Annabel only managed to take a short nap before she was needed in the kitchen. When she stepped out into the manor courtyard, it seemed the entire village was milling there, staring at the smoking ashes and blackened walls of the barn. A sad sight indeed, weighing her down with a feeling of dread. The tragedy of the fire had ignited emotions, and angry grumblings emerged from the throat of more than one villager. Annabel could understand why. They’d all helped with the harvest, even Annabel’s family for once, and every family was to get a share of the harvest. Now all their hard work would yield them nothing.
Stephen broke away from the crowd and came toward Annabel. He said quietly, so no one else could hear, “Bailiff Tom is saying that this is the work of a curse, that someone has brought a scourge to our village.”
Stephen’s words made the back of her neck prickle. There had been ugly talk when Annabel was a small child about a curse on Glynval, started when frost killed all their spring crops and their grain harvest was ruined by drought. Some had pointed fingers at Stephen, who was barely six years old. Because of his twisted body and the odd way he walked, some people were afraid of him, afraid he was cursed. Even though she had been young, she remembered her terror for her friend.
Annabel felt ill. “I hope nobody is listening to him.”
“I hope not, either.” Stephen brushed his blond hair out of his eyes.
“Who does he say brought the curse?” she whispered. “He isn’t saying it outright, but I believe he means Lord le Wyse.”
Annabel felt her mouth go dry. “That’s terrible.”
“I know.” Stephen stared thoughtfully across the yard of the manor house, his face deceptively calm and peaceful.
“Perhaps I should tell Lord le Wyse, warn him.”
“I don’t think you should get involved.” Stephen’s expression changed to concern as he looked at her. “Lord le Wyse can take care of himself. He’s wealthy and powerful, and the people he brought with him from Lincoln are very loyal to him. No, you shouldn’t say anything. He might blame the messenger.”
Perhaps Stephen was right. Lord le Wyse was rather unpredictable. Who knew how he might react to the news?
With a final nod, Stephen walked away to begin his day’s work, while Annabel went to help Mistress Eustacia with the morning meal.
As the manor staff and castle builders sat down in the upper hall, a little later than usual, to break their fast, impassioned discussions arose over the cause of the fire. As she listened to the various theories, Annabel hated to think that someone in the demesne, including the workers gathered at this table, would have set the fire deliberately. Surely it had been an accident, as some men suggested. Annabel heard Beatrice spout, “But whether accident or no, whoever did this should be banished from Glynval. We’ll have to survive on thin pea gruel this winter, if we survive at all, thanks to the scoundrel who started that fire.”
Their situation was dire. Most lords would simply let them starve, but Annabel didn’t believe Lord le Wyse would allow that. She hoped he would find a way to get more grain.
If only they could have the kind of faith she had read about in the Bible. Of course they should leave their doubts behind and trust God, but ever since the Great Pestilence had killed a third of the people of Glynval, the ones who were left seemed determined to blame God. She’d heard them speak of it many times. They believed God was a cold, unfeeling Sovereign who inflicted suffering on people arbitrarily. Their distrust and hopelessness did not bode well for her village.
Annabel looked over the morning’s kitchen duties, hers to tend until Mistress Eustacia returned from settling an argument between two servant girls. From the chastisement coming from outside the door, Annabel realized she could be alone for some time.
Suppressing a sigh, she stirred the frumenty with a wooden paddle then swung the pot back over the fire so it would continue to cook. There, the worst is done. Now for the sweeping. She lifted her arm to wipe the sweat that had beaded above her lip and saw that Lord le Wyse stood just inside the door. Her heart fluttered, she supposed from seeing him so unexpectedly.
“Mistress Eustacia sent me to have my bandage changed.” He looked disgruntled.
She adjusted the pot so that it wasn’t directly over the fire then wiped her hands on her apron.
He sat down impatiently on the bench against the wall.