have.

And then, without a word, she turned and walked through the doors, leaving them all behind her.

Eallair walked up the hill admiring the finished structure of the first house built on Mhalwae. It was not a big building but it would be enough to house the Rawtharn’s and his first new subject due to be born in a matter of weeks.

He could see already the soil in front of the house had been tended in preparation for a small garden perhaps. He assumed this had been done by the lady of the house. From what he could tell Engin Rawtharn was not a man who appreciated work. He hoped that Goodwife Rawtharn would turn out to be different.

He raised his hand and knocked confidently on the the carefully crafted hardwood door. It was a relief to him to have some of the peasants moving into houses, the approaching winter and the number of babies due soon were of great concern to him. The space on the ships was limited and having some of the peasants moving to houses would definitely give them more room.

He heard a small groan and movement inside, then footsteps coming towards the door. Darina opened it wide, her large belly poking first through the door-frame.

He saw a flicker of surprise cross her face and then it was replaced by an extremely wide grin. Eallair was sure that he could see almost all of the teeth in her mouth. It was nice to be welcomed like this though. He could tell Goodwife Rawtharn must be a congenial woman if she could smile so broadly at a first meeting.

“Yer Majesty!”, she cried, “Yew’ll be forgivin’ me if I don’t be curtseying fer yew won’t yer… I’m afraid if I get down I won’t be getting back up again till this here baby is being born”.

“Of course, of course”, he grinned, “we would not want that would we, then I could not ask you the favour I have come for. But first of all tell me, how is that little… or should I say big baby of your’s?”

Darina smiled again, looking down at her swollen figure. Eallair thought her smile now seemed somehow warmer. And there were definitely less teeth involved.

“Well I believe it’s being quite fine Yer Majesty, judging by the amount of kicking it be doin’”, she laughed fondly, “the little mite is gettin’ so bad these days I think it wakes up Engin with it’s kicks they’re that hard!”.

Her huge grin came back again, “But I be forgettin’ me manners Yer majesty! Would yew like to come inside this little house of mine… yew said yer had a favour to be askin’ me”.

She opened her arms wide, gesturing to the inside of her small house with obvious pride.

“Yes, yes… I will come in, thank you Goodwife”.

He gazed around the small tidy house. The floor had been neatly packed with clay and it was evident Darina swept it frequently. He spotted the object he had come to enquire about sitting in the corner, next to a barrel with a small candle burning brightly atop it.

“Can I be offerin’ yer somethin’ to drink Yer Majesty, yew can sit down while I fetch yer somethin’”.

“No, no”, he protested, “I am fine. By the looks of it you are the one who needs to be sitting Goodwife. How about we sit at the table and I tell you why I am bothering you on this fine autumn day”.

He winked at her and they went to sit at the table. Darina heaved herself into the chair, barely squeezing her enormous girth under the table.

“Now, the reason I have come, is because I have heard from some of the other folk that you have a talent that I could well make use of, and also the means to apply it”.

He turned to the left and Darina’s eyes followed his gaze to the spinning wheel that stood there, beside a chair with a basket of material and threads neatly tucked beneath.

He saw from her face that Darina was obviously confused about what he wanted.

“I’m not sure I’m completely undestandin’ Yer Majesty here. Are yew wantin’ some tapestries mended? Or perhaps a new outfit… I have not made any of these thins’. I mostly been sewin’ dresses to be honest”.

“And that”, he said triumphantly,”is precisely what I am wanting”.

“You see I have a little secret which will not be a secret for very much longer”, he winked at her conspiratorially, “the Queen will be needing very soon some larger dresses, particularly in the region of her stomach”.

He laughed heartily, “And I can tell you it is not because she has been eating too much candy”.

He saw a look of surprise and then something like gratitude mingled with glee at being the first to know of the approaching addition to the Royal family.

“And yew be wantin’ me to make a new dress fer her”, Darina said slowly.

“That is precisely what I am wanting from you Goodwife Rawtharn! I will provide the material and of course you will be payed a decent sum of money”.

