‘I think I prefer “the stars are bright tonight”,’ said Rek who had joined Serbitar at the window.
Below them Virae was walking slowly, a white cloak wrapped about her shoulders and her long hair flowing in the night breeze.
‘I think I will join her, if you’ll excuse me,’ said Rek.
Serbitar smiled. ‘Of course. I will sit by the fire and think, if I may!’
‘Make yourself at home,’ said Rek, pulling on his boots.
Moments after Rek had left Vintar entered. He too had forsaken armour for a simple tunic of white wool, hooded and thick.
‘That was painful for you, Serbitar. You should have allowed me to come,’ he said, patting the younger man’s shoulder.
‘I could not tell him the truth.’
‘But you did not lie,’ whispered Vintar.
‘When does evasion of the truth become a lie?’
‘I do not know. But you brought them together, and that was your purpose. They have this night.’
‘Should I have told him?’
‘No. He would have sought to alter that which cannot be altered.’
‘Cannot or must not?’ asked Serbitar.
‘Cannot. He could order her not to fight tomorrow and she would refuse. He cannot lock her away -she is an Earl’s daughter.’
‘If we told her?’
‘She would refuse to accept it, or else defy fate.’
‘Then she is doomed.’
‘No. She is merely going to die.’
‘I will do everything in my power to protect her, Vintar. You know that.’
‘As will I. But we will fail. Tomorrow night you must show the Earl Egel’s secret.’
‘He will be in no mood to see it.’
*
Rek put his arm about her shoulders, leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
‘I love you,’ he whispered.
She smiled and leaned into him, saying nothing.
‘I simply can’t say it,’ said Virae, her large eyes turned full upon him.
‘That’s all right. Do you feel it?’
‘You know that I do. I just find it hard to say. Romantic words sound . . .strange . . .clumsy when I use them. It’s as if my throat wasn’t made to form the sounds. I feel foolish. Do you understand what I’m saying?’ He nodded and kissed her again. ‘And anyway, I haven’t had your practice.’
‘True,’ he said.
‘What does that mean?’ she snapped.
‘I was just agreeing with you.’
‘Well, don’t. I’m in no mood for humour. It’s easy for you – you’re a talker, a storyteller. Your conceit carries you on. I want to say all the things I feel, but I cannot. And then, when you say them first my throat just seizes up and I know I should say something, but I still can’t.’
‘Listen, lovely lady, it doesn’t matter! They are just words as you say. I’m good with words, you’re good with actions. I know that you love me; I don’t expect you to echo me every time I tell you how I feel. I was just thinking earlier about something Horeb told me years ago. He said that for every man there is the one woman, and that I would know mine when I saw her. And I do.’
‘When I saw you,’ she said, turning in to him and hugging his waist, ‘I thought you were a popinjay.’ She laughed.
‘You should have seen your face as that outlaw charged towards you!’
‘I was concentrating. I’ve told you before that marksmanship was never my strong point.’
‘You were petrified.’
‘True.’
‘But you still rescued me?’
True. I’m a natural hero.’
‘No, you’re not – and that’s why I love you. You’re just a man who does his best and tries to be honourable. That is rare.’
‘Despite my conceit – and you may find this hard to believe – I get very uncomfortable when faced with compliments.’
‘But I want to say what I feel, it’s important to me. You are the first man I ever really felt comfortable with as a woman. You brought me to life. I may die during this seige, but I want you to know that it has been worth it.’
‘Don’t talk about dying. Look at the stars. Feel the night. It’s beautiful isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is. Why don’t you take me back to the keep and than I can show you how actions speak louder than words?’