Sigefrith and Wynflaed hear a storm out of season

Wynflaed and her husband were among the few people awake in the valley at that hour on that night. Besides the two of them, there were only the ill and a few new mothers, and Wynflaed was both of those things.

However, she was not awake because of her babies. She had not had enough milk for one little baby, let alone her ravenous, rapidly-​​growing twins. She still nursed them, but only because she loved to. They had another nurse for their hunger, and it was one of her great sorrows to see how the babies went just as eagerly to the nurse’s breast as to their mother’s.

She was awake on this night because she was ill. She had not had such a pain in her side since before the babies had come. She had begun to think that she was healing – that somehow the birth of her children or even simply the happiness they brought her was enough to cure her. But though she would not admit it to Sigefrith, this pain was nearly as bad as it had ever been.

She was doubly sorry, because that evening had been the first that she had spent away from home since the babies’ birth. Alred had been looking for a reason to have a dinner, and the return of Sir Egelric’s daughter had been deemed sufficient excuse, though neither the girl nor her father had been able to come.

This had been the first time Wynflaed had attended a dinner at one of the great castles. Sigefrith had kept her cup full of wine as an antidote to her shyness, and after the first awkward hour, she had enjoyed herself tremendously. Sigefrith’s family and friends were so charming and kind! One would have thought they had forgotten she was only a farmer’s daughter who had got herself into trouble. They all treated her as if she had been born a finer lady even than what her marriage had made her.

Sigefrith thought that her illness tonight was due to the wine, and she didn’t mind letting him think so, especially since it made him laugh and tease. But underneath her own laughter, she was beginning to feel the old despair returning. Indeed, it was worse now, for now she had her husband, and her babies, and so many many many reasons to live!

Sigefrith was distracted from his teasing and she from her despair by a tremendous, booming crash that seemed to come from all around. Wynflaed nearly fell out of his lap in her shock.

“What was that?” she gasped.

“Good Lord! What a thunderclap! Do you suppose I’ve angered anyone by holding my wife too long in my lap inside of a sacred place?” he smiled.

“Thunder in this season?”

“We’ve had storms in October before,” he shrugged.

“On the very last day of October?”

“That’s so! It’s All Hallows Eve, isn’t it?” he laughed. “I suppose one of our local witches must be casting spells rather. That must have been the sound of some poor man’s ears being swapped with the ears of a donkey.”

“I don’t think you should laugh about it,” she said uneasily.

“Oh, Wyn,” he said and squeezed her. “I can either laugh about such things or cry about them, and I prefer to laugh. And if you weren’t so frightened of thunder you would remember that it’s one of the things you love about me.”

“I know,” she smiled.

He kissed her, and she let him for a while, but now her mind was busy worrying about other things.

“Sigefrith,” she interrupted. “Do you think those men really saw those horses and riders and hounds last night?”

This midnight hunt supposedly witnessed by a handful of supposedly sober peasants had been the subject of much worried conversation among the servants all morning, and much jest among the lords and ladies all evening. Thus Wynflaed did not know what to think.

“No, I do not,” he said and tapped her nose with a scolding finger. “Nor do I think we have any witches that know how to swap a man’s ears for donkey ears. Nor do I think that was anything but thunder, so you may stop your worrying now. Unless you want to join Kottr under the bed?”

“Nooo…”

“The elves we do have are mystery enough for one valley, thank you kindly.”

“But what if they were elves that they saw?”

“Now, Wyn – since when do elves ride horses?”

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t you suppose that if they had horses, we would have seen them in their elf pastures somewhere? The elves might live underground, but I don’t see how horses could.”

“That’s true…”

“Of course it is. Listen to your husband, silly girl. I may be stupid, but I’m not silly.”

“You’re not stupid either.”

“Thank you kindly.”

He kissed her again, but after a while she had another troubling thought.

“But there hasn’t been any more thunder.”

He sighed in exasperation. “That one was enough, I think. Weren’t you frightened enough the first time?”

“I think it’s a little odd, that’s all.”

“Certain you don’t want to join Kottr? Though he’s probably come creeping out by now since there hasn’t been any more.”

“I don’t know…”

“You truly are worried, aren’t you?” he asked tenderly. “Do you want me to go see?”

“What if lightning struck the tower?”

“Say, that wouldn’t be funny, would it?” he said. “It was loud enough, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You wait here, Wynsome. I shall go up and see what I can see.”

“Be careful.”

“I shall be careful! And if I see your elf hunters, I shall tell them the stag went up into the hills. And ask them where they keep their horses!”

He was gone long enough that Wynflaed truly began to worry. There had been no more thunder, but she did not think he would have delayed so long if nothing had happened, knowing that she was waiting and would be worrying.

He too looked worried when he returned, though he tried to hide it. “Say, Wyn, I want you to come back to bed. And better get on top of it, because I’m taking Kottr with me.”

“You’re going out?”

“I think I should,” he laughed awkwardly. “It’s funny – I suppose it’s a trick of the moonlight, but it looks like the church is gone.”

“Gone?” she gasped.

“I would wager the bell tower was hit and knocked down, and I can’t recognize the church in the dark without it. But Thorric and I shall ride out and see.”