and so he took his axe. This wasnât well received at the market, and he was certainly remembered, especially after threatening to cut a market trader in half for inappropriate comments about the size of his axe, but all in all, it went smoothly, if embarrassingly for Beetrax, and he returned to his room and penned a short note, which read:
----
Lillith. My love. My life.
Please come to my room tonight.
I have writ you a letter.
----
Love,
Trax X
----
H e sent it with an urchin for a copper piece, then set to work transforming his simple axemanâs roomâ¦
----
L illith stood outside the door , frowning. She took a deep breath and went to knock, but the door opened and Beetrax stood, in his cleanest trews, with a new black shirt that, actually, if Lillith thought about it, looked quite good on him. He smiled apprehensively. Lillith smiled back, although there was pain there.
âI wasnât going to come,â she said.
âI didnât expect you to,â he said, wretchedly.
âI⦠I just thought, I knew, I had to hear what you had to say. Before we⦠you know. Never saw one another again. Before we took a bow, and left the stage, you know?â
âAll your friends think Iâm no good,â said Beetrax, and clenched his teeth.
âItâs not that. Itâs just⦠the drinking. The fighting. And then you turn on me. I canât take it anymore, Trax. I canât take the uncertainty. And I know we think weâre in love,â he looked at her hard, then, âbut you have to know, if this isnât love, then itâs over, because nothing lasts forever.â
âLook. Just. Come in. Please.â
Lillith stepped across the threshold. And, if truth be told, she was stunned.
The walls were hung with drapes, red, gauzy drapes that gave the room an intimate warmth. Candles burned. Many candles burned. And Lillith knew Beetrax was not the type of man to light a candle. Drink a whiskey flagon? Yes. Buy candles and arrange them romantically and light them? No.
âYou expecting somebody, Beetrax?â she said, her voice low and husky.
âEr. Yes. You.â
âI know. You dolt. Is that a new comfort couch?â
âYes. Took three of us to carry it up the stairs. I hurt my back.â
âMmm.â
Beetrax looked sheepishly around. âYou like red, right?â he said.
âI love red.â
âAnd, and, I lit thirteen candles. You like thirteen, right?â
âI love thirteen. Itâs my favourite number.â
âYes. I remember.â
They stood there, staring at one another in the candlelight. Beetrax wanted to rush over, to take hold of her, to pick her up, to crush her, to love her, but he did not, he could not. Because heâd been a dick. And heâd fucked it up. Like he always fucked it up.
âI have cooked,â he said.
âYou have? What?â
âItâs, er, slivers of Randa fish on a bed of rice, salad and peppers. Then I razored some cheese shavings over the top. With a touch of garlic. And salt. Erâ¦â
âSounds divine,â said Lillith. âShall we go in? Sit? Eat?â
âYou want to stay?â
âYes.â
âWhy?â
âI want to read your letter.â
âAh,â said Beetrax.
Lillith looked crestfallen. âYou mean, you havenât writ the letter you said youâd writ?â
âNo. I writ it all right.â
âSo are you going to give it to me?â
âIâm just a little⦠embarrassed.â He stood there, like a small schoolboy whoâd forgotten his homework. Lillith decided to take pity on him. He was obviously making an effort. The biggest effort heâd ever made. Which for Beetrax, was quite something.
âTake me through,â she said, again, her voice low and husky.
Beetrax reached out, took Lillithâs hand, and led her through the main room to the kitchen. Here, he had