“No,” Ralo said. “I want that one.” He spoke to Bela, ignoring Modh. “You brought two home from that raid we went on. I didn't get one. I shared the danger, it's only fair you share the catch.” It was a sentence he had clearly rehearsed.

“You got one,” Bela said.

“What are you talking about?"

Bela looked uncomfortable. “You had one,” he said, in a less decisive voice.

“I came home with nothing!” Ralo cried, his voice rising, accusing. “And you kept two! Listen, I know you've brought them up all these years, I know it's expensive rearing girls. I'm not asking for a gift."

“You very nearly did,” Bela said, stiffly, in a low voice.

Ralo put this aside with a laugh. “Just keep in mind, Bela, we were soldiers together,” he said, cajoling, boyish, putting his arm round Bela's shoulders. “You were my captain. I don't forget that! We were brothers in arms. Listen, I'm not talking about just buying the girl. You married one sister, I'll marry the other. Hear that? We'll be brothers in the dirt, how's that?” He laughed and slapped his hand on Bela's shoulder. “How's that?” he said. “You won't be the poorer for it, Captain!"

“This is not the time to talk about it,” Bela said, awkward and dignified.

Ralo smiled and said, “But soon, I hope."

Bela stood, and Ralo had to take his leave. “Please send to tell me when Pretty Eyebrows is feeling better,” he said to Modh, with his smirk and his piercing glance. “I will come at once."

When he was gone Modh could not be silent. “Lord Husband, don't give Mal to him. Please don't give Mal to him."

“I don't want to,” he said.

“Then don't! Please don't!"

“It's all his talk. He boasts."

“Maybe. But if he makes an offer?"

“Wait till he makes an offer,” Bela said, a little heavily, but smiling. He drew her to him and stroked her hair. “How you fret over Mal. She's not really ill, is she?"