Thirty-six

Selden was grateful that one of the villagers came to him and told him, “Pater, I’ll see this.”

“What will you do?”

“Keep him away from flame. Can you smell the drink on him?”

“It was the end of him.”

“All the same.”

Perhaps Selden misunderstood, but he didn’t want to argue about the First Nation people.

“What should we do with the sword, do you think?” Selden asked.

“The lordling will want it. May have need of it, too.”

“Will you... Will you draw it out, please?”

The man pulled and, smiling, told the priest, “Just like Arthur.”

Selden didn’t know what to say. He wouldn’t admit that he had thought the same. Instead, he took the sword and thanked the man, who grabbed the dead man by the ankles and was set to drag him away.

“Here now, let me help lift him,” Selden told him, but the man would have nothing of it.

“Check on the boy, Pater. I’ll not go far." As he dragged the body, he assured the priest, "He won’t feel a thing.”