and expressed interest in seeing this

Mordred's romance with Lethira was originally, yes, a love triangle, with the sweet intervention of Roger Lewis the tanner's assistant (originally he was a postal worker, but this got switched around after a few drafts)

I got a sweeping wave of inspiration to write their romance down once in the middle of the night, and lost a night's sleep worrying that I would forget it before morning, which is a pity, because it's completely discarded now.

***

Mordred Kenhelm arched an eyebrow at his daughter in mock horror. "You don't want to hear that story again!"

She giggled and laid the curly red head against his knee. "Yes I do."

Mordred sighed sadly. "Very well. Mind you, Linnetta, I really am getting quite bored of this story."

No-one within earshot believed him.

Mordred leaned back and shut his eyes. Always handsome, in repose the years seemed to drain away from his face; he was the Mordred Kenhelm of thirty years – of twenty – of nineteen. He cleared his throat and began.

THE STORY OF HOW I MARRIED LETHIRA (YOUR MOTHER)

I was young then, nineteen years and two months, and incidentally not married to your mother or anyone else. The War was not long over, and Fred and Fiona – that is, Mr. and Mrs. Thorn – had just been married on the very day I am speaking of. Uncle Fenris and Aunt Laufeia (who weren't married then either and so were obliged to live with me) and I were going home, entirely unconscious of the blow that was soon to fall. Well, sad to say, Uncle Fenris had forced me to ride the only horse even though my broken leg was quite healed. So when a beautiful young lady with long rippling red-gold hair came riding over the crest of the hill, I could feel my face flushing a most unbecoming shade of red, with no gold in it whatsoever. What must she think of a fine strong man who rode a horse while his younger brother and sister walked? Being the stubborn man I am, of course I never thought to offer an explanation for this situation as she drew closer. But I really didn't need to, because as soon as she was within earshot she called out to us.

"How much further is it to Ceristen?"

Your Aunt Laufeia, always the calm and practical one, answered. "It is hours' ride yet to the village of Ceristen. But if you wish to spend the night with us, our house is down the road only a little ways."

The girl hesitated. I felt her gaze keenly as it passed over Fenris, who turned his head away a little, and Laufeia, who returned it with an open smile, and me, who felt the blush rise to the roots of my hair. I could not help but notice that her eyes were very pretty.

At length she must have decided that we didn't look like marauders or thieves or whatnot. "I will stay with you," she replied to Laufeia.

Wonderful, I thought. I hardly need tell you that that was the blackest and most cuttingly sarcastic remark I had thought for a long time.

I spoke not a word the rest of the journey home, or at the table that

evening, or around the fire in the living-room afterwards. I sat in a pit of gloomy, self-pitying silence and definitely put a damper on the evening for my poor siblings and Miss Lethira Ferguson, as the dame was called.

She told us a little of herself, and why she was here. While traveling to Orden, she and her sister and brothers had been attacked by bandits, who had taken the young men captive. With the help of Jedediah Crayes, who merely happened to be passing that way, they rescued Graham and McKay and made all speed to Orden. But McKay and Graham had both been wounded while fighting off the bandits, and no sooner had Jedediah Crayes gained them entrance into Mianu than McKay fainted outright from weariness and the pain of his injured arm and shoulder. Graham was in little better state, though McKay, being a doctor, had done what he could for his brother while they were captured. Jedediah Crayes got them into the hospice of Mianu and advised Lethira and Fenia that once their brothers were healed enough, they might try Ceristen for a place to live.

We retired for the night, Laufeia firing a few annoyed glances after me. What a trial I was in her life...

Lethira stayed with us another day and a night, acquainting herself with the people of Ceristen and searching for a house that would be suitable to live in. Then she left for Mianu again.

As she was saddling up her horse that morning, I came out and stood on the porch, staring at her and hoping both that she would notice me and that she would not.

She did. She looked at me and then turned back to the horse.

That was what I was to her, I thought bitterly. That was how much she cared for me. Then I couldn't stand it any longer. As she was swinging up with a graceful movement, I came forward and grasped her horse's bridle.

She was every bit as little as she is now, and I hardly had to look up to see into her eyes. I felt the Kenhelm recklessness sweeping over me, and I spoke swiftly in case it might suddenly ebb away.

"Miss Lethira – I am sorry."

