《Hounds of Ceolburg》 Chapter 1.
¡°Come on, Bluebell, I wanted to be home an hour ago,¡± moaned Dunstan, pulling on the yoke. Bluebell, for her part, seemed unconcerned by his pleas, and maintained a steady pace down the track. ¡°We¡¯re making fine time, we should be home by sundown,¡± his father, Aldrich Wainwright, said from atop the wagon. He picked up a stick and poked at the the two oxen, Bluebell and Rosemary, who plodded along the narrow road ahead of him, refusing to be rushed by the lanky man¡¯s prodding. Dunstan sighed at his father¡¯s pronouncement, but didn¡¯t argue with him. ¡°If you want to go faster, you could try pushing the wagon from behind,¡± Aldrich grinned from underneath his wide-brimmed straw hat. ¡°You¡¯re a strong lad!¡± It was true. Dunstan was tall and broad-shouldered, with arms as thick as most men¡¯s legs. His shaggy blonde hair hung down into his brown eyes, and those who didn¡¯t know him thought he looked imposing, though in reality, his temperament was as gentle as the oxen he was trying to goad into walking faster. Dunstan let the wagon pass him, then grabbed the back. He leaned in and gave a shout, and the wagon did actually begin to go a little faster. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit!¡± laughed Aldrich, though the smile didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. He cast an uncertain glance ahead, where a green hilltop rose above the surrounding trees toward the sun, now low in the sky of an early summer evening. A short time later, the ox-drawn wagon rumbled into a courtyard patrolled by a company of chickens. It was bordered on one side by a low, stone barn, and the others by a whitewashed post and rail fence. A thatched cottage sat behind one of the fences, surrounded by a garden filled with flowers and vegetables. A row of raspberry bushes seemed to be trying to swallow the fence whole. ¡°I¡¯ll put the girls away, you go wash off, or your mother will make you sleep in the barn,¡± Aldrich told his son. Dunstan thanked his father and jogged over to the water pump. He half filled a bucket, removed his shirt, and poured the water over himself. He scrubbed at the sweat and dust, then refilled the bucket and walked to the back door of the cottage, where there was a wooden tub just large enough for a person to sit in. ¡°We¡¯re home!¡± he called, after opening the door. ¡°Could someone bring me a change of clothes?¡± He returned to his task, making a couple of trips to add a few inches of water to the tub. ¡°Welcome home!¡± his mother, Evelyn said, smiling as she stepped out the back door with a linen towel, clean shirt, trousers, and a jar of unpleasant-smelling soap. ¡°I told you that you¡¯d be home before dark!¡± She was shorter than Dunstan, but with the same brown eyes and straw-colored hair. ¡°Did you break anything?¡± Elspeth, his little sister, taunted from inside the house. ¡°No, we got everything unloaded fine,¡± Dunstan sneered back, emptying his latest bucket into the tub. ¡°Thank you for going with your father, I know you were worried you¡¯d be late getting back,¡± Evelyn told him. ¡°It was no trouble,¡± Dunstan replied, walking back to the pump. ¡°Just the same. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, I¡¯ll leave you to it.¡± She smiled and went back inside. When he was clean, Dunstan joined his family at the table. Dinner was a stew of pork and vegetables, with a fresh-baked loaf of bread on the side.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°How was the market?¡± Evelyn asked, as Aldrich dipped his bread in the bowl. ¡°Busy!¡± he replied. ¡°Hal picked a good time to go, I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll get all that furniture sold. There were certainly enough people around, some of them are bound to have the coin and a place to put it.¡± ¡°Did you enjoy yourself, Dunstan?¡± his mother turned to him, her smile bright. ¡°It was alright,¡± he admitted. ¡°There was a cart selling sweet rolls that were really good.¡± ¡°And you didn¡¯t bring us any?!¡± Elspeth exclaimed, outrage on her face. ¡°I tried, but the basket was in the wagon with Da, you know how he gets.¡± Aldrich shrugged, a guilty look on his face, while Dunstan kept his eyes on his bowl, and tried to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth behind a slice of bread. Elspeth was taken in for a moment, as she glanced back and forth at the two men, but they¡¯d played similar tricks too many times for the deception to last. ¡°Where¡¯d you put them?!¡± she demanded. ¡°After dinner,¡± Aldrich said, ¡°we can all have one.¡± ¡°Ma and I should get two! You already had one!