Father Brandt meets the peasants

Father Brandt walked sadly back to the church after visiting a young mother whose firstborn had just died. It seemed as if nearly every family had lost a child that winter, and to make matters worse, both the people and the animals were beginning to run low on food. The harvest had been meager, and the fire at Nothelm had destroyed a good quantity of hay and corn. He could see that parents were beginning to starve themselves in order to feed their children. God help them if the children should begin to starve as well.

As he arrived in the market square, he found a few dozen men gathered, carrying torches and grumbling ominously.

“What is this, young man?” he asked one of the louder ones. “A snow market?”

“We’re just talking,” the man said sullenly.

“Why don’t we all go talk someplace where it is warmer?” he suggested gently. “This is no night for gathering outdoors.”

“In fact we were thinking of going to talk at Egelric Wodehead’s house,” another man snarled.

“We would like to ask him about a few things,” said another.

“We want to know why his elf baby is the only baby who didn’t get sick!”

“He’s cursed!” shouted one of the Nothelm grooms.

“There is no curse!” Brandt thundered. The men fell silent. “Do you fear a curse more than you trust in your Lord? Go back to your homes – you shall do no evil tonight.”

The crowd drew back from him, muttering. Some of the men hung their heads and seemed to be ashamed. But the first man he had spoken to was eyeing him warily. Brandt could see that he was only waiting for him to leave before stirring up the others again.

Brandt scowled at him and then set off swiftly for the castle. He had to see the king.