[Folwren]

“You do not make too bold, Lithor,” Saeryn said. “I understand you, but I can not go tonight. I will follow to Edoras, once the business of tomorrow is finished. More good will be done if I wait to go until after the meeting here, because then I will be able to speak in more detail with the king. I thank you for your concern, and I am glad that you speak so freely with me. I hope it will not change. I hope nothing will change.”

Lithor bowed and Saeryn went past him to the wain bearing Eodwine. She climbed in beside him, over the blankets and furs packed about him and knelt once more by him. As she surveyed his face this last time, she held in check the tears that came to her eyes. Lithor and the others standing by looked away. Saeryn reached down and grasped his hand beneath the blankets.

“Wake up,” she whispered. “Please wake up, just to say goodbye.” Her eyes searched his still, pale face, but no answering flicker of consciousness changed his features. She bent her head and kissed his cold lips. Her tears fell on his cheeks.

She raised herself again and then slowly drew a lightly woven veil over his face to help keep out the cold. All was now ready. She moved back down the wagon and Lithor helped her step down.

“Go now,” she said, her voice hard in the attempt to keep from breaking down. “Go with what speed you may.”

Lithor bowed again and went to his horse. Æđel was already seated on the wagon seat, wrapped in a cloak and with the reins in her hands. Wilcred and Balvir mounted their horses. The wagon rumbled over the frozen ground and wound its way up and out of Scarburg. Saeryn stood alone in the courtyard, watching it leave. The inhabitants of the Hall stood in or near the doorway. Huddled by the corner of the hall, hidden in deep shadow, Javan crouched, his hands over his face, weeping tears for which he was not ashamed.