Chapter Ten
The morning brought a damp chill to the mountain air.
At the appointed time, Sarah picked up the springy stick she had cut from the apple tree. It was three feet long and as big around as her thumb. She left her husband’s empty house for the last time and made her way down to the commons.
When she turned the corner into the square, she saw a hundred and fifty women, mothers and daughters, gathered, standing in rows. And the dozen menfolk who made up the Tribunal were seated in front. A two-wheeled cart had been moved into position and she saw the blacksmith’s apprentices, one standing either side, awaiting her. They were big burly lads, eighteen or nineteen years old and grinning at the sight of her.
She saw the litter, leaning against the wall and her stomach lurched at th
