“This one bucket shall be good enough for milking this morning,” she said to herself.
She turned to leave when the candlelight fell upon the place where Étienne held “court.” A pallet lay in the opposite corner next to a simple wooden chair. There was a table here with several sprigs of holly and small branches of evergreen. This was where Étienne normally slept, but in recent years father had given him leave to sleep in the manor house when it was too cold. There was no hearth here, nor was there a brazier. Father would not allow it. He said that he had seen too many barns go up in flames because fools put fire where it had fodder aplenty.
As Murielle turned with her candle, the light fell upon the altar. Murielle could never recall having seen this particular altar before, so it must h