In the white flame of sacrifice it cost me to say that, I never thought about anything until she was a good piece down the road, and then fearful realizations poured down on me like a torrent. Lethira Ferguson had no way of knowing what I was sorry for, she could not be expected to know what it cost me to say it, I had behaved in an utterly rude manner the whole time she was here and now this was a glorious icing on the cake, and much more of like nature. With a sour taste in my mouth and a despairing knot in the pit of my stomach, I stalked grimly into the house and was abominably rude to Inspector Dickson, who was living with us then.

I spent the next few days making Fenris worry about me while in his company and contemplating Lethira's eyes while in my own. It took me a long time to pin their color down. They seemed all at once grey, and then blue-grey; then greenish-grey with flecks of rust-brown dancing in them, and then grey shot with gold. Finally, I don't know when or where, I overheard Mrs. Earle speaking of Lethira Ferguson's "wonderful hazel eyes" and the mystery was solved. I then spent a little time rewinding my brain, which had always thought that hazel eyes were eyes of a pretty brownish-golden.

At last it was the day of Lethira's return with Fenia and Graham and McKay, and it was then that Laufeia told me that Lethira had invited us to meet them by the tanner's.

My lips set in a very thin line and I went dourly out to the stable to harness Smoke. Aye, Smoke is ancient now, but back in those days he was a fine, high-stepping stallion of glistening grey, right about the color my hair seems to be going these days. He was well able to pull the cart that Fenris and I had been hammering together.

The three of us piled into it quickly and were at the tanner's by early afternoon, even as the Fergusons came riding up. I avoided Lethira's gaze.

I had determined already that I did not like any of Lethira's siblings, though to this day I am not certain why. But I could find nothing wrong with Graham or Fenia, and I could not help liking McKay on first sight. He had keen eyes and good hands, and a warm and ready smile, and instinctively I knew that he was a good doctor.

They dismounted and we climbed out of the little wagon, and I stood silent while the girls talked and Graham looked out into space.

McKay flashed his open smile at me. "You must be Mordred," he said.

"I am." I fear my tone was somewhat stiff.

"Lethira has described you all vividly."

"Has she?" Like McKay though I did, I was still in no good humour. My words were sardonic. "I suppose she has told you how discourteous I was during her stay with us."

McKay looked at me sharply. "No. She said no such thing. Of you she said that you were tall and handsome, and rather reserved."

I felt a queer mixture of gladness and resentment. What right had she to call me reserved? one part of me thought darkly. The other part dared to hope wildly that she did not think me impolite after all.

Even after what I had said to her?

Gradually I fell into conversation with McKay, and we moved closer to the girls and talked to them also. Lethira often shyly turned her eyes to me when she thought I was not looking. At one of those times I boldly caught her gaze, and she blushed a little and looked at the ground. If hearts sing, mine was singing as we prepared to part our ways and head home.

We realized we had been talking for hours when the tanner's assistant came out of the workshop, whistling.

"Oh, dear me," Laufeia exclaimed. "It must be getting late."

Her voice must have startled him. He whirled around to look at us.

He barely glanced at Laufeia, Fenris, and I, of course. We were nothing new. His attention was for the recent arrivals.

I looked at him suddenly with new eyes.

He was not as tall as I; just below six feet, if my memory is correct. But he was young, and no strain on the feminine eye. His head of dark brown hair shone glossy and luxuriant; no doubt he rubbed oil into it daily, besides working under a nice sheltering roof with no wind to ruffle it. His fine, straight nose was every bit as fine and straight as mine. Only a very biased observer would have said that his easily smiling mouth looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. I was very biased. His ice-blue eyes, keen as a hawk's, became without warning soft as they fell upon Lethira. With a delicate preliminary cough he stepped forward and introduced himself.

"My name is Roger Lewis. I see you are new here – and, ah – who may I have the pleasure of addressing?"

Graham answered for them all. "I am Graham Ferguson. This is my brother, McKay; and my sisters, Fenia and Lethira."

"Hurm. Well." He hesitated a moment, and then by some method, I know not what, drew all four of the Fergusons into some ridiculous topic of discussion which – apparently – interested them all. Including Lethira.

He looked at her more than anyone else – who could fail to notice it? And what girl could fail to be flattered by it? Lethira's eyes were bright, and she was smiling.

