53
Warlock
April 16, AD 643, near Eoforwic
As luck would have it, the weather turned on the final day of their journey. They awoke in the night to the patter of rain, and by morning it was a full downpour, the skies heavy and grey. Thomas wrapped his cloak around him in resignation as they started off. At least by nightfall, they would be in Eoforwic, and under a roof.
After they had travelled about an hour, the wind gusted up, slapping the rain against them. Missy tossed her head and squealed, and the other horses also expressed their displeasure.
“Mayhap we should stop for the day,” Brorda said, wiping the rain off his face. “’Tis a foul day for travel.”
“We keep going,” Godric said. He grinned suddenly. The worsening of the weather seemed to have had the opposite effect on his moo
