Father Brandt asks Ethelmund for help

Ethelmund Ashdown sang softly as he brushed his saddle horse. He was having a problem finding a third verse for his song—it either rhymed or it was funny. He was hoping to have it ready by the time Githa brought the girls back from visiting, but the sun was going down and it didn’t seem that he was going to finish.

“Too late, my lady!” he said to the mare as he heard steps coming up the path to the barn.

But the voice that called his name was certainly not Githa’s.

“Father Brandt! Welcome!”

It was the first time the Father had paid him a visit in the barn. But he looked grim.

Ethelmund had heard of the terrible omen of the broken altar and the smashed crucifix. He had hoped that Father Brandt would not believe it was a bad sign—Father Brandt looked not kindly on the superstitions of his flock. But it seemed that he was deeply troubled today.

“Good evening, young Ethelmund,” Father Brandt said. “Hast heard of the happenings this night past?”

“I have,” Ethelmund nodded. “It is a strange thing.”

“Hast heard the crucifix of the church has fallen and broken?”

Ethelmund nodded again.

“And in the King’s chapel?”

“The King’s chapel?”

“The crucifix therein was also broken this night. I like it not.”

Ethelmund gasped. “How could this happen?”

“I know not. But I did not come to ask thee to explain. I need thy help, young Ethelmund. I have seen the toys thou hast made for the children. Thou art a clever craftsman. The King would christen his babe and we have no crucifix, nor in the church nor in the chapel. Thou must carve one.”

“Me!” Ethelmund was stunned. “I know nothing about making holy things. I only make toys for the children.”

“Wood is wood!” Father Brandt chuckled. “It is not a holy thing until it has been blessed. I have seen the many faces of Noah—he was a more handsome man than Our Lord if our old crucifix was a likeness.”

Ethelmund smiled shyly.

“Canst thou make a crucifix big like so?” Brandt asked, holding up his hands. “It is for the chapel. If it be handsome enough, thou shalt carve the crucifix for the church later.”

“I shall certainly try,” Ethelmund said. Oh, what would Githa say about this!