Sigefrith and Leofric meet a dragon
“It’s been terribly quiet up there for a while,” Leofric said.
Sigefrith lifted his head and blinked at him, as if he had been nodding off in his chair. Sleeping!
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Sir Sigefrith asks a favor
“So what was the favor you wanted to ask me?” Egelric asked.
“Oh, that!” Sir Sigefrith laughed awkwardly. Under the agreeable influence of Alwy Hogge’s celebrated cider, he had almost forgotten why he came. “I should say that I can’t expect another favor after the tremendous generosity you have shown me in introducing me to your lovely wife.”
Iylaine tries to escape
Iylaine ran, ran, as fast as she could run, her dress flying, her hair wild. She scarcely touched the earth with her feet, but when she did, she was certain that it trembled beneath her fury.
She realized almost too late that she was heading, as always, for the hollow tree beside the brook. She could not bear even that today. She could bear nothing that reminded her of anything. She could not bear the breath in her lungs that reminded her that she was alive. She could not bear the dull ache that lay low in her belly and seemed like the new core of her being.
Synne steps into the light
Murchad sat and stared down into the cold fireplace. It was, of course, absurd to stare at a nonexistent fire, but it allowed him to avoid meeting the eyes of the servants and maids that passed through the hall on their way to and from the tower.
He had not thought of the servants and maids. The new hall was always empty at this time of day, but he had forgotten how many people passed through on their way to somewhere else. He wished that he had chosen another place to wait, but he was too shy to go announce that he would wait elsewhere.
Synne is shown her way
Synne lay still on her bed and listened to the rain. She was not a melancholy girl and did not ordinarily appreciate storms, but tonight a vague feeling of dissatisfaction lay over her like the sluggish fog that blanketed the moat, and the grumble of the distant thunder expressed her feelings nicely.
It had not been raining that afternoon, and she had been able to go out with Freya and Ana and the boys, but these outings were no longer the pleasure they had lately been. Malcolm’s “cousin” Iylaine had suddenly begun joining them, and it felt as if everything had changed.
Malcolm tests his mastery
Malcolm had left Druid at the stables at Nothelm and had come up the hill alone. He was not certain he would find Iylaine here, but he knew that if he went to ask at Gunnilda’s, she would send Bedwig along with him to “help him look for her.” Bedwig was worse than an open door.
Anyway, he knew that she lately spent most of her time in the woods above the stable. He did not know what she did there, for it was impossible to sneak up on the girl, but the advantage of her keen ears was that he needn’t walk far in search of her. If she were anywhere in the area, she would hear him call—although that was no guarantee that she would come to him.
Wynflaed tries to clear her mind
Mouse fell back onto her bed with a hearty sigh. “What a day!”
Wynflaed smoothed out her blankets in silence.
Sir Sigefrith cuts short the walk
Sigefrith could not remember the last time he had spent an afternoon so at ease among ladies. His own family was so complicated that no relations between them were simple.
His mother was jealous, and he could never spend time with her without being reproached for not spending more time with her. His sister was a dear, but they never agreed about what to think of their father, and lately she was unhappy about the nonchalance with which he treated the subject of Matilda’s daughter. And his very thoughts shuddered away from his wife.
Sir Sigefrith climbs the hill
Brid Oswaldsson had built his house as far from the road as he could without placing it quite on the windy hilltop. The barn, the cowshed, and the other outbuildings thus stood between it and the road, and the house stood as aloof as a keep behind its curtain wall.
The farmhands had eyed Sir Sigefrith warily as he walked between the buildings. He did not like the look of them. Men with nothing to reproach themselves would not have avoided contact with him. Some of the shadiest-looking of these even scattered at his approach. It was as he had feared.
Synne speaks of beards
Malcolm laughed at her joke, and after a moment’s hesitation Murchad did as well. Synne had a nagging suspicion that she was not being quite as ladylike as Sigefrith had asked, but it came so easily! She had never felt so glib.
It was also true that she had never before drunk so much wine.
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