Egelric goes to see

It was true. Elfleda’s grave just outside the church wall was empty now.

Egelric clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to calm his rage. There was no reason for this, other than to hurt him. It would not have surprised him at all on the part of Druze, but the King had assured him that Druze could not have escaped.

If not Druze, then there was someone else who hated him so.

“It was somebody strong,” he said to the King, trying to keep his voice steady. “That’s a lot of earth to move in a night, and it hadn’t been disturbed in – disturbed in three years,” he finished, his voice breaking.

And the flowers he had planted for her! They had been dug up and tossed aside. And she? What had they done with her?

“Come away,” the King said, laying an arm across his shaking shoulders.

“Why?” he cried.

“I don’t know, Egelric. But we shall find her and bring her home again.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Come home with me a while. You can sit in my study and no one will disturb you. I shall send the man down to fill it up for now.”

“Her flowers…”

“We shall plant new flowers when we bring her back.”

Egelric didn’t understand. But he didn’t know what to do, either, and so he allowed the King to lead him away.