Chapter 27
27 The mute woman’s eyes were blood-red with despair. For days now, fear had robbed her of all sleep, all rest. She twisted the rough wool of her skirt between her thin fingers, and her body remained rigid as she peered past the stiff red skin that served as a door, covering the only opening in the hut’s walls. On the other side of the muddy pool of water beyond the entryway, her brother Allan stood glaring down at the diminutive priest. When her brother had come striding over the hill, William had rushed out to meet him on the path, rather than have him discover Margaret inside. Margaret continued to watch nervously from the hut. The steward’s face was a storm cloud of pent-up fury, and his eyes shot lightning bolts at the little man as he waited for an answer. The priest’s sister, a
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