Clink. Clink.
Horses moved softly below, bumping and clinking their chains. Ina sat darning by candle light, a stocking torn by a stray hoof. Occasionally a horse would lash out at her, but only when in distress. She still bore the bruise from this one, just below the knee, but horse wounds did not pain her. There was worse hurt in the world.
She yawned and rubbed her eyes. It was very late, by rights she should be in bed, but she wanted this stocking mended for the morning. She was almost finished when her sharp ears detected a sound in the stable below. A horse whinnied. There was somebody down there. Ina silently laid aside her stocking, and rising noiselessly she slid one hand under her rough mattress. She drew out a fire-iron, a long black poker complete with an iron horse-head to serve as a handle. She crept to the top of the rough wooden stairs that led down to the stable proper, and a shape moved in the gloom below. Ina gripped the poker tightly and held it ready at her side. This was not the first time she had had intruders in her stables at night.
The person in the shadows had not seen her. He – it was almost certainly a man – was lingering by one of the stalls. Whatever his intentions, theft or otherwise, she could show him a thing or two with the poker, she'd done it before. This had not helped her reputation in the capital – the crazy dun-haired horse girl with the dangerous chunk of metal.
The stair creaked and he looked up. Ina decided to make it known that she had discovered him.
"Pray sir, what brings you to the stables at this late hour?" she said in a cold voice. There was no reply. She said "Sir, unless you have reason to be here I must ask you to leave." She held the poker in plain view as she descended the steps, and the figure took a step back into the shaft of moonlight that shone through the horse door. At once she saw – the crouching, apologetic stance, the bulk of his robes in silhouette were unmistakeable. She opened her mouth to speak, but he turned and made as if to leave.
"My Lord!" she cried, and then was ashamed of her loud outburst. He looked back in fright at the poker, and she exclaimed and cast it aside. "My Lord, I am sorry, I did not realise…I often have trouble, men who sneak in at night to…or, or rowdy children looking to rattle the horses." He blinked, and spoke.
"The fault is mine. I should not have come. I should not have disturbed you…" he made as if to leave again, seemingly desperate to stay in control of the situation. Ina was suddenly desperate for him not to go. "No, Lord, stay! Please, I welcome your visit; it makes such a change from-" she stopped. She had been about to say the loneliness, the cold, the empty night.
He smiled, a very small, very hesitant smile, gone as soon as it appeared. She smiled at him, as warmly as she knew how. Her mind whirled. Should she invite him up to her quarters? It might seem forward, and she was suddenly and desperately ashamed of her two tiny rooms at the top of the steps. Still, there was a chair, and the icy night air did not touch her rooms as harshly as they did the stable. Before she could give it any more thought she said, "Come upstairs, it is not so cold." She turned and led the way, not daring to look to see if he followed.
She reached the top of the rough plank stairs and went quickly into her sitting room, picked up the half-darned stocking and stowed it in her sewing box. Still he didn't come. Her heart felt heavy – perhaps he was disgusted, perhaps he was intimidated… A creak on the stairs stilled her anxious thoughts. Her heart beat faster as his shadow entered the room a pace or two ahead of him. He stood, unsure in the doorway, and looked to her with beseeching eyes and an open mouth. She held out her arms to him and he embraced her. The candle on its box in the corner blew out in the draught of his robes. She held him like that in the near-dark, moonlight picking out edges and corners in silver, for a long time. She could feel his heartbeat, as fast as hers, and she broke their embrace to look at him. She leaned in to kiss him in the darkness, and felt as close to love as she could remember; assuming she could remember it.
Horses moved softly below, bumping and clinking their chains. Ina sat darning by candle light, a stocking torn by a stray hoof. Occasionally a horse would lash out at her, but only when in distress. She still bore the bruise from this one, just below the knee, but horse wounds did not pain her. There was worse hurt in the world.
She yawned and rubbed her eyes. It was very late, by rights she should be in bed, but she wanted this stocking mended for the morning. She was almost finished when her sharp ears detected a sound in the stable below. A horse whinnied. There was somebody down there. Ina silently laid aside her stocking, and rising noiselessly she slid one hand under her rough mattress. She drew out a fire-iron, a long black poker complete with an iron horse-head to serve as a handle. She crept to the top of the rough wooden stairs that led down to the stable proper, and a shape moved in the gloom below. Ina gripped the poker tightly and held it ready at her side. This was not the first time she had had intruders in her stables at night.
The person in the shadows had not seen her. He – it was almost certainly a man – was lingering by one of the stalls. Whatever his intentions, theft or otherwise, she could show him a thing or two with the poker, she'd done it before. This had not helped her reputation in the capital – the crazy dun-haired horse girl with the dangerous chunk of metal.
The stair creaked and he looked up. Ina decided to make it known that she had discovered him.
"Pray sir, what brings you to the stables at this late hour?" she said in a cold voice. There was no reply. She said "Sir, unless you have reason to be here I must ask you to leave." She held the poker in plain view as she descended the steps, and the figure took a step back into the shaft of moonlight that shone through the horse door. At once she saw – the crouching, apologetic stance, the bulk of his robes in silhouette were unmistakeable. She opened her mouth to speak, but he turned and made as if to leave.
"My Lord!" she cried, and then was ashamed of her loud outburst. He looked back in fright at the poker, and she exclaimed and cast it aside. "My Lord, I am sorry, I did not realise…I often have trouble, men who sneak in at night to…or, or rowdy children looking to rattle the horses." He blinked, and spoke.
"The fault is mine. I should not have come. I should not have disturbed you…" he made as if to leave again, seemingly desperate to stay in control of the situation. Ina was suddenly desperate for him not to go. "No, Lord, stay! Please, I welcome your visit; it makes such a change from-" she stopped. She had been about to say the loneliness, the cold, the empty night.
He smiled, a very small, very hesitant smile, gone as soon as it appeared. She smiled at him, as warmly as she knew how. Her mind whirled. Should she invite him up to her quarters? It might seem forward, and she was suddenly and desperately ashamed of her two tiny rooms at the top of the steps. Still, there was a chair, and the icy night air did not touch her rooms as harshly as they did the stable. Before she could give it any more thought she said, "Come upstairs, it is not so cold." She turned and led the way, not daring to look to see if he followed.
She reached the top of the rough plank stairs and went quickly into her sitting room, picked up the half-darned stocking and stowed it in her sewing box. Still he didn't come. Her heart felt heavy – perhaps he was disgusted, perhaps he was intimidated… A creak on the stairs stilled her anxious thoughts. Her heart beat faster as his shadow entered the room a pace or two ahead of him. He stood, unsure in the doorway, and looked to her with beseeching eyes and an open mouth. She held out her arms to him and he embraced her. The candle on its box in the corner blew out in the draught of his robes. She held him like that in the near-dark, moonlight picking out edges and corners in silver, for a long time. She could feel his heartbeat, as fast as hers, and she broke their embrace to look at him. She leaned in to kiss him in the darkness, and felt as close to love as she could remember; assuming she could remember it.