¡± ¡°You could have come with, if you¡¯d gotten up before sunrise, yoked Rosemary and Bluebell to the wagon, rode to Hal¡¯s, loaded the wagon full of furniture, walked into Dalkirk, unloaded the wagon, bought everything on Ma¡¯s list, and walked back,¡± Dunstan told her. Elspeth stuck out her tongue at him. ¡°We were busy ourselves, though we did start a little later than you,¡± Evelyn said. ¡°The laundry doesn¡¯t wash itself, and there was plenty of work to do in the garden. Speaking of which, Dunstan, can you help dig up the turnips tomorrow? We should be able to get another harvest in before winter, if we can get those out of the ground and that spot replanted in the next couple of days.¡± ¡°Mrs. Abernathy saw him unloading the wagon and asked him to help her with a tree that blew over by her home. She does alright for someone her age, but that¡¯s too much heavy lifting for her.¡± Aldrich informed her. ¡°I should be able to help with the garden the day after,¡± Dunstan said. ¡°One day won¡¯t make a difference, will it?¡± ¡°That¡¯s perfectly fine, love. We¡¯re proud of you for helping, aren¡¯t we, Aldrich?¡± His father nodded in agreement as Evelyn continued, ¡°It¡¯s not everyone who has children that care about the older people in their village.¡± Dunstan blushed slightly, and went back to his soup. After dinner, they had sweet rolls, then sat next to the hearth as Aldrich told them humorous stories about his father, and Evelyn played a few songs on her guitar. Elspeth sat next to her and watched, she was trying to learn the instrument. Dunstan had given up on it two years earlier, concluding that his fingers had become too thick to easily pick out the notes. He¡¯d always preferred listening to the songs, anyway. Shortly after sunset, they all retired to bed. Dunstan changed into his nightshirt, and stepped over to the small, inward-hinged window that had been opened to let the summer breeze flow through the cottage. Widburh Mound loomed above, and sheep grazed on the grassy slope where the ancient fort had once stood. To Dunstan¡¯s eyes though, there were more than just sheep wandering the hillside. One of them stood on the other side of the fence enclosing the garden, looking at him. ¡°W?s tu h?l,¡± it called. Dunstan scowled, grabbed the shutters, and slammed them shut, followed by the window, and then the curtain, just for good measure. "G?e a wyrd swa hio scel,¡± shrugged the dead man, to no one in particular. He turned and climbed back up the mound, past where the ghosts left behind by a dozen battles roused themselves for another night of strife. He paused before a rider atop the hill, and shook his head. The rider, whose face was hidden behind an elaborate helm of iron and bronze, stared down the hill at the little cottage for a moment, then tugged at the reins of his spectral steed, which spun lazily around and ambled through a gate that had been burned to the ground so long ago that the names of the men who¡¯d done it had all been forgotten. In the cottage below, Dunstan climbed into bed, yanked the blanket over his head, and wished again, like he had every night for as long as he could remember, that he didn¡¯t see them. Chapter 2.
The day was still new when Dunstan and Elspeth left their house for Mrs. Abernathy¡¯s. After the previous evening, Elspeth refused to let Dunstan go somewhere he might find baked goods without her. It wasn¡¯t a bad day for a walk, but the weather felt unsettled. The wind seemed to whisper rumors between the leaves of the elm trees, while the sun ducked behind restless clouds. They passed the millpond, with the water wheel turning steadily. They could hear the machinery laboring, turning the stone. ¡°What do you suppose Old Karl is doing today?¡± Elspeth asked. ¡°It¡¯s too early for this year¡¯s oats.¡± ¡°Probably keeping himself busy milling dried beans from last year,¡± Dunstan grumbled. ¡°Ma will probably send me down to buy flour this week.¡± The Wainwrights had eaten their share of beanbread; bean flour was cheaper than wheat flour, and not everyone was willing to hire Aldrich to move goods for them. The two kept walking. As they neared the town, they paused on a hilltop to squint into the distance, where they could see a crew laying iron rails on a roadbed that had been recently constructed parallel to the river. ¡°They say when the line is finished, you¡¯ll be able to ride from Dalkirk to Ceolburg in a day,¡± Dunstan told Elspeth, breaking the silence himself for the first time that morning. ¡°Could not,¡± she insisted. ¡°Could so, Da was talking about it with the marketwarden yesterday! He said it¡¯s five days, Ceolburg to Paris,and only that long because the rail lines aren¡¯t all connected! When you can ride the train the whole way, he figures it¡¯ll only be two!