'No, you won't,' said a deep voice. A large hand took hold of Bane's arm, drawing him up until he sat on the boulder. Bane blinked, and saw a flask being offered to him. He took it and sipped the contents. The fire of uisge flowed through him. He looked up into the red-bearded face of Gryffe, his lead herdsman. The outlaw grinned at him. 'You're weak as a three-day puppy,' he said.

Bane drank again, and tried to push the stopper back into the flask. The task was beyond him. Gryffe took the flask, stoppered it, and tucked it into the pocket of his jerkin. 'Let's be getting you to a fire,' he said, throwing Bane's arm round his neck and hauling him upright.

Twenty minutes later, his ice-covered clothes removed, his body wrapped in a warm blanket, he sat before a log fire. It was excruciating. His skin felt as if hot needles were being pricked into him constantly. He drank more uisge, but Gryffe took the flask away. 'It's good to take a little when cold, but not too much.'

Gryffe's woman, the plump and plain Iswain, appeared from the kitchen, carrying a dish of thick meat broth. 'Eat!' she commanded. 'You need some proper warmth in your belly.'

Bane did so, and after a while began to feel better, the pins and needles wearing off. Iswain pulled the blanket clear of his neck and began rubbing warmed oil into the skin of his shoulders, arms, and upper back.

'Thank you,' he said, taking her callused hand and kissing the knuckles.

'That's enough of that!' said Gryffe. 'You'll spoil the wench!'

'Do you good to learn some proper manners,' said Iswain, lifting the blanket back over Bane's shoulders. She moved round to squat in front of Bane, looking deeply into his eyes. 'I think you'll be fine now,' she told him. 'A good night's rest will help. You are lucky not to have frostbite. 'Twas a foolish thing to do!'

'You tell him, girl!' said Gryffe.

Bane smiled, and gazed into Iswain's plain features. 'I could have been here earlier,' he said, 'but I wanted to be mothered by you.'

She gave a gap-toothed grin. 'Like all men you are an idiot,' she told him. 'I'll get you more broth.'

'I am full,' said Bane.

'You'll do as you're told,' she said sternly. 'I've known men come in from the cold and then die in their beds. You'll sit by this fire and eat until I tell you otherwise.'

'Aye, he will,' put in Gryffe. 'And, if it please you, I will have some of that broth. I was in the cold too.'

'No more for you,' said Iswain. 'I have no taste for fat men, and already your stomach is straining your belt.'