[piosenniel]

Madoc helped unload the provisions then stepped back as some of the lads from Great Smials tucked them away. Others in the village had begun sorting them out into bundles, to be parceled out to the grateful folk who had already begun queuing up.

Prisca had stayed to help him and when the work was done they gathered up a basket of foodstuffs for their family and started home. ‘Wait,’ said Madoc, turning back to those who were handing out baskets. ‘I have to take back Gaffer Heathertoes wagon and team, so just let me take a basket back for them also.’

A half hour’s ride brought them to the Heathertoes’ burrow. The ponies whinnied as they neared the familiar barn, picking up their pace anxious to be back in the comfort of their stalls. The door to the burrow swung open as Madoc and Prisca climbed down from the wagon. The gaffer’s querulous question challenged their presence.

‘Who’s out there, stamping about in my yard?’ he demanded, his old eyes squinting out into the evening’s dim, grey light. ‘Oh my!’ His eyes caught sight of his ponies who, freed from their harnesses, ran up to nuzzle their old master.

‘Who is it, Da?’ Fairlight stepped into the doorway. Her face lit up with delight at the sight of the ponies. Another smile, wider than the first, beamed out as she caught sight of Madoc. Prisca nudged him, and he stepped forward as Fairlight came out to greet them. ‘We visited . . . often,’ Prisca whispered to him, giving him a sisterly shove to the small of his back.

There was an awkward moment of silence between Madoc and Fairlight once they stood face to face. He mumbled something unintelligible as he handed her the basket, then began taking the bow and quiver from his back, preparing to hand it back to her. Her hand came up and rested lightly on his arm, staying his efforts. ‘Keep it,’ she said in a clear voice. ‘I have no use for it.’ She looked closely at his face. ‘I trust you had good use of it.’

Madoc nodded, a grim look coming on his face for a few moments. ‘This homecoming is a pleasant time. Press me no further now about the journey, and I will tell you later of how your husband’s bow revenged his death.’

Prisca and the Gaffer stood close to each other, a conspiratorial look on their faces. ‘Madoc,’ directed Prisca, ‘take the small buggy and go get Ma, why don’t you. Fairlight and I and the Gaffer will get some supper going.’

Gaffer Heathertoes linked his arm through Fairlight’s and winked at Prisca as she picked up the two baskets of food and proceeded on into the little house. ‘Go on now, Maddy!’ called his sister, laughing as she closed the door behind her.

~*~

Madoc’s mother was overjoyed when she opened the door to his light knock. She hugged him so tight he could barely breathe, and her tears wet the front of his vest as she buried her grey curls against his chest. He, in turn, sighed gratefully at her embrace, murmuring words of relief at being home once again.

When she had wiped her eyes and a smile was on her face, Madoc slipped her cloak about her and ushered her out to the cart. They spoke of pleasant things as they went along; though often she would turn to him and catch the sadness that hid behind his smile.

The Gaffer came out to greet them as they pulled into the yard and shooed them into the cheery little dwelling while he put the cart and pony away. Delicious smells from the soup pot one grate greeted them, as did the enticing smell of fresh-made biscuits. Dinner passed in pleasant conversations – tales of what was happening in Tuckburrough brought them through the small dessert of dried apple pie. It was late when they had finished, and the Gaffer pressed them to stay. The snow had begun falling lightly and he saw no reason they should head home in it.

Fairlight and Madoc sat up late at the worn kitchen table, sharing the last of the chamomile tea. The others had gone off to bed and were tucked snugly under warm quilts, their bellies full, smiles on their faces. The little fire in the kitchen grate had burned down low, its orange embers winking into the shadows in the room. A comfortable silence had grown between Madoc and Fairlight as the fire hissed and popped.

‘Tell me if you will about the bow now, Madoc.’ Fairlight broke the silence with her quiet question.

Madoc leaned back in his chair, a frown on his face as he sucked in his breath. It had been so pleasant, this evening with friends and family . . . sitting here with her now . . . She leaned forward, putting her hand lightly on his arm to encourage him.

‘Go on,’ she said quietly.

Haltingly at first, the words fell from his lips . . .