A feast and a fire

Early in February, the serfs and peasants of Nothelm were treated to an evening of feasting, music, and dancing at the castle in celebration of the birth of the Duke’s little daughter, the dark-​eyed Lady Ethelburga. The Duchess had had an easy time of it, which Colburga attributed to the fact that she had had a daughter instead of another ogrish man-​child, and was even able to attend the feast, seated pale and proud at the head of her table.

Egelric Wodehead was deeply honored to have been chosen to sit at that table as well. All of the others so honored were noblemen themselves, from the King on down to the Selle family, since Theobald after all was the son of the Baron of Thorhold. And he—Egelric Wodehead—born a serf of the Baron of Thorhold, was here seated with the Baron’s son! If only his father could have seen him!

He had asked Elfleda not to come. He thought that there must have been some trouble between her and the Duke of which he had never been told, and besides he didn’t want her spoiling the dinner with her sour face. He knew that since Baby could not have come she was not likely to have been pleasant with him or, as a result, with anyone else: she seemed to like him well enough as Dada, but to her husband she had nothing to say.

The only flaw in Egelric’s brilliant evening was due to the Wecta girl. Ever since that accursed afternoon in the barn, he had more than once caught her following him around, and she always smiled slyly at him when he came into the stables. He was beginning to avoid the place whenever he could manage to send a servant instead.

But this night it was clear that she wanted him to dance with her. She followed him with her eyes wherever he moved in the hall. She wasn’t the only one—he knew Gunnilda was watching him too… watching to see what he would do with the girl. Well, he would do nothing—let them both be disappointed.

Damn the lot of them. The only woman he could stomach these days was his little daughter. He would just see if Gunnilda was still looking at him… Yes, she was. What did he care, anyway?

Egelric’s sour musings were interrupted—along with the festivities—when a groom burst into the hall shouting the dread word:

“Fire!”

The men leapt to their feet and followed the groom to the stables, where flames were already licking up the walls.

“Open the doors!” Alred commanded.

One of the mighty plough horses had kicked through his stall door and in his dash for freedom nearly trampled the farmhand who had opened the heavy barn door.

Alred rushed in once the horse had passed, followed by a few of his men.

It was too late: the hay on the floor had caught fire and had already lit the hay in the loft above. The wooden floor of the loft could come crashing down at any time, bringing a ton of burning hay with it. The animals were screaming, but except for the lucky plough horse, they were trapped.

“Jupiter!” Alred called to his old warhorse as he retreated to the door, hoping that the stallion would kick through the gate and follow his master’s voice. Jupiter only danced in his stall and screamed.

But Egelric heard his master’s voice, and ran into the barn.

Seemingly oblivious to the flames, Egelric leapt over a burning bale and headed towards the frantic warhorse.

“What are you doing?” Alred shouted.

“The horses!” he yelled back, as he unlocked the door to Jupiter’s stall.

Alred could barely hear him over the shrieks of the horses and the roar of the flames. “It’s suicide, Egelric! Leave the horses! Get out of here!”

Jupiter was too panicked to run for the exit once his stall was open, so Egelric grabbed his halter and began tugging him towards the door. The horse seemed to recognize that this man could be trusted to do the right thing, and so at last he followed.

Once outside, he handed the halter to a groom and turned to run back into the barn.

This time he ran down the row of stalls, unlocking each door as he went, hoping that at least some of the horses would head outside of their own accord.

Alred’s relief at seeing Egelric come out with Jupiter changed to shock as he watched the man run back into the flames. Alred followed him back into the barn and could only just make out his silhouette behind a wall of fire, moving down the far row of stalls with the burning loft just over his head. “Egelric, Egelric, ” he pleaded, “forget the horses, save yourself!”

But Egelric did not answer—had not heard.

The horses would not move—there was a path to the door if they ran around the burning bales, but they could only see flames between their stalls and the open air.

In desperation Egelric pulled out his knife and stabbed a tall bay plough horse in the hip. The animal jumped forward, knocking Egelric into the wall. But once out of his stall, he charged down the only path open to him.

Alred had to leap outside to avoid being trampled. He had not seen Egelric going down.

Outside a crowd had gathered—the peasant women had followed their men to the barn, and the yard was a tumult of screaming women, panicked animals, and men vainly casting buckets of water onto the burning walls.

Having seen the first horse make his way to freedom, the other horses finally dared to follow, and one after another they charged through the open door until Alred had seen that they were all outside.

“Where’s Egelric?” he called as the last horse rushed past.

“Where’s Egelric?” He ran across the yard, going from man to man and asking after Egelric.

The girl Wecta, who had been holding one of the Duchess’s mares, saw him go by.

“Egelric! Egelric!” she cried, looking wildly around the yard. And then she let go of the mare’s halter and ran into the barn, calling his name.

They all saw her go, followed a moment later by her screaming mother. Alred leapt after them, shoving the Earl back outside as he went.

“He’s in here! He’s in here!” the girl was crying.

Alred moved to grab the girl by the arm, but he stopped and turned as he heard an ominous cracking. He watched, petrified, as the burning loft crashed down in a surge of flames on the far row of stalls, where he had last seen Egelric.