Chapter 19: Chapter IV.2: Alette Petal-Queen

The next day was to see a great many of the villagers too weary at first to stoke their anger against Cormac. Wearied and distressed by the loss of the only forge in the locality though, by high-noon there were several of them that were about as frantic as they were the night Inga passed. This though, was hardly the first thought that came into Daegan’s mind when she arose for the day. Her only thought was to determine what she should do now. As things stood, she had lost all semblance of wealth or any means to survive as the family forge had gone up in flames. Her father would likely be heartbroken as it would take him some time to rebuild what they had; with all the wealth he was to gain in Sgain likely to all be spent on rebuilding upon his return.

Lost in her own brooding thoughts, her chin against her chest as she stumbled down the stairs her father’s sword in one hand, since she felt it needed to be close at hand at all times. It was strange, because days prior she had wondered why her father had not brought it with him, and had avoided it and the blood-gem. Yet she had the sense that it was in part thanks to it that she had slept so well.

Dressed in the same dress as the previous day, since Cormac had only succeeded in saving her one silk dress (which she decided to leave on the table, in a bundle in Kenna’s room), she arrived just as the door closed with a quit ‘clack’. Stumbling upon Wulfnoth in the midst of cutting some cheese for her, and an onion, she cleared her voice, this surprised him.

“By the great bones of the Paragon Muireall, what are you lass, a cat to sneak up on me so?” The druid demanded sharply, of the still half-asleep lass.

“Apologies, where is Cormac?” She said without the slightest trace of guilt in her voice.

“He left, to go speak with Trygve and Indulf, his friends.”

“I see, he ought to have waited for me,” She complained loudly.

At this remark Wulfnoth gave her a look full of pity before he turned away to pick up her breakfast and place it onto a plate. Insisting that she eat, he would not take a single bite himself until such a time that she had finished at least her hunk of cheese. This she did primly, if somewhat reluctantly given her continued desire to speak with Cormac. A part of her having already opined to leave for Sgain to inform her father of what had taken place yesterday, another part of her had the irrational notion that mayhap this could simply accelerate her hopes to marry Cormac and she could remain in his home forever. This thought was banished as swiftly as it came into her spirit, for she knew it to be a childish hope.

The question of what she could do until the return of Kenna was chief-most place in Wulfnoth’s thoughts, who spoke only after he himself had eaten. Her father’s sword was propped up against the wall next to her, where every few seconds the cleric’s dark eyes hovered over it with a thoughtful expression climbing up onto his face when he did so. The two of them quiet for some time, so that it appeared to her ears that his voice echoed a little in the nigh on empty house. “Daegan, it is far from my place to speak out on such matters, however if you are not entirely daft as Wiglaf or young Cormac can tend to be, I had thought it best if you stayed here until the lady Kenna’s return.”

Startled that he had been thinking much the same as she, “You think so? I had thought you would prefer that I stay in the temple.”

“I am not certain that Conn can be the wisest of men nor am I blind to how deep the vicissitudes between women can run to.” He informed her with a weak grin that made his moustache move similarly to the wings of a thrush. “I know not all the reasons for why Helga and her sister are not over-fond of you, however I have a good idea as to why, after your and Cormac’s comportment the night prior.”

Daegan could feel her face reddening, and she might well have agreed, when a thought came into her mind. “You speak as though you intend to go somewhere far, far away.”

The flash of surprise that flew over his face before he stumbled for words in the next few seconds told her far more, than what he had wished to.

Egged on by her suspicions, the ‘She-Paladin of Glasvhail’ went on to ask him, “Where is it you intend to leave for? Sgain?”

“I- er, well no though I must-” He stuttered uneasily, his ordinarily smooth manner utterly forgotten as he revealed himself to be an easily bewildered man, and something of a poor liar she realized.

Just as she felt certain that he was on the verge of revealing to her the whole of the truth, of what he had intended to do in response to the attack by the phantom-rider, the door burst open. In strode Ida who took in the sight of the quailing druid and the red-haired lass on her feet index finger pointed in his face in a single glance. The first response of the matronly, blonde-haired woman was to speak out against the blacksmith’s daughter. “Now I hope you are not bullying poor old Wulfnoth, Daegan!”

“Of course not,” Daegan scoffed at once, with a warning glance to the old man who sighed in defeat, with a grimace on his face.

“What brings you here, milady?” The druid wondered politely, keen to change the subject.