He went on to describe exactly what Madlenka wanted while Darina listened intently wondering how best to exploit this opportunity.

Madlenka awoke pressed up against the warmth of her husband’s back. She did not know what had caused her to wake but she felt distinctly uneasy and nauseous. Also she desperately needed to go to the bathroom as she often did during the night lately.

She gently wiggled over to the side of the bed, sitting up and pulling back the covers carefully so as not to wake the sleeping figure next to her. Not that she could have woken him, Eallair slept like the dead, a trait she had often thought, not particularly useful for a king to possess. Luckily she slept so lightly that the slightest noise would awaken her, and so was the best guard of all for her husband while he snored beside her.

She did not light a candle, despite all the evidence that it would not disturb Eallair, instead choosing to shuffle blindly to the door. It did not seem so dark to her anyway, in fact there was a red glow coming from the chamber next to theirs, as though someone had already lit a candle in there.

When she looked into the chamber she saw that there was no candle lit, and there was a figure standing facing her. She screamed filled with sudden heart-clenching terror, but even this did not wake Eallair.

A woman stood in the room before her, clutching a tiny baby in her arms. She seemed somehow ethereal, surrounded by a mist that seemed to emanate from the space she occupied. She did not seem to notice Madlenka standing at the doorway but was entirely focused on the tiny baby she held in her arms.

Madlenka choked back a gasp as she recognised the woman standing before her. It was her very own mother, wearing the regal robes of Lomorrad, the very robes they had buried her in. Madlenka could have been staring into the mirror, she bore such a close resemblance to her, but Laela’s skin was pallid, her eyes sunken and hollow, the skin on face drawn back slightly revealing her teeth more than was normal.

Madlenka felt a confusing blend of emotions, terror at the apparition standing before her, wonder at seeing her mother again and a desperate longing to be wrapped in those cold dead arms and bury her face in the red hair that hung limply around her mother’s face.

She felt a sharp tongue of jealousy wrap itself around her heart and squeeze. Her mother did not even notice her, oblivious to all but the babe she clutched to her chest.

She remember the day they had buried her mother, the sky had been filled with dark clouds as they stood before the family crypt. As they carried her to her final resting place, the skies had suddenly opened, rain pouring down on the mourners and on the body of her tiny, frail mother and the dead baby she held in her arms. She remembered the sharp prick of the raindrops, millions of tiny needles burying themselves deep into her arms, the rising smell of the cemetery soil in the rain and the salty taste of the tears that ran freely down her face. She had only been ten shivering as she clutched tightly at her younger brother, fused to him in sorrow. Her poor mother, whose body had seemed averse to bearing children, to lose her life giving birth to the last.

Suddenly her mother seemed to notice she was there, staring at her hollowly, a flicker of recognition in her dulled eyes.

She moved slowly towards Madlenka, her walk marred by an unnatural stiffness in her limbs.

Madlenka’s heart was pounding in her throat, as she stood unable to move, paralysed with fear, a sick feeling growing in her stomach.

Her mother smiled at her, a dreadful cracked smile, which contorted what had once been a beautiful face into something horrifying.

Madlenka understood she meant for her to take the baby from her, the woman was trying to press the squirming thing into her arms.

She looked down at it, her dead brother and was shocked to see Eallair’s eyes staring back at her. She reached out her arms tentatively as her mother placed the baby in them.

Madlenka awoke with a jolt, sobbing uncontrollably with tears pouring down her face.

Eallair was awakened at the sound of her distress as she pushed herself out of bed and crashed into the wall beside it.

He ran around the side of the bed, pulling his shaking, weeping wife into his arms holding her tightly against his chest and stroking her hair. He did not know what else to do.

Eallair immediately knew there was something wrong when he entered the room. Madlenka was lying on the bed staring up at the ceiling, wearing a funereal expression on her face.

(more…)

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…)

Cindra confronted them in the hallway outside the room she shared with Garrick.

(more…)

The three men stood gazing into the depths of the enormous hole that lay before them.

(more…)