46
Godic Is Here
Sometime later they returned to Celyn’s house. Thomas had lost track of time, the day grinding on in one long blur. He stepped into the warmth of the dwelling, clutching Matthew’s cloak, given to him by Father Colm. It was all Matthew had with him, besides the clothes he wore and his small knife, of course. There had been no axe or other weapon.
Nona looked up from where she tended a simmering pot, her eyes meeting his, sympathy filling them. “Thomas. Come, sit down.”
He sat at the table, feeling curiously empty of all thought, all emotion. He welcomed the emptiness, welcomed the relief from the searing pain that had torn through him at the church. To mourn a father once was bad enough. Twice was almost more than he could bear.
But I have to bear it, don’t I? It’s not