It was now that Ida took up a very somber appearance, anxiously glancing about the small house with visible worry. A bright, cheery woman with a skill for making friends with almost everyone, whilst at the same time disapproving of nigh on all that they did, she was rarely if ever truly upset. Unflappable by nature, for her to show any kind of hint of nervousness was distressing to say the least, and positively alarmed Corin’s only child. “I- well, I had hoped to see Cormac here, has he simply gone upstairs to his chambers for a moment?”

“No, lass he left to go find his friends Indulf and Trygve, to consult on the matter of what happened yesterday, would you like me to transmit a message to him on your behalf?” Wulfnoth offered genially.

At this the flaxen-haired matron chewed on her lower lip, grey-eyes round with anxiousness as she visibly warred with herself over the importance of what she wished to tell Cormac. At last she asked if distractedly, “Do you know where the lads left for?” Her question was answered in the negative, so that she at last conceded if reluctantly so. “It happens- or it may happen that there are those who live near here-”

“Ida speak sense already, what is it that everyone has in mind?” Daegan interrupted sharply, exasperated by her muddling about.

“Now be careful how you speak to me lass,” Ida warned with equal firmness, only relenting when the younger woman subsided into fuming silence. Pleased by this the stormy-eyed wife of Freygil at last concluded after some prompting from Wulfnoth. “It appears that there are those, who blame Cormac and wish him gone.”

“What? How could they wish him gone? He has done nothing wrong!” Objected Daegan at once, almost trembling with fury at the thought of the injustice being discussed somewhere, in the village. “Tell me where they are meeting, and I shall-”

“You will do what little girl?” Wulfnoth snapped impatiently, “Charge whither they have hidden themselves, to give them a tongue-lashing? To run them through with your father’s untainted sword? And what will all this accomplish, other than to taint the purity of Cosantóir and your own soul?”

The vehemence in his voice made her squirm, so that it was now no longer the smith’s daughter who appeared to loom over the druid but the reverse. Though he did not rise to his feet, and preferred to remain seated where he was, the effect his words had on her were visible to behold. Crumbling inwardly the ‘She-Paladin’ tucked her chin against her chest only to thrust it out in defiance a moment later, as her resolve rebuilt itself. She well-knew that there was little that she could accomplish by violence, in fact the thought had never occurred to her.

“He is right lass,” Ida added laying a sorry-hand upon her shoulder.

“Then what do you recommend that we do? Simply hide, whilst- now that I think on it, who is at this meeting?”

At this question Ida squirmed once more, with Wulfnoth moved by her plight hurrying to her defence, “There is no reason to answer this question, lass.”

“Nay, nay it is a good and worthy question; Freygil is there, Tavish, Drest and also Ualan.” She revealed, among the names she was to list the woman’s own husband, Conn’s good-son, one of the most notable local fishermen and of course, Torquill the tavern-keeper. “Alongside fifteen others, I discovered their meeting quite by accident, when I left to go enjoy a touch of ale after the fright of last-night.”

Blabbering on, she let at last slip if indirectly so knowledge of where to find the conspiracy against Cormac. It had to be, Daegan guessed in Torquill’s tavern, which almost once again made up her mind to go hunt down the men in question to give them a piece of her mind.

She was saved from another quarrel, by the sudden return of Cormac, who opened the door only to gape a little at the sight of Ida there. Dressed in a dark grey tunic of rough wool with hose the same colour and made of the same material covering his legs, he was accompanied by his two favourite friends. Both of whom were dressed in dark tunics, and trousers, though Trygve’s was slightly greener than the black of Indulf all of them wore about their shoulders long traveling cloaks. Their clothes was evidently chosen to aid in the battle against the cold of winter, not that any of the trio appeared at all prepared for the sight of Freygil’s beloved wife of more than twenty-five years. They all froze where they stood, just as she did at the sight of her sons dressed for travel. “Aunt Ida why are you here?”

“I have come to warn you, dear lad!” Ida exclaimed before she promptly closed the door behind him whereupon she told him with great solemnity of how he had been declared a criminal by most of the village.

At first Cormac listened with mute shock, but then his face tore itself up into an expression of utter anguish and misery. Such was the force of his grief at the rejection by his neighbours that he might well have wept, had others not been present therewith him. Proud in his own way, he would never break into tears in front of others, no matter how terrible his pain, how deeply the words and actions of others stabbed through his very soul. At the sight of his sorrow, Daegan wished to do nothing more than to take him up, in her arms and comfort him.

It was her feminine instincts, feelings that she had never been one to repress though some such as Indulf or Trygve might well have been surprised. As contrary to what they might claim, she took pride in her femaleness especially, when it pertained to Cormac. It was just that as a right and proper Caled woman, she had her own pride.

