Egelric looks into his father's eyes
“Why—that you, Egelric?” Alwy grinned, peering into his face.
“Yes, Alwy—I’m sorry to wake you but I need Gunnilda—I mean Elfleda does—I mean—can you get her?”
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Ethelmund goes out to the barn
“What are you doing, Ethelmund?” Githa asked quietly.
Ethelmund had gone out to the barn after dinner to get her old spindle down from the loft, as she had dropped and broken the new one he had made last year. When he didn’t return, she went out looking for him. And now she could not merely stand in the barn with a breaking heart but had to say something, and so she had to ask, “What are you doing, Ethelmund?”
Egelric stops by for a chat
“Good morning, Gunnilda!” Egelric called brightly as he came through the door at dawn. “I’ve got a bit of early sunshine for you right here. She already ate with her Da so no need to feed her.”
Gunnilda stood before the fire with her back to him.
Gunnilda escapes
Gunnilda stepped into the cool night air with a feeling of relief. It was dark, and no one could see her, and she could be alone.
She went mincing up into the woods behind the house; in her bare feet she couldn’t go elsewhere than on the path that led to Egelric’s farm, so halfway there she stopped and turned her face deliberately to the north, where neither her nor Egelric’s farm lay, and where she could have seen the road had it been daylight.
Alwy tries something new
Gunnilda hurriedly undressed and smoothed out the sheets before getting into bed. Alwy was stretched out on the floor in the other room next to Bertie, telling the children a story before bed: something with lots of bears and wolves and gore, by Bertie’s request. She was hoping that she would be able to fall asleep—or at least appear to—by the time Alwy came to bed.
But she would not be so lucky tonight.
Alwy has another question
“Father Brandt! Oh, Father Brandt!”
“What is it, young Alwy?” Father Brandt had just been rushing off to the church, but he always tried to spare a minute for poor Alwy Hogge.
Alwy waits up
Walking into her house felt like walking into the oven, even at this late hour. After the slow stroll with Egelric in the cool night air, it was terribly hard to enter the hot house—alone.
Gunnilda lit a candle and then closed the door. Bertie was sleeping naked atop his blanket, poor sweaty little thing. She undressed in the middle of the room, and then stepped over him to go back into the stifling little bedroom where Alwy was sleeping.
Only Alwy wasn’t sleeping.
Midsummer Night
Gunnilda lay in a hay-filled wagon with Iylaine in her arms while the men put out the bonfire and took the body away. Alwy had taken Bertie and Wynnie home long ago, unconcerned, for he knew nothing of what had passed between his wife and Everth; he knew only that an accident had occurred that had spoiled the festival. From Egelric she had received a look that said plainly, “Stay.” And so she had climbed atop the wagon, and waited.
The girl was sleepy now, her fun over, so she sprawled across Gunnilda’s chest and slept with her little head tucked beneath Gunnilda’s chin.
This was the second person Gunnilda had seen burned this year. She could not feel sorry for Everth Cullen—the man was too malevolent. There had been that macabre threat of the dead piglet in a child’s dress, and then the way he had held his hands before her throat as he explained how he would strangle her.
Midsummer Eve
Gunnilda was sorry that Midsummer Eve happened to be the longest day of the year. The heat had been intense this past week, and even after supper, with the sun still shining, it would have been enough to make her sweat just sitting still. And sitting still was not a luxury Gunnilda Hogge often had, least of all tonight.
As the sun finally began to set, she rounded up her “four children”—namely Bertie, Wynna, Alwy, and Iylaine—and headed for the commons. Elfleda was feeling unwell due to the heat and was at home in bed, while Egelric was already at the commons helping the men prepare the bonfires. Thus Gunnilda carried Iylaine and Alwy carried Wynna, and Bertie came bouncing alongside.
Alone among them, Gunnilda was not in a very festive mood this evening. She was tired from having been on her feet all day, she had been unable to wear her best dress after finding that the mice had made a nest of it in the chest, her hair was sticking to her damp neck—and when did Iylaine get so heavy? And after sweltering all day, she was going to spend an hour or two standing around a bonfire.
Alwy asks the priest
Father Brandt was shuffling up the hill from Nothelm, his head bent and his chin tucked into his beard. He had just seen young Lord Dunstan, and there was something about the boy that troubled him: He was just too timid. He was not simply shy—in fact, he could be quite friendly—but he was afraid of so many things. Afraid of horses, afraid of dogs, afraid of thunder, afraid of the dark, afraid of being alone.
Not like that Bertie boy, Father Brandt thought as he came upon the Hogge farm. That boy could use a good scare to knock some sense into him.
As he passed, Bertie’s father came trotting up to him.
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Chapters“I’m spinning my W.W.A.S.D (What Would an Angry Scotsman Do) thing I got for Christmas and its landing on.…. Use Colorful Language.”
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