¡± ¡°What does it matter?¡± she asked him. ¡°You don¡¯t know anyone in Ceolburg.¡± ¡°No one knows me, in Ceolburg.¡± Elspeth made a face at his reply. ¡°There will still be ghosts there,¡± she argued, ¡°probably even more than there are here!¡± ¡°They won¡¯t know me, either. There wouldn¡¯t be any reason for them to bother me.¡± He rubbed his face with his hands. Elspeth¡¯s brows knitted as she looked at him. ¡°You look awful,¡± she said. ¡°I didn¡¯t get a lot of sleep,¡± he answered. His eyes were bleary, with dark bags underneath. ¡°Were they noisy last night?¡± Dunstan nodded. ¡°A few of them started a fight, and then the rest of them got drawn in, until they were all running around shouting and swinging weapons at each other, but they¡¯re all dead already, so nobody ever wins. They just end up swarming around the hill until dawn, like ants when you step on an anthill, making a din and carrying on until they vanish in the sunlight.¡± Dunstan didn¡¯t like to talk about what he saw, not since he¡¯d been a young child, but the lack of sleep had gotten to him that day. ¡°They¡¯re getting worse.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°What do you mean? They¡¯ve done worse than that before, haven¡¯t they?¡± Dunstan thought for a moment. ¡°The worst single thing they¡¯ve done is when one came in through the door while Da was checking on the oxen. That was the night that things kept getting knocked over, and I ran away.¡± Elspeth remembered that night, she¡¯d been seven years old, and Dunstan twelve. Their father had heard the oxen making noise and gone to check on them, then the cups on the table had all fallen on the floor. His eyes wide with terror, Dunstan had crouched in the corner, while chairs tipped over, shoes flew across the room, and anything on a shelf plummeted to the floor. Aldrich had come running back when he heard the screaming, but was unable to see the source of the disturbance, much less do anything about it. Dunstan had finally fled into the night, with Aldrich chasing after him, while Evelyn and Elspeth hid in the barn. The boy had hidden in the woods for two days before he finally came back. They¡¯d been cautious about opening the door after dark since then, and there had been no repeat incidents thus far. ¡°What I mean,¡± Dunstan continued, ¡°is that they¡¯re all agitated these days, not just one or two who¡¯ve always been irritable. The King of the Hill comes down from the fort more often, and the others all notice when he¡¯s around.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the one on the horse, with the helmet that covers his face?¡± Elspeth asked. Her brother nodded. They didn¡¯t know the real name of the apparition, and Dunstan was in no hurry to ask. ¡°What is it that¡¯s riling them up?¡± ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± Dunstan sighed. ¡°They know I can see them, and hear what they say. I¡¯ve been too close for too long. They don¡¯t pay attention to most people, they only bother if they notice you noticing them, and they seem to forget easily. I¡¯m there every day though, and they know now. They¡¯re watching me.¡± ¡°What do they want?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± the young man shook his head. ¡°They can¡¯t...¡± Elspeth wasn¡¯t sure how to phrase it, ¡°hurt you, directly? Can they?¡± ¡°Maybe? Not normally, but some nights they feel different, like they could if they really wanted to.¡± ¡°Did that one in the house try?¡± ¡°No, I think he was trying to rob us. They get confused sometimes and forget that they¡¯re dead, so they go back to what they were doing before they died. I guess he was sacking villages, and it ended poorly for him,¡± Dunstan replied glumly. ¡°But they can¡¯t just walk through the walls, or creep in the windows, or anything like that?¡± Elspeth frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t like the idea of invisible strangers in our house.¡± ¡°That one came in through the door, when Da went out to check on the oxen. Some places they¡¯re already inside, though. I think the ones at home haunt where the fort was, and the battlefield around it, so they can¡¯t just come into our house. It¡¯s different if they¡¯re actually haunting a house, then it seems like they can come and go through the place at will.¡± ¡°What do you do then?¡± ¡°I pretend to be like everybody else, like I can¡¯t see them. That usually works, if they¡¯re not paying attention,¡± Dunstan kicked a stone on the track, it bounced and rolled ahead of them for a few paces before disappearing into a hedge. ¡°Keeps whoever lives there now from kicking me out, too.