In Which Halford's Wife Is Not Herself

June 11, 1160

"All right, honey, I'm finally home!" called Halford triumphantly as he stepped into his house. Earlier that afternoon, he'd discovered a rotten board in the fence of the pigpen, and had been forced to take only a few minutes to go and fetch a replacement plank from the woodpile behind the house. 'Only a few minutes', however, had been sufficient time for Bacon and Pork to escape.

Pork was a rather fat pig who could not have gotten far in any case, so it had been no trouble to find him; he'd barely made it to the road. Bacon, however, was a prime example of porcine athleticism if Halford had ever seen one. He'd chased her all the way to the duke's keep, then from there to Florian's old house, and then his new house. She'd then led him to the village in Veldorashire and the pond where everyone went to have sex, up to the church by the castle... and then he'd had to stop to take a breath. By the time he'd recovered, she was long gone.

So at last, he'd headed home, only to find Bacon safe and sound in the pen, happily making piglets with Ham. Go figure. Oh well, now he could go to his wife and work on some babies of his own.

Unfortunately, it appeared that Arydath had already gone to bed. The baby-making would have to wait another night. That damn pig!

Frustrated, Halford kicked off his boots and trudged into the bedroom, where he was greeted by the sight of his sleeping wife.

He found her just as he always did--snoring loudly, drooling every which way, eyes rolling back to the of her head as their lids rapidly flickered open and shut. God, she was beautiful; so divine was she in her obvious imperfection that it almost seemed a sin to wake her.

How had he been so lucky to have found a woman such as she? He could search the ends of the earth, he was sure, and never find another quite like his Arydath--there never would be another. It made him almost sad, knowing that his own son would never find a woman who would even come close to the splendor that was Arydath.

Smiling, Halford quickly undressed and pulled back the covers on his side of the bed, careful not to disturb her as he settled himself to the mattress. Then, as he always did, he shuffled toward her, gently wrapping her in his arms as he rested his chin at the nape of her neck.

Suddenly, the snoring stopped--she was awake. Damn his carelessness!

On the other hand... he thought deviously as he began to caress her thigh. Perhaps Bacon hadn't prevented the conception of his fourth child after all.

His fingers slowly crawled up the inside of her legs, past the confines of her shift. He was getting close, he knew; it was only a matter of time before she turned around and...

"Not tonight, you great dolt," she muttered gruffly. "It's not your birthday."

"So...?" he pried breathily. This was odd; Arydath was ordinarily up for sex any day of the week.

She shoved his hand away and pulled herself upwards. "Stupid pig. You know better than that, Corry."

"Who the hell is Corry?" yawned Halford. "I'm not in the mood to be angry right now, but I'll beat the living shit out of him tomorrow."

She replied with a silence broken only by her footsteps as she made her way around the bed. Then--

"Up. Now."

Clearly, she wasn't her usual self. Not wanting to anger her any further, Halford stood. "Look, I don't see what the problem is here. I'm sorry if I did something to hurt you, but you normally don't mind, so--"

"Normally?" she shrieked, cutting him off. "Normally? What the hell is wrong with you, you useless sack of potatoes? None of this is normal--that is, unless you make it a such practice to randomly get into bed with women and fondle their cunts with your filthy sausage fingers that you forget who you've already felt up and who you haven't? Damn you, Halford! My God, just wait 'til I tell Arydath about this! I swear, I'll..."

Just wait 'til I tell Arydath? What on earth did she mean by...?

Oh, God!

The resemblance, as always, was uncanny. She had the same cinnamon hair, the same ebony eyes, the same small stature and olive skin... and yet, this was not his Arydath. It was not her nose, nor were those her brows, and though they were barely visible in the darkness, the bags under her eyes and the wrinkles by her mouth did most definitely not belong on the face of his twenty-five-year-old wife.

But what was she doing here?

"Hilla!" he gasped in horrified recognition. "My God! Why in the hell are you here?"

"Well, after my son died, I figured I'd come over here to live with my daughter," she spat bitterly, "only to find out the ass she married is a bloody lecher! That girl never did know how to pick a man!"

Halford scowled. "In case you forgot, you're the one who made her marry me!"

"Well, we both thought you'd knocked her up at the time, didn't we?" screeched Hilla. "You damn kids and your stupid pranks! I still can't believe she opened her legs just to get the last laugh--you're just lucky her father was long dead at the time, or else he'd've strapped you to the back of a bull and poked it in the ass with a red-hot brand! Now, get the hell outta here!"

That was a request he was only too happy to fulfill.

Or at least, so he thought until he saw his wife just outside the bedroom door, one hand on her hip, staring him down as he entered the kitchen. Halford swallowed nervously.

She had heard it all, he was quite sure, though her expression was unnervingly neutral. Perhaps she was in shock--and really, what woman wouldn't be? Hopefully, she'd realize that it was just all a misunderstanding; surely, she didn't think he'd ever feel up her mother on purpose, did she?

He opened his mouth to explain, but before he could say a word--

"Oh, Halford, you're an idiot!" Arydath cackled appreciatively, catching herself with one arm as she bent forward with unyielding laughter. "You just got into bed with my mother and didn't even notice that she wasn't me! I can't wait until the kids are old enough for me to tell them about this! Can't you just imagine the look on their faces?"

That was all he needed to hear--he understood completely.

"You planned this, didn't you?" he snarled as he lunged toward her, tickling her in his fury--he couldn't bring himself to do anything worse. "Dammit, woman! You and your jokes!"

"You must admit, it was terribly funny," she insisted with a chuckle.

"If it was anyone else, maybe!"

Arydath rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't be such a killjoy! Anyway, I was just going to sleep in the children's room until we get Mother a bed of her own. Join me? I promise you that this woman won't snap at you, no matter where you stick any of your sausages."

"In the children's room?" he repeated as he continued to run his fingers all over her. "Are you mad?"

"The children are spending the night at Florian and Thetis's," she insisted. "Besides, Mother kept me up with her yelling--I have to get my revenge by keeping her up with my moaning."

Halford grinned. "Well, I can't exactly say no to that, can I?"

"Will you kids keep it down?" yelled Hilla from the bedroom. "Relentless little scamps, your generation, always with your minds in your naughty bits! Why, back in my day, we'd've never even dreamed of..."

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