“What will you do?” She inquired worriedly, with a glance to Ida, who appeared to share her apprehension.

“I’faith, I do not know,” He confessed a hint of stunned pain still in his voice, before he ran a hand over his face. “I suppose, it has simply decided the matter for me.”

Bewildered by these words, Daegan and Ida could only gape at him; the latter was the first to ask what lay in both of their minds. “What do you mean by ‘decided the matter’? You cannot be thinking of leaving Glasvhail!”

“Aye, it is precisely what he has in mind,” Wulfnoth affirmed for the hesitant Cormac when he failed to immediately answer properly.

“But why?” This time it was Daegan who asked this question, only to explode a little in a burst of fury, “Are you a complete fool Cormac?”

At this question, pain flashed through his expressive blue eyes before it was replaced by a cold fury, the likes of which she had seen but a handful of times. “Fool? Nay and I cannot believe you could say such a thing to me Dae, especially given how well you know me! It is one thing for mother or the Salmon to utter such a thing, but for you it is unimaginable.”

“But where will you go? You have no great skill for survival without others!” Daegan pointed out sharply, forgetting for a moment that he knew every bit about hunting, trapping, fishing and cooking as she did thanks as much to her father.

“Calm yourselves, the both of you!” Wulfnoth bellowed only to add somewhat more weakly when they both turned furtive, angry gazes upon him, “Please?” This they did only out of respect for the innate sweetness that lay within the druid, who was very keen to move the conversation away from name-calling and needless insults. “Ida has lent us a great service, by giving us this warning, but it changes little; we must still depart soon. The phantom-rider will return, especially now that he suspects us of having some sort of link to whatever it is that he longs for.”

“Wait, the phantom-rider? So it is true?” Ida gasped disbelief in her eyes, her hand coming up to cover her mouth in horror.

“Aye, he is no mere superstition, though I had thought it so until yesterday, as I had no inkling that such things existed.” Wulfnoth confessed his dark-grey brows knitting together in consternation and pensive thought. “If these phantoms from legend and myth, of a bygone age do indeed exist what else exists? There is a great deal more at play here, than any of us are possibly aware of, or so I believe.”

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“Does that not give us even more cause to stand and fight these things?” This time it was Daegan who thundered out this response, as though she were some sort of great warrior-king preparing his legions for war.

“Be careful with what you wish for lass, as war is too often in my experience initiated and far less lightly restrained once the arrow has been released so to speak.” The druid counselled sternly, he was interrupted by Trygve.

“Aye, but do we not have a duty to those who have passed at the hands of this creature of the night, and to those it has threatened to attempt to fight it?”

“What are you on about? I feel as though I have only been told half, of what has transpired and as though you all stand on the cusp, of some great decision.” Ida cried out her eyes going to her sons, who exchanged a sheepish look, neither of them particularly keen to inform her of what they had decided upon.

Cormac and the rest of the lads squirmed helplessly, before he glanced to either of them and with an exchange of nods he hurried over to the kitchen, which was attached to the shop. Wherefore he extricated from a darkened corner, just a few meters from both of the two who had slept in his home in the two other rooms. His eyes slightly darkened by little circles beneath his eyes, he removed from within the jug the small white-locket that had been entrusted to him, by his father.

“This is the Blood-Gem of Aganippe,” He revealed to the two elders in the room, with a voice full of significance. The name meant nothing to Ida who was visibly confused, however Wulfnoth’s breath hitched a little at the mention of the name. He did the symbol of the flower, placing his right hand over his brow only to lower it then over his left-shoulder then lowered it, then over his right-shoulder and lowered his hand very overtly. A sorry expression on his face, Cormac went on at some length. “According to Wiglaf, this is a cursed gemstone that has existed for nigh on two millennia, with the locket that contains the crimson-gem having been lost for a time, before father discovered it.”

“What? What are you talking about? How could Murchadh, have discovered such a thing?” Ida gasped unable to believe her ears.

At this response, the whole of those already in the know about the Blood-Gem, of the ancient Sorcerer-King exchanged a nervous series of glances. Each one of them full of concern and unsure if they should continue to maintain the secret that they had been sworn to by Corin and Wiglaf, only Cormac appeared confident in his decision.

This image was somewhat dispelled when he swallowed audibly a moment later, his gaze though did not tremble as he admitted. “Father was not slain in that storm, but swept away to the misty-isle, it was thereon that he was enslaved before he was seized by some dark figure and stole this gem from that man.”

Though she had already heard this tale before this moment, Daegan could not help but shiver. Her emerald gaze lowered in momentary defeat, her teeth sinking into her lower lip in frustration at her own sense of helplessness.