¡± There had been a couple of social visits when he was a child that had ended awkwardly. The two walked quietly for a moment, each caught up in their own thoughts. ¡°I think you¡¯re brave, you know?¡± Elspeth finally said, her eyes downcast. ¡°For dealing with all of that, I mean. And the other things too; other people not believing you, the ones that tease you.¡± Dunstan blinked. ¡°I don¡¯t feel brave. I mean, I didn¡¯t choose this, I wouldn¡¯t choose it! I just...¡± He searched for the words for a moment, before giving up and letting an exasperated sigh. ¡°Thanks, El.¡± ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± The rest of the journey passed in comfortable silence. Chapter 3. The Abernathy house lay on the edge of Dalkirk, next to the road out of town, behind a stone wall that was just tall enough to keep the neighbor¡¯s sheep out. It was an old house, so much so that the maples planted to shade it were dying of old age. One had already succumbed, its branches remaining bare when spring coaxed its fellows to sprout new buds that year. A storm had blown out of the west two weeks back, and when it passed, it left the dead maple lying across the Widow Abernathy¡¯s garden, the wall, and into the road. Passersby had managed well enough, but the elderly woman had been forced to make due with the debris, until she spotted the solution to her problem unloading a wagon in the market the previous day.
Dunstan and Elspeth joined Mrs. Abernathy for a cup of tea and pleasantries, before Dunstan asked where he could find an ax and a whetstone. He set to work sharpening the ax, while El helped their host with a few things around the house that had just needed another pair of hands. When he was satisfied with the edge on the borrowed implement, Dunstan stepped outside and began breaking down the fallen maple into manageable pieces. It wasn¡¯t difficult work, and Dunstan was happy to have something to take his mind off things. He¡¯d finished chopping the truck and limbs into a size he could move, and was carrying them to a pile near the house when he heard someone call. ¡°You there, boy! Come over here! I have some more work¡ª¡± the woman¡¯s voice cut off abruptly when he turned around. She was standing on the road, next to the spot where the falling tree had smashed a hole in the stone wall. She was roughly his parents¡¯ age, wearing a yellow bonnet on her head and a green dress. Her face was pinched into a grimace. ¡°Can I help you?¡± he asked, his heart sinking. He¡¯d recognize Adelia Shrike anywhere. ¡°Certainly not,¡± she snipped. ¡°Where is Mrs. Abernathy? You¡¯d better not have done anything to her!¡± ¡°I think she¡¯s inside,¡± Dunstan gestured toward the door. ¡°I¡¯m not turning my back on the likes of you!¡± she crowed. Dunstan frowned. ¡°Would you like me to fetch her?¡± he asked, feeling the heat rising in his face. ¡°Don¡¯t you go anywhere, and don¡¯t come any closer, either! We¡¯ll just see if you¡¯re telling the truth when she gets here!¡± she insisted. ¡°Helene! HELENE! Come out here!¡± A moment passed while Mrs. Shrike continued to shout, before Dunstan was rescued by Mrs. Abernathy opening her door. ¡°What is all the commotion out here?¡± she demanded. ¡°I caught this wicked Wainwright boy stealing your firewood,¡± boasted Mrs. Shrike, with a look of utter triumph upon her face. ¡°And I¡¯ve no doubt he¡¯s the one who vandalized this wall,¡± she added, gesturing at the hole left by the dead maple tree. Mrs. Abernathy stared at her for a moment. ¡°Well?! Aren¡¯t you going to thank me?¡± The silence of her favor¡¯s recipient seemed to cause Mrs. Shrike even further affront. ¡°I can¡¯t decide if you¡¯re deranged or just drunk,¡± Helene Abernathy remarked, as she crossed her arms and glared at the appalled Adelia Shrike. ¡°What did you say?!¡± she shrieked, the volume and pitch of her voice ascending rapidly. ¡°You heard me plain enough. I¡¯ve been looking for someone to deal with that tree since spring, and no one could be bothered, much too much to do! Then, exactly as I said would happen, a storm came along and pushed it over, and still, no one has time to help an old woman.¡± She pointed her finger at Mrs. Shrike. ¡°You walk past this house every day, and never saw fit to stop by and ask after my welfare, when I could have been killed by that falling on me!¡± she waved a hand at the deadfall. ¡°Now I find you out here harassing poor Dunstan, when you refused to send your husband or son to deal with that tree, not even when you had to walk around it to attend to your errands!