"We need not stay here," I said crossly, and slapped the reins on Smoke with unnecessary force. Startled, he shied and reared up, plunging, and the Fergusons turned briefly to look at us. The last sight Roger Lewis must have seen of me that day was a tight-lipped young man with sparks flashing in his eyes trying to control a spooked horse before the said horse broke into a mad gallop down the street and out of sight.

Needless to say, Fenris gave me several worried looks before we went to bed that night.

I was sure of this at least: that I loved Lethira, and that Roger Lewis was not going to stand in my way of pursuing her. These many years later, who knows? Perhaps it was not love I felt for Lethira Ferguson, just infatuation with her beauty.

Ah well. These many years later, who cares? You don't, anyway. You want me to go on with the story.

On we go, then.

I had resolved firmly that I must court Lethira, but I did not carry through with my resolve immediately. I followed the charitable prickings of conscience, and gave them time to get settled in. I waited for days, until I could wait no longer.

I told Fenris that I was taking a ride out. I did not tell him where I was going, nor did he ask. Fenris was, and still is, nice that way. But to this day I wonder whether I should have told Laufeia instead.

I knew well the place where the Fergusons had moved to, and so that was no obstacle. I rode eagerly, pushing Smoke to a faster pace than usual. I was going to court Lethira, and nothing and nobody would stop me.

The house was set with a good view of the road, at the bottom of a long, gentle hill. As Smoke cantered over the rise and the house came into sight, I reined him in sharply. My jaw set like iron.

Swinging up onto his horse, waving cheerily to the open door where stood a slender figure, was Roger Lewis. He was not wearing his everyday work clothes, but a most elegant waistcoat and a dashing hat. It was only too plain what he had been there to do.

I did not move. I stayed where I was, on Smoke's back, rigid as a doorpost. He must have seen me when he rode by, but he never blinked. As he passed me, so close I could have knocked him out of the saddle – and oh, how I wanted to! – , my teeth ground against each other in pure frustration.

Somehow I held my peace. I knew, in my heart, I had no right to hit him – to fight him. It was partly my fault, after all – was it not? If I hadn't messed everything up completely in the first place –

And Lethira was there at the door, watching him go. It would not have been right to do it where she could see. Especially if she – if she liked him at all – it would be humiliating to her beyond belief. And I could not hurt her. This, actually, was the first proof of any noble emotion that was capable of stirring in my breast.

When Roger Lewis was gone, I did not follow his route down the road. I whirled Smoke into the trees and galloped home by pathless ways, always with a sick aching in my chest.

I had no appetite for dinner, which could not escape Laufeia's gimlet eye. I even spoke sharply to Fenris, which hurt me dreadfully and him even worse, and snapped at him and Laufeia when they asked me what was wrong. I went to bed with the foul sensation that all around me was empty and that I was full of rottenness.

But life had to go on. In the morning I apologized to Fenris and also to Laufeia, and did my best to eat breakfast. I got through the first day, and the second, and the third, and more days than I thought I could have endured. I never saw Lethira. It was my hope that I never would.

Fenris had not stopped worrying about me, of course. Only a stupid man could not have told that my heart was in nothing I did; only a fool could not have heard me pacing when I was alone in my room (I still pace like that when I am seriously bothered or upset. Ask your mother). And Fenris was no fool.

Being the sensitive person he is, after the way I had spoken to him that evening he did not voice his concerns about me to my face. But I often felt his eyes on me, when we were working in the barn together, and let me tell you, those eyes of his say volumes.

Three weeks passed in this manner. Then Inspector Dickson got married, to Sandy Thorn of all people, and since I was the best man, of course I had to go. And Lethira, of course, was there.

I saw her a few times, but not once did I make eye contact. I certainly did not speak to her. When we departed, I felt a certain gloomy satisfaction in my accomplishment.

But I was not happy. And I was even less happy when Calum Thorne came the next morning with pensive, hopeful face and asked of me permission to court Laufeia. Naturally I gave it to him. Then, when he left, I ran to my room and paced the floor for three solid hours.

When I came down for lunch, Fenris met my gaze for the briefest time, with a face full of pain and concern for me. Then he dropped his eyes to his plate and did not lift them again. He ate little.

For me that was the last straw. When I glanced up at the end of the meal and saw Fenris' barely touched food, I jumped up, knocking my chair to the ground, and fled the house.

