A pair of geese goes flying northward

It was only the third night that Sir Malcolm had spent in his new house, and the first that he had slept in the bed. The first two nights had been those that immediately followed that nightmarish wedding night, and on those he had slept fitfully on the bench before the fire in the hall. He had told himself that he wanted to be close by in case Iylaine returned and was too weak and tired to do more than scratch at the front door. The truth was that he could not bear to sleep alone in the great bed.

Since then he had spent one sleepless night at Egelric’s castle, waiting for the elves to return with Iylaine, and all the following he had spent either in his old room at the castle of the King, where he could be near to his father and brothers, or at Sir Sigefrith’s manor, where he could see his cousin Malcolm.

The latter especially had been a great comfort to him in the past week, primarily by encouraging him to do precisely what he was tempted to do. Their situations were quite different, but the elder Malcolm had some idea of what he felt, having once loved a woman who belonged, at least by some bonds of God or law, to another man. His cousin did not want to see Malcolm spending the rest of his life regretting what might have been. His cousin regretted the crimes he had committed far less than the crimes he had not.

“No grief ever born can die,” his cousin had told him. The rhythm of the phrase in Gaelic was like a canter, and that dark horse had been going around and around in Malcolm’s head for days.

He was seventeen years old, and already his lifelong accumulation of undying grief had begun. All his plain-​​spoken pragmatism could not save Malcolm from his first bout with melancholy, and only deprived him of any means of expressing or combatting it. All he had were his cousin’s words, and at times he dreamt of taking them as his motto. He would have them painted on his shield. He would take down the painting over the mantle and set those words up in their place. He would…

He sat up suddenly and did not know why. Something had awoken the catlike part of him, but it had not reached the man. He trusted the cat more than the man, and, lacking claws, he reached a stealthy hand beneath the bedside table and withdrew the knife that was hidden there.

It was a wild, windy night, such as would set a man on edge and then threaten to blow him over. If he had thought his Baby out in it, he could not have slept at all. He knew her safe at Nothelm keep, where she had stayed ever since she had been returned by the elves, but it was little comfort to him to know she was so near. He had scarcely seen her since.

Her father’s recommendation had been the opposite of his cousin’s, and in spite of his own desire and his cousin’s advice, he had done as Egelric asked and been patient with her. It was what Egelric had once suggested, and it had worked then. Without that proof of the sagacity of his father-​​in-​​law, Malcolm did not think he would have had faith enough in him to so long endure this separation. It was like–

Malcolm leapt up from the bed and went to the window in one bound. That was what had woken him. A stone had just struck one of the panes, but it was far too small to have broken the glass. Someone was trying to get his attention. Someone small and slender and blonde-​​headed…

“Baby!” he shouted and pounded on the glass to show her that he had heard. He snatched up a long shirt to cover enough of his nakedness so as not to startle the poor girl, and then he ran for the front door.

He had her in his arms so quickly that he did not even have a chance to see her face.

“Baby, Baby, Baby!” he laughed wildly, and then he tried to kiss what he could reach of her, which happened to be the silky hair that covered her pretty, pointed ear.

She laughed a little with him and held him tightly with one arm, but the other seemed to be holding something bulky.

“What do you have there, Babe?” he asked.

“A bag with my things,” she said. “Malcolm…”

“Baby!” he cried. “You came home!” He laughed with delight and wrestled her through the door. “Come in, Baby! Come in to your house.”

“Malcolm…”

He bustled her over to the fire that still burned fretfully in the hall. With one hand he took the bag and dropped it on the floor, and meanwhile the other roamed over her shoulder and arm and back and hip, reassuring him of her presence. He was definitely not dreaming.

“Silly, stupid girl!” he chattered. “Wandering about on a wild night like this! When you could have come any time and it wouldn’t have been too soon! Baby!”

“Malcolm!”

“Let’s get this cloak off of you and get you tucked into bed, naughty girl!” he laughed, but he did not have the patience even to open the first hook. He had to kiss her first, quickly, just to make certain she tasted as real as she felt.

Oh, he would not let her go this time! Not until she was his quite – and even then he swore he would never, never let her go. The Devil himself might be tethered outside, bucking beneath the saddle and tossing his horned head in his rage at the bit, but he would have the time to cool his heels on this night, though he had warmed them in the fires of Hell.

“Malcolm!” Iylaine cried after she had managed to twist her face away from his.

“My lady?” he asked.

He needed to be patient, he reminded himself. This was not the sort of patience her father had had in mind, but Malcolm was beginning to suspect he was frightening the poor girl with his ardor. It was not helping that he was wearing nothing but a shirt, and he realized that if he managed to undress her to a similar state, he would require a greater store of patience than any seventeen-​​year-​​old male had yet possessed. Therefore he released her and took a step away.

“Malcolm,” she sighed, seeming relieved that she would at last be allowed to speak. “I don’t want to go to bed.”

“Well, we might sit on the bench a while and – ” He realized in time that it would be shame to limit himself in advance to talking. “Not sleep.”

“No, Malcolm, I want to go.”

Malcolm blinked at her. She had only just arrived. “What?”

She lifted her head, almost defiantly it seemed to him, and said, “I want to go away with you. I want to go away from this place.”

“But… Baby…”

“Tonight.”

“But… Baby, we have this house… And we don’t need to go away to be together. We are man and wife.”

“That is why I want to go away with you,” she said and wrapped her arms around his waist. “But I want to go away.”

Malcolm looked out over the dark hall, and a shadowy disappointment came stealing over him. The very walls of this house were hung with dreams. None were more important than she, of course. None were anything at all without her. But if he could have it all…

“Well, Babe, why don’t we sleep on it and see how you feel about it in the morning?” he suggested.

“Now, Malcolm! Now!” She stamped her foot in its little riding boot. She had come dressed to fly.

“Baby, we can be happy here,” he said tenderly, “and no one shall stop us. Not all the elves. Not the Devil himself.”

“Don’t say that,” she said with her wickedest smile. “We need the Devil tonight to help us get away. I could not bring Druid.”

“Oh, Baby!” he groaned. He was thinking that it was unnecessary, dangerous perhaps, and wrong. But it was very nearly what his cousin Malcolm had recommended. He had fallen asleep dreaming of doing it – though he had dreamed that he would have been the one to carry her off and she the one carried, and not the contrary.

“Malcolm,” she said firmly, “last autumn you told me you wanted to go away with me and be alone, and you said you would go anywhere, as long as I was with you. And you said I should tell you when I’m ready to go, and I’m telling you now. It is time to go. We shall be a pair of geese and head north in the springtime.”

“Shall we go to my mother?” he asked.

Suddenly it did not seem so wrong: just a little bridal visit to receive his mother’s blessing. If they hurried and took the right road, they might even meet up with his father, who had left the day before.

And surely, he told himself, he could convince her to return to their own little home after a while. She simply needed some time away. The important thing was that she wanted to be with him. He would go anywhere, so long as he was with her.

“I don’t care where we go, Malcolm,” she said softly. “So long as I am with you.”