¡± ¡°They¡¯re much too busy! Besides, I never dreamed you¡¯d hire that Wainwright devil to pick it up! Why, the best that could be said about him is that he¡¯s insane, and the alternative is that he practices witchcraft! In either case, he ought to be locked up! I can¡¯t believe you¡¯d disrespect your neighbors by bringing him here!¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t hire him to do anything, I asked him to help, and he was happy to do so! He¡¯s a nice young man whose parents raised him right!¡± Mrs. Abernathy put her hands on her hips. ¡°I suppose your poor son never stood a chance, that¡¯s why he¡¯s always too busy putting his sweaty palms where they aren¡¯t wanted to do any honest work!¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Those girls are all liars! My Caleb is an upstanding young man who goes to Mass every Sunday!¡± Mrs Shrike retorted. Dunstan tilted his head in confusion. ¡°I go to Mass every Sunday,¡± he pointed out, though he decided not to mention that he saw Caleb Shrike there only occasionally. ¡°DON¡¯T TALK BACK TO ME!¡± howled Mrs. Shrike at Dunstan, who took a step back in alarm. She paused to inhale, no doubt getting ready to launch into another tirade, when something struck the side of her head. She reached a hand up and touched her shoulder, which was now covered in the slimy remnants of a broken egg. Her face was a mask of incomprehension and shock. ¡°That¡¯s right, and I¡¯ve got plenty more where that came from!¡± Mrs. Abernathy informed her with a vicious smirk. ¡°Now, I think it¡¯s time you stop making a nuisance of yourself and take your leave. We¡¯ve all had quite enough of your nonsense for one day!¡± Adelia Shrike looked around, then turned on her heel and stomped off. Dunstan had just let himself exhale in relief, when she paused to let out a scream of nearly inhuman fury. A few windows opened in nearby houses, and a couple of concerned neighbors began walking up the road toward them. ¡°Dunstan, dear,¡± Mrs. Abernathy said, ¡°why don¡¯t you come inside and wash up, then we¡¯ll have some apple pie? I¡¯ll explain about Mrs. Shrike¡¯s little tantrum to the neighbors, don¡¯t worry yourself about it.¡± Dunstan was happy to do as she asked, and did his best to ignore the nervous fluttering sensation in his stomach as he walked into the house. His hands shook as he washed them in the basin, he got water all over the countertop when he tried to splash a bit on his face. ¡°Are you alright?¡± Elspeth asked. ¡°I ran for Mrs. Abernathy as soon as I noticed Adelia Shrike talking to you, I¡¯m so sorry Dunstan!¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine, El,¡± he muttered, drying his hands by wiping them on the knees of his trousers. ¡°What were you doing that you had to run for her?¡± ¡°I was gathering eggs while she put the pies together, that¡¯s where it came from! She grabbed one and stuffed it in her apron, then marched over to the door!¡± Elspeth laughed. ¡°I¡¯ve wanted to do that for years! Mrs. Shrike is always so awful!¡± They heard voices outside, Mrs. Abernathy and a few others. Someone raised theirs angrily, but the widow matched them for tone and volume, and they didn¡¯t try again. She said something else, and there were a couple of laughs. ¡°I¡¯ll bet she just told them about the egg. She¡¯ll be the hero of the whole village before long, Adelia Shrike is terrible to everyone!¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Dunstan said, leaning against the counter while he hung his head. ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± ¡°Adelia Shrike is awful, but that doesn¡¯t mean people like having me around. I see them whisper when I walk by. Some of them don¡¯t even bother to lower their voices, they just call me a freak, and if I overhear, so much the better, at least then I know my place!¡± He wiped his red-rimmed eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and blinked furiously. ¡°Got dirt in my eye...¡± Elspeth took a step towards him, but he waved her off. ¡°I just need a moment, alright? I¡¯ll be fine.¡± Elspeth nodded, then walked over to the table and sat down. Dunstan breathed deeply to calm himself, joining her a moment later. Mrs. Abernathy opened the door, bid farewell to someone over her shoulder, and came inside. ¡°What a bunch of useless louts,¡± she groused as soon as the door was closed. ¡°No time to help with that dead tree all season, but Adelia Shrike starts some mischief, and they all have to come over and gossip about it. Men are gossips, my dear Elspeth, don¡¯t let anyone tell you differently!