HARWICK / NIGHT
Régnwald emerged from the smoky hall and sucked in the fresher air. He looked around, completely lost, and his eyes found the woman with the baskets that he saw earlier. She was sitting on the even ground, far from the other houses, beside a small fire surrounded by stones. He approached the fire and the woman glanced at him, completely neutral, then back to the fire.
A long beat, A realization came to Régnwald.
''You mourn the man you killed.''
''I knew him. Though he did not treat me well.'' the answer came, as she stirred her fire. ''A renowned warrior he was. Quelling things with axes and that sword of yours. -- We'd all had tales when we were kids... Fairy tales. The kind you hear about people so brave, so selfless, that they can't be real. Later we learned that most were told to keep us near the streams in the spring...''
Régnwald stared down into the embers... Selwyn, stirring them with a stick. She threw on more peat, and the smoke rose.
''They're mostly gone now.'' She glanced up at Régnwald, and he saw her now in profile, her eyes wet, her skin shimmering in the flicker of fire-light. He edged up to her.
She turned, studied him and backhanded him hard in the face.
Régnwald staggered back a step, more stunned than offended. ''Where did that have its birth?''
''You thinking you can tie me up and drag me like a dog? Don't forget. I stabbed an earl.''
He was jolted. Almost as much as when she rose up to him and kissed him hard. They tentatively reached for each other.
—
The silvery drops of morning dew slowly settled upon the even ground as the sun began its journey across the heavens. The coming dawn had painted the sky into a crimson splendour, and a gust of chilly wind entered through the open window and blew across Régnwald’s face, which was only partly exposed beneath the grey blanket. The woman sighed and moaned quietly in her scenic slumber, and her hair was resting all over the pillow like golden strands of wheat upon a field. Some of it touched Régnwald’s face and tangled and wrestled with his uncombed beard and moustache; as if it was caught in a battle of wills, to see who would come out the strongest in the end. He abruptly awoke with a twitch as Selwyn – unknowingly – jolted his chest with her elbow when she turned around in her sleep, effectively sending a tremor of light pain through his torso. He stretched out his stiff, aching legs and sat up on the bed, with legs dangling over the side while the naked feet took several seconds before they dared to reach the wooden floor. He rested his elbows towards the knees and shot a glaring, hazy eye towards the slumbering beauty beside him, who was still trapped in the far-away realm of stirring dreams. He briefly looked at his hands, before burying his face within the embrace of the two blemished palms. He rubbed the dust out of his eyes and shook off the blanket that covered his thighs, and by doing that he partly exposed the woman’s feet and ankles as well. After quietly moving up from the bed, he dressed himself in a crimson tunic and a pair of heavier, brown pants. He decided to let her stay in the bed where she was safe and sound, and quickly pulled on his boots, jacket and belt as well, and went as quietly as he could out of the house, softly shutting the door behind him.
