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Goody sat hunched forward on her chair, staring into the fire. Her eyes drifted down the log, noting how much there was still to burn. She stirred her old bones, sitting up as straight as they’d allow, and looked about the room. Her eyes lit on a familiar face.
‘Birger! Come here, boy,’ she called. ‘Going to be needing more holly for the fire. Got to keep the log here burning. Take your saw out and gather us some, won’t you? A little rowan and yew make for a good blaze, too.’ She eyed the boy, stopping to consider the stories he’d most likely heard from the guests in the Inn. ‘Best you be leaving while there’s plenty of light. Take the dogs with you, why don’t you.’ She raised her voice a little so that those nearby could hear her.
‘Any of you good sirs be willing to lend Birger a hand? Many hands make light work,’ she cackled, trailing off as her gaze drew back to the coals that glowed red and shimmered beneath the log.
‘Carr!’ she called out, hearing his shuffling step somewhere behind her. ‘Who’s gone to fetch the boar for the feast?’ she asked. ‘Be a good night tonight for a fine, fat pig, it would.’ She smacked her lips a little, thinking of the cracklings, dripping with grease. ‘Heard the animals were gathering in the courtyard . . . best the boar be a big one, so’s they can have a bite, eh.’ She rocked a little, back and forth in her chair, humming some tune for a short while, then fell quiet.
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