¡± She grabbed a knitted potholder and marched over to the oven. ¡°Except our sweet Dunstan, of course, he knows better.¡± She set the steaming apple pie on the table in front of them. ¡°While that cools, we¡¯ll brew some tea to wash it down with.¡± ¡°Now don¡¯t you waste any time thinking about Adelia Shrike,¡± she said to Dunstan a few minutes later, watching him over the rim of her teacup. His felt his face redden and kept his eyes on his pie. ¡°That one likes to cause trouble, it¡¯s no reflection on you what she does. Sometimes our lives don¡¯t turn out the way we¡¯d like, probably more often than not. It¡¯s natural enough to have strong feelings about that, but it isn¡¯t right to make those feelings everyone else¡¯s problem. Do you hear what I¡¯m telling you, young man?¡± Dunstan looked up and met the sharp look in her eyes. He nodded in acknowledgment. ¡°Good. See that you learn from Adelia¡¯s example, and don¡¯t repeat her mistakes.¡± When they were done, Mrs. Abernathy pressed a couple of coins into Dunstan¡¯s hand despite his protests, then sent them home with the rest of the pie, and a jar of the dried apples she¡¯d used to make it. There weren¡¯t many people on the road, and none of them gave the brother and sister anything other than a polite greeting. Dunstan was relieved; the last thing he wanted was more trouble, because he was certain that Adelia Shrike wasn¡¯t finished with him yet. Chapter 4.
To his chagrin, Dunstan was right. The number of hostile looks he received when they attended Mass that Sunday was far greater than he¡¯d become accustomed to. The Wainwrights usually sat in the back of the church anyway, and Aldrich made sure they were never late, but dozens of people turned around around when they walked in and fixed them with a variety of sneers, scowls, and stares. Dunstan felt his heart leap into his throat, but he tried to put on a friendly face all the same. ¡°Good morning,¡± Evelyn smiled, ¡°God bless!¡± Most turned back toward the altar, but there was a chorus of muttering. Elspeth met a few persistent glares with one of her own. ¡°Maybe I should just go,¡± whispered Dunstan. ¡°Take your seat,¡± Aldrich told him, his voice firm. Father Smythe chose that moment to appear at the door in his vestments, giving a nod to the choir, who launched into the opening hymn before things could escalate further. The priest was a portly man, with a droopy walrus mustache and a commanding presence. He kept a careful eye on his flock, and brooked no distractions once the Mass began. The Homily leaned heavily into the Gospel of Matthew, with Father Smythe¡¯s booming voice demanding to know how the parishioners could cast the mote from the eye of their brother when they had a beam in their own, and admonishing that they would know false prophets by their fruits, for an evil tree could not bear good fruit, and likewise that a good tree would not bear evil fruit. A few heads bowed in contrition, and Dunstan exhaled slowly, the tension easing in his chest. His father patted him on the back, while his mother took his hand and gave it a squeeze. He let himself focus on the familiar prayers and hymns, there was nothing else he could do at the moment. As the closing hymn rang out, Father Smythe strode confidently down the aisle and leaned toward the family. ¡°I¡¯d like a word before you all go,¡± he said. Aldrich nodded to him, and they waited as the rest of the community filtered out. No one said anything, though Adelia Shrike sneered. Her son was nowhere to be seen. Father Smythe joined them a short time later, his vestments exchanged for a cassock. Everyone else had gone. ¡°It¡¯s been brought to my attention that there¡¯s been a bit of drama,¡± he began. ¡°Dunstan didn¡¯t do anything! Mrs. Shrike has been making up vicious lies!¡± Elspeth leaped to her brother¡¯s defense, but the priest held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. Her mother put a hand on her shoulder and shushed her. ¡°I¡¯m well aware of that,¡± Father Smythe said, ¡°I went and spoke to Mrs. Abernathy yesterday when I started hearing rumors. She had only good things to say about Dunstan here, and I¡¯ve never seen anything that would cause me to have a negative opinion of him.¡± Dunstan nodded gratefully, and he saw the tension ease a bit in his father¡¯s shoulders. ¡°You don¡¯t think that I do witchcraft?¡± Dunstan asked. The priest snorted. ¡°I remember your parents asking me to come by when you were just a young boy who was frightened of men no one else could see. I suppose you¡¯re old enough for it now, but I don¡¯t know how a child barely old enough to speak would carry out some sort of magical ritual, much less learn one in the first place. And to what end? To curse his enemies? You didn¡¯t have any at the time, and the ones you have now seem to be doing fine.