Ida wrung her hands, “But how do you know all this? Does Kenna know, Cormac?”

“Nay,” He admitted with visible regret, “We did not tell her, because father did not wish her to know. He- he was hardly himself when he passed.”

“Oh how terrible!”

“Wait, your father discovered this gemstone only to perish? Did he say anything about those dark-riders?” Wulfnoth queried flabbergasted while he all but bounced upon the chair he had taken up whilst eating, with the legs of the chair creaking ominously.

None took this warning to heart, so intent were they upon the white-locket and the chain it dangled upon, with Trygve eyeing it anxious, Indulf with heated distrust and Cormac avoided looking directly at it. For her own part, Daegan felt the old revulsion and attraction towards the gemstone warring for dominance inside of her. She might well have liked to turn away completely from it but she could not bring herself to look away from it.

Now that she looked more closely at it, it was truly a marvel to behold. A fine work of art, it shone in the light of the suns and the small fire in the shop’s chimney, it amazed her then how she could ever have felt repulsed by it. A moment later, she noticed the glint of crimson shining through a crack in the white locket, for some reason she felt it best left unsaid. It might only alarm them, she told herself.

“Only that he had to investigate them and the gem,” Cormac said answering the druid’s question, with the old man humming and hawing and rocking back and forth, to his chair’s vibrant displeasure as it creaked even more audibly than before.

“It appears to me that the three of you, have already made up your minds on the matter of this horrid gem.” Wulfnoth grumbled with a frown in the direction of all three lads, at last making mention of the fact that they were all dressed for travel. The three of them exchanged a worried glance, one that did not go unnoticed by the cleric. “Drat it all! I suppose that if I were to expect any of you three to await my return, from say Sgain or Auldchester where there are certainly records of some sort about these riders or this gem, I would but return to find each of you missing!”

The accusation hidden behind his words won him an even more guilty reaction from each of them, as they hung their heads and lowered their gazes to stare at their feet. Only Indulf appeared somewhat petulant, pouting and grinding his teeth as he with his straight long blonde hair and tall figure, appeared all of a sudden the very image of his father and mother all at once. He had his father’s height and muscular build, though and dark-eyes and his mother’s obstinacy.

He said little of what he thought, not that there was any need of it Daegan mused with a great deal of approval. Inga would have without a doubt cheered and boasted, of the manly nature of her fiancé. At once, her own mood soured into one of utter grief and pain, as she thought of her friend’s passing and the hole she had left behind.

“I really shan’t understand the youths of to-day!” Wulfnoth complained plaintively, as he shook his head tugging at his moustache as though he were trying to tear it off. He suddenly reminded the red-haired lass of an over-sized badger with a moustache in a monk’s habit, so ridiculous did he appear to her eyes then. “Do ye think this is some sort of game or trading-trip down the hill or past the Dyrkwoods over into Dyrranthrol to trade some wool or fish?”

“We understand your point brother, yet we are prepared to do what is necessary for those we loved.” Indulf said stoutly, eyes filled with a masculine thunder that no storm could have outmatched so fierce did he gaze upon him. “To you, Murchadh and Inga were liable to be naught but names, yet to us they were kith and kin. Or in my situation, a lover as Inga was far more than kith or kin.”

His voice at last broke, as he choked down a sob that drew a supportive gesture from his mother, who began to stroke his back with a look full of pity in her kindly eyes. It was very clear that if she could have eased her son’s plight or brought back to life, the lass he had loved so passionately, she might well have given over her own life or soul in exchange.

It also did not escape Daegan’s gaze that Cormac appeared rather a little envious of this demonstration of motherly love even as he extended a sympathetic squeeze of his friend’s arm. A gesture that drew a grateful glance from Indulf, who allowed himself a moment to regain his composure as he squeezed his mother’s hand in a gesture he had only ever used for his mother and Inga.

“You three are quite the group, I daresay you have taken the matter out of my hands and then there is the matter of that there conspiracy against you and the fact that this shadow-rider desires the gem.” The cleric groaned rocking back in forth as always, and rubbing his hands together in an anxious gesture. “Very well, if you intend to leave after this rider, I shall accompany you in the pursuit of him. The road ahead shall be so treacherous, so vile that I have no doubt that we will likely require more than one luncheon packed for the road.”

“We are not afraid and have rarely spoken since last night of aught else but the journey ahead,” Cormac revealed with the same resolution that his friend had demonstrated a moment before.

