He bowed his head a little, took a deep breath.

“In his household she was like a wild creature set suddenly in the farmyard, like a fledgling owl in a chicken coop. With her deep silence, with the strange task she was compelled to do, working in pain and solitude under the uncomprehending eyes of his family, she filled him with a confusion such as he had never known before. He could do little but protect her; it seemed imperative to keep her safe. He did not understand what she did, but he knew, somehow, that he must help her achieve the task, if he were ever to hear her voice, if he were ever to be able to tell her…to tell her…”

I opened my mouth to speak, then bit back the words. But I must have made some small sound, for Red went very still for an instant, and his head turned. The thick blindfold cut off all sight; but he knew, now, that I was there.

“In his house, she grew and changed, but was still, unmistakably, herself. Strong, sweet, and true. Without speech, she spoke to him as no other could, straight to the heart, with her graceful, disfigured hands and her wide green eyes. Though he was often lost for words, she understood him as no other had ever done. He watched her weep over her hands, which were swollen and hardened from her work, and heard others call them ugly. He saw what others could not see, saw the power, the gentleness, and the beauty of those hands, and he lay awake at night and longed for the touch of them on his body. But she had been hurt, and terrified, and she shrank from him. He could not tell her the words of his heart. He dared not risk frightening her away, for if he lost her, he lost everything. Every day, it became clearer to him, going about the business of his house and his estate. Without her, he would have no life.”

There was a marked distaste in Conor’s voice as he translated this, but he was bound to be accurate, as there were at least three of us there who understood the tongue of the Britons. Then Conor said, “I am starting to dislike this tale.” His tone was like a knife thrust. “If this man possessed such feelings, why did he leave the girl to the mercies of his kinsman, who was both traitor and madman? How could a man guilty of such an error of judgment ever be worthy of a woman such as this peerless creature you describe?”

“With respect,” said Red, and his voice had gone so quiet people hushed each other to hear him, “my tale is as yet unfinished; you should hear me out. And it is her answer I have come to hear, not yours.”

“Let the man finish,” said my father. “For a Briton, he has a way with words. Hearing him commits us to no decision.”