¡± He stroked his mustache. ¡°If anything, I¡¯m more worried for the souls of grown men and women who appoint themselves enemies of a boy of seventeen.¡± He sighed. ¡°I suppose sorting that out is my business though, not yours. I just wanted to let you know that if you¡¯d prefer to keep to yourself, or limit the people you come into contact with for a while, I do visit a number of people throughout the valley during the week, both for spiritual and social purposes. It would be no trouble to another stop to my list.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°What are you saying? Are you asking us not to come to Mass?¡± Aldrich frowned at him. ¡°Nothing of the sort!¡± Father Smythe said quickly, ¡°I just wanted you to know you had the option, if that¡¯s what you¡¯d prefer. This is a house of God, and you¡¯re always welcome here!¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that,¡± Aldrich replied, his arms crossed over his chest. ¡°Was there anything else?¡± ¡°Now Aldrich¡ª¡± the priest began, but Aldrich cut him off. ¡°Then we¡¯ll be on our way. God Bless!¡± Aldrich stomped out, dragging his son with him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Father, this had been difficult for him,¡± Evelyn said. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to him.¡± ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Father Smythe waved her off, ¡°I¡¯ll talk to him myself. Take care of yourselves.¡± The mother and daughter hurried after father and son. Dunstan mucked out the chicken coop and tried to pretend he couldn¡¯t hear his parents arguing. They seldom fought, but when they did, it was usually over him. It wasn¡¯t that they were angry with him, or that they resented him, but they didn¡¯t always agree on how to handle the way other people treated him. He¡¯d offered to lie, when he was old enough to understand why other people treated him differently. He¡¯d have told the people of the village that he¡¯d made it all up, or that he¡¯d been ill and hallucinated, whatever story his parents preferred. They wouldn¡¯t have it. Despite their other disagreements, both Evelyn and Aldrich had insisted he tell the truth. ¡°I¡¯m not ashamed that my son sees ghosts,¡± Aldrich had told him, ¡°but I would be ashamed if he lied to folk about it.¡± ¡°The most important thing is to be a good person,¡± Evelyn had said when he talked to her about it. ¡°We can figure out the rest.¡± The memory made him smile, in spite of himself. ¡°Are you crying?¡± Elspeth asked, catching him by surprise as she stepped around the corner of the barn. ¡°No!¡± Dunstan insisted. ¡°Are you sure?¡± Dunstan held out the shovel. ¡°We¡¯ll see what you look like after getting the chicken crap out of the corners.¡± ¡°Iwas crying, so you¡¯ll just have to finish it yourself,¡± she told him. Her eyes were red. Dunstan took a step toward her, but she pointed a finger at him sternly. ¡°Absolutely not!¡± ¡°See if I try to hug you again!¡± he replied. ¡°You have chicken crap all over you!¡± ¡°Ma says it helps the plants grow,¡± he told her, ¡°maybe it would do you some good.¡± She grinned, despite herself. He scooped the straw and manure into the wheelbarrow, then pushed it over to a compost pile behind the barn, with Elspeth following him. ¡°You don¡¯t hate us, do you?¡± she asked. ¡°What?! No!¡± He looked at her in confusion. ¡°Why would you ask that?¡± ¡°Because we don¡¯t see them! You have to live with this all the time, and we don¡¯t, so I thought you might get angry at us.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like seeing them, but I don¡¯t hate you because you can¡¯t. Hell, I don¡¯t even hatethem, not really. It doesn¡¯t seem to be anybody¡¯s fault, it¡¯s just the way things are.¡± He emptied the wheelbarrow and turned the compost with the shovel. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go make sure they don¡¯t spend all evening arguing and forget to make us dinner,¡± Dunstan said. ¡°You can¡¯t just tell them they¡¯re done arguing for today,¡± Elspeth said. ¡°They¡¯re our parents!¡± ¡°I can so, there¡¯s plenty of things that need done around here, and arguing isn¡¯t one of them. Being parents doesn¡¯t mean they don¡¯t have chores, same as us.¡± He pushed the wheelbarrow back over next to the barn, where it belonged. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m what they¡¯re arguing over, and I say they¡¯ve argued enough.¡± They went inside, and Elspeth giggled while Dunstan scolded the two.