Two days of sodden weather had dampened their spirits all the more. Cuthbert had passed up that road toward the court and headed directly for the West Country. He hoped to make his farmstead in only a few more days.

Anya was despondent, not knowing her own mind even now. Her fear of being able to adapt to the foreign culture put a fear in her she could not stifle. While she did desire Cuthbert as a man, she feared him as an officer of the King of the Saxe.

Cuthbert took her mood as rejection. He felt dejected & forlorn. Nonetheless, steeliness was building in him to have the woman regardless of any consequence. He had threatened her with thralldom but knew he would not want her as a slave. He admired the fire in her & detested the idea of having to beat it from her should he choose to take all her freedoms. To keep her as vassal & serving wench did not sit well with him either but if that was his only choice he was now more prepared to except it. It was becoming obvious to him that his love of this woman was clouding his judgment.

Shortly past noon he sighted a bier near the road & dained use it as shelter until the wretched rain finally stopped.

The place seemed abandoned but still in sound shape with a nice dry roof. After caring for the animals, Cuthbert built a fire to dry them. Anya still sat muttering upon the seat of the cart wrapped in one of his cloaks. She was cold, wet, miserable, afraid, & oh so lonely. She shivered from the dampness as she watched him start preparing a hot meal for them. At last, she crept near the fire.

Cuthbert took note of her shivering; sliding near to her, he removed the wet garment & enveloped her within the folds of his cloak, holding her close, wrapped in his arms.