Saeward sticks to a life-altering scheme
On the third day, Saeward didn’t bother hurrying across the court. He had no kitten to hide. The little girl would not be there.
On the third day, Saeward didn’t bother hurrying across the court. He had no kitten to hide. The little girl would not be there.
Finn had been just about to go down and help Osh split the wood when Osh’s axe fell silent. Then the voice of Finn’s father bellowed up from the edge of the clearing.
“What are you doing out here splitting wood when you have a perfectly good fourteen-year-old hanging around?”
Colban found his twin leaning over the washbasin with his big nose almost butting up against the mirror.
“Hallo there, beautiful!”
Colban sauntered up and smacked his brother on the rump. Malcolm jumped and swore.
On the second day, Saeward combed his beard with great care—albeit omitting Sigefrith’s suggested ribbon—and counted and sorted all his documents before he ever left his room. Moreover, he tidied up his table, paced, patted Littlefoot, and generally fidgeted until he’d heard Ralf go through the court and into the castle.
Irene was fond of all of Hetty’s children, but she had a special affection for Brunhilde. Brunhilde and Irene’s son had been born only weeks apart. They would have been just about the same size, and everything Brunhilde said and did was something Isaakios might have said and done. Even if she did sometimes do and say things that struck one as rather unique.
“That should be he, at long last,” Maud’s uncle grumbled. “If he’s not late, he’s inconveniently early! Never thinking of what others would like!”
“Hmph!” Maud’s uncle took his time blotting his parchment, fussing with pen and penknife, and putting things away. She could see he was not pleased.
Safe, on Saeward’s bed, from the predations of her kittens, Littlefoot sat watching him dress. He did not believe the old wives’ tales of cats sucking the breath of babies, but there was no denying they had a knack for deflating a man’s dignity.
Day was dawning over the Abbey, and once again Sigefrith was up before the monks. He wasn’t smug about it, because unlike the monks he wasn’t obliged to get up and pray twice during the night. It amused him nevertheless.
Egelric didn’t need elf ears to know everyone was talking about his return. He and Ethelwyn had taken the back way to the keep, along cattle paths and across the downs, but even so he’d seen farmers stop their harrows in the fields and shield their eyes against the sun to stare after him. He’d seen a woman shooing her children into her house and closing the door.
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