Egelric walks out after the storm

The storm that rolled in that July afternoon served an entire generation as a point of comparison for all the storms that followed. For a night and a day it lashed the hills and the valley, overflowing the river with torrents of rain, flattening the wheat, uprooting trees, and pouring through thatch roofs. In the occasional moments that the rain slowed, the black sky lightened to a sickening shade of green that was more frightening than the lightning and hail itself. Peasants and noblemen alike huddled in their homes, more or less dry according to their stations, waiting for the punishment to end. And the wetter they were, the more often could the word “curse” be heard in their mutterings.

Egelric Wodehead awaited the end of the storm in the loft at Nothelm stables. The horses liked having him there—even the beasts seemed to recognize that Egelric Wodehead was a capable man who would know what to do in case of danger. And the Duke merely shrugged when Egelric had asked the favor. Egelric never begged an explanation, but it was clear to him that Alred could not stomach Elfleda any longer.

Matilda herself brought him inside those two evenings to dine with her and his young lordship. Egelric had been mortified—they said Matilda was the cousin of King Harold himself—but Dunstan was quite fond of him, and Egelric was able to hide his embarrassment by talking nonsense with the boy. Matilda was not nearly so enamored of Egelric as her husband was, but she enjoyed the idea of inviting him to dine with her noble self while that witch Elfleda stewed at home, alone.

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Egelric pays another visit

Egelric Wodehead stood outside the home of Alwy Hogge, where he had stood—what? a mere twelve hours before?—with Gunnilda. He hadn’t slept that night, and he hadn’t eaten that day, not yet daring to go home and face Elfleda. Furthermore, the day was oppressively hot and breezeless, and his hair and clothing clung to his damp skin. He felt—and looked—thoroughly miserable.

He hadn’t particularly wanted to face Gunnilda either, but he had an uncomfortable suspicion that he would need to explain things with her. Women had a way of—well, you couldn’t be sure.

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Gunnilda has a late visitor

Gunnilda Hogge was exhausted. Alwy and the children were all sick, and she had only just managed to get all three of them to sleep. Afterwards she had had to clean up the house and rinse her good shift and hang it to dry, for poor Wynna had crowned the evening by throwing up all over her mother.

She had not quite fallen asleep when she thought she heard a knocking.

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Egelric Returns

Night had already fallen by the time Egelric rode back onto his farm. He had ridden slowly on his return, unheeding the hour. As he rode past the castle, a few peasants who knew and respected him were disappointed when he didn’t respond to their greetings, didn’t seem to hear them even.

He stabled the mare and then trudged back to the house with a bundle under his arm. The fire had burned down to embers, and Elfleda wasn’t home. This was the crowning touch to the misery of this day.

He built the fire back up and then stood a while in the kitchen, wondering.

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Elfleda Asks a Favor

It was not yet dawn, but Elfleda Wodehead had already been awake for hours. The bread had been baked, the kitchen cleaned, and there would be nothing more to do until the sun rose. Even the chickens were sleeping. She wondered what she was supposed to do next.

She went back into the bedroom, where Egelric was sleeping soundly, and sat on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands. In the dim light that shone through the open door, she studied her feet. That gave her an idea.

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Alred Opens the Door

Alred woke, dimly realizing that something wasn’t right. He rolled over and looked around, but saw nothing out of place in the torchlit room. Ah, that was it—the torch was still lit. Too often he couldn’t make up his mind whether to sleep or not, and he would either put out the torch and then lie wide awake for hours, or leave the torch lit and fall asleep as soon as he lay down to relax a bit in bed. Tonight was one of the latter nights.

He got up thinking to extinguish it and go back to bed, but a breath of air from outside revealed that the night was warm—he would just step outside a moment and look out over the fields.

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Matilda Listens at the Door

“Mama! Mama! Mamaaaaaa!”

Matilda stirred.

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Father Brandt Reflects

Father Brandt frowned as he dressed for bed. He had been in Lothere for two months, and there were still too many things that troubled him. The gentlefolk were caught up in a mesh of quarrels and scandals that had so far resisted his efforts to unravel it. Meanwhile the common people were anxious: at first they had welcomed his coming as a sign that the so-​called curse was to be lifted, but as time passed and odd things continued happening, they had not only regained their fear of the curse but had also lost some of their faith in the church.

Indeed, the church itself seemed to be a focus of the mystery… If he met a peasant on his way to the church who told him that “the lights” had been seen there during the night, he could be sure that something would be amiss when he arrived. There might be a fat spider drowned in the jug of holy water, or a rat might have chewed the pages of a Bible—nothing very serious, nothing inexplicable, but it scarcely seemed to be coincidence any longer.

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Matilda Starts Awake

Matilda woke suddenly and sat up, her heart pounding. Somehow she felt that something was wrong—the baby? Panic gripped her for a moment, but a glance in the cradle by the bed reassured her. The little Lord Yware was sweetly sleeping, his thumb planted firmly in his mouth and the tiny fingers of his other hand clenching around something from his dream.

She listened carefully for a while, but the castle was silent.

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Father Brandt’s First Visitor

Father Brandt decided that Elfleda had had the right idea: he would eat the last of the bread and cheese in his pack and take a bath before presenting himself at the castle. He built a fire and ate while he unpacked, waiting for the water to boil. Once he was in his bath, however, he was free to turn his full attention to his thoughts.

Brandt von Engern was not the childlike man he must have seemed to Elfleda. His mind was sharp as a tack and his attention to detail remarkable. In listening to Elfleda’s chatter he had already learned the names of half the residents of the valley and a good deal of information about the lives of each.

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