With something that I refused to admit to be tears blinding my eyes, I saddled Smoke and leaped onto his back. I kicked my heels into his sides, and rode I knew not where. I hated love for existing... Roger Lewis for devastating my love... and myself for a lot of things, but mostly ruining my brother's life.

At last, from sheer weariness, the frenzied turmoil inside me began to lessen. I let Smoke's speed slacken to a walk and rested my arms on his neck, dropping my head in them. He and I were both exhausted, and his pace slowed almost to a snail's while my head sank lower on his neck. Then he shied half-heartedly – I do not know what from. But in my half-asleep state, it took no more than that to jolt me from the saddle.

Startled awake, I staggered to my feet, muttering weakly, "Ouch." I noticed vaguely that I was at a place where the road faded into grass and for-est. If my memory served me right, this road was the road the Fergusons lived on. ... I stared around at the sun mingling with the shadows of the trees. Somewhere above my head a quail whistled. My fatigue hung on me like a dead weight, and the thought of rest was comforting. Slowly I stumbled over to a huge, ancient ash tree and sat with my back against it. I let all thoughts and words go from my consciousness under the warm embrace of the sun and fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

When I awoke my eyes opened immediately. I was in the queer state where one's mind is clear and alert, but not all connections with the body have yet been made. I felt utterly inert and at the same time strangely light and weightless, as though my mind might at any moment break loose from its moorings entirely and float away into unknown places. For me it was a highly pleasant sensation, and one I would have liked to prolong. But it was at that moment that I saw her.

There she stood, Lethira Ferguson, her horse's bridle held lightly in one hand. The sun shone down fierce and hot on the shimmering cascade of red-gold hair, as though it was endeavouring to strike a spark from something which so resembled fire. Her grey riding cloak, clasped at the throat with a silver brooch, fell over her shoulders in loose folds to her feet. Her dress was belted securely at the waist... it was green. She always did love green. The fire in her hazel eyes was subdued by the sadness that was there also.

I could not have spoken if my life depended on it. Never before or since did Lethira Ferguson look so beautiful, except once, and that was on her wedding day. After that, some Lethira Kenhelm eclipsed her.

Yet I did not have to even open my mouth. Lethira's lips parted. There was a second of absolute silence. Then she spoke as though the words were bursting from her in a torrent of agony.

"You cannot think any worse of me than you do already. I know you do not love me, and I cannot expect you ever to. I want to say only this." Her words came out almost in a whisper. "I will never marry Roger Lewis."

Then she was gone. The sound of hooves faded into stillness.

Like a man in a dream I rose and mounted the placidly grazing Smoke. A faint smile twitched on my lips and hovered there as I rode home. At the dinner table that evening I filled my plate three times, enjoying the startled, even shocked, expression on Laufeia's face and the glad one on Fenris'.

I rode to the Fergusons' early in the morning.

To be honest, I don't remember exactly what I said to Lethira when I got a moment alone with her. But it probably wasn't appropriate for little girls to hear.

"The end," Mordred finished with a sigh.

"And then what happened?" persisted Linnetta.

Mordred groaned in feigned protest. "And then once upon a time after I'd courted Lethira for awhile I presented her with an betrothal ring and re-quested her to do me the unbelievable honour of becoming my wife. Before she could say yes, McKay came down the road calling hello and I dropped the ring and spent ten hectic minutes crawling in the grass to find it again."

She giggled. "And then what happened?"

"And then Inspector Dickson and Sandy left for the north of Orden so he could get a better job and we've never seen him since."

"And then what happened?"

"Then Lethira turned eighteen and I married her and we lived happily ever after until a little girl was born to us who pestered her father for the same boring stories over and over again. The End." Mordred looked over slyly at his listening wife. "Did you like it?"

Lethira stood up with an exasperated sigh. "I declare, every time you tell her that story you add some new parenthetical remark. Right about the color your hair is going these days, indeed! Mordred Kenhelm, your hair is still as black as ink."

Mordred shook his head sadly. "That doesn't amount to much. Down in Orden City, I hear, someone invented white ink."

Lethira threw up her hands. "White ink! Land sakes, what good does white ink do anybody?"

Mordred stood, stretched his tall frame, and rolled his eyes upwards in disgust. "Who knows."

***

I would have added commentary here and there, but it's late and I'm trying to go to bed...