Yssobel, Steven and Hurthig rode back the next day to find Egwearda on her knees in the snow, face pressed hard into the ground, as if grieving, as if to freeze her tears. ‘What’s happened here?’ Yssobel whispered. ‘I don’t know. But it’s not good.’ Jack was elsewhere, but Yssobel was certain that her brother had also heard the summoning of the drums and was finding his way home. She dismounted, took the horses and led them to the stables. Steven went to the Saxon woman. He put his arms around her, to raise her up. He imagined she was in pain. ‘Egwearda ...’ The woman didn’t move. She was cold and hard, like rock. He sighed, then lifted her from the snow and carried her to the villa. Yssobel came running, shedding her cloak, a quick glance telling her father that she had understood the situation. ‘Find your mother,’ Steven said. Yssobel went to Guiwenneth’s room and it was there that she found Ealdwulf. He was lying on the bed, quiet, cold. Now she understood the reason for Egwearda’s grieving death.
