19
Memento Mori
Peter’s head ached when he woke up. His throat hurt as if he had been screaming for hours. Lioba was out there somewhere in a crowd of desperate people.
Then he sat up, glancing around the attic room. It was just a dream. His life was right here, and today was Shrovetide Tuesday.
It was a day of feasting and celebration before the start of Lent, and most townspeople came out to see the Shrovetide play on the town square. Peter always looked forward to it, and now that he had passed the exam, it should be a wonderful day. But he was torn inside. It was as if part of him was still in that crowd on the road to Stolp, worrying about Lioba.
He pulled on his clothes and made his way downstairs.
“Would you like to join the mistress and me when we leave for the play?” Master