“There is a good and manly speech, let us hope you can keep up that strong spirit,” Wulfnoth said earnestly, his chair let slip a miserable sigh beneath him.

“Wait, you two intend to accompany Cormac?” Ida asked distressed, as the realisation of what her sons planned to do suddenly struck, her between the eyes.

For a moment Daegan feared she might swoon, a reaction she herself had tremendous difficulty in fending off at the thought of the three of them venturing wither danger lay, and evil roamed freely. The thought that they might perish haunted her, with her instinctive fear for the safety of Trygve and Indulf surprising her. Rarely had they ever uttered any remark not in mockery of her, and yet they had always been all but siblings to her, doting upon her, playing with her in their childhood and otherwise defending her when some such as Helga complained at length about her. This along with the notion of life in Glasvhail without Cormac appeared completely devoid of all worth and meaning. The more she considered the future days that yawned ahead of her, wherein she would not awaken in the morn’ to discover him down the village from her, eager to race her to the oak, or to weave crookedly in comparison to her smooth needlework and otherwise playing at word-games with her.

On her feet in an instant, a great song torn from her lips she let slip forth a song that she recalled her father once singing to her about the Paladin Norbert of Norddard. A great warrior and hero who fought off a dragon once upon a time and whom had fought for decades in the service of the great Neustrian Emperor Aemiliemagne (or Aymon the Great).

“Norbert was the most loyal knight,

All the minstrels sing of his might,

Paladin was he and the most right,

Son of valorous Zackarie Ziusson friend of the King,

His sword was sharp and his laugh did loudly ring,

Thus did all love him, but none more than Saraï,

To whom he exchanged his arm-ring,

Ere the bone of Norençia stole her away,

The seas were wide, the fields green,

The suns shone bright and red,

O’er the hills the scarlet wyrm was seen,

Above the glens and the trees he fled,

All trembled at his bellow and did keen,

Norbert was waiting in the north,

The light of the suns was in his eyes,

His hauberk black as a storm,

There Zackarie came from forests warm,

Together they journey’d under trees,

And where the drake-river swarm,

They came alone the father grieving,

He gazed up at the heavens seas,

Zackarie by his love could not but be torn,

His heart was dark with foreboding,

Determination harden’d the son’s weary spirit,

That duty doom’d him to death,

This he knew, he hasten’d ere the land did erupt,

Sword grasp’d Norbert swung its full-length,

The steel glisten’d and hew’d,

Light danced along its edge,

Both men stood upon the mountains edge,

Norbert saw there the wyrm oft-fly,

Scarlet rubies scales glimmer’d as the suns,

Emerald leaves fell from on high,

Zackarie’s blade blue as cerulean gems,

Light glimmer’d along the sky,

Now burnt lay the fields quavering,

One by one the red droplets did the earth dye,

Booming flames from Zomok did spew,

Hollow leaves fell as rain,

Norbert bellow’d thrice never flinching,

Lo! He swung his blade that cut a claw in twain,

His helm shone from afar in spite of rain,

O! How the maid and their son wept!

To see him fell’d by the wyrm’s claw,

Was truly the very worse of sorrows!

Long would wee Zias grieve, and let tears fall as rain,

Saraï mourn’d and Zackarie strove in vain,

This the minstrels sing with much pain,

Into shadow fell Norbert’s flame,

Short was Zomok’s triumph for he was made lame,

For in both hands Zackarie Ziusson swung star-shining blades,

This last he did ere his left-hand was unmade,

Thus did death to him dance near,

Still he throve!

Lo! Did Zias avenge his father,

His blade was most true,

This to the delight of his mother,

Thus did Zomok receive his due,

Valour loving Norbert thusly fell,

And to the regret of all was he reduced in that dell,

On the peak of Roumont shine the stars,

Long was the homeward journey,

O’er the mountains and through the valleys,

Lo! They rang the horn for the Paladin most worthy,

And so all were fill’d with agony,

Long were the days that follow’d,

For the king’s squire was most dear,

And all were to sing of his courage with many more than one tear!”

At the conclusion of this great song which she sang in the Gallian tongue, and which for this reason floated through the air without the majority of those present understanding a lick of what it was that she had spoke of. Only Cormac who had been taught some Gallian by Corin, and Wulfnoth understood what it was that she had chanted in response to the courage of the lads.

“Amazing,” Ida gasped moved by the song.

“Aye, you sing Norbert’s shortened song well lass,” Wulfnoth praised warmly, leaning back a little in his chair, his badger-like appearance once more pronounced. “It is kind of you to encourage the lads upon their departure.”

“Oh it is not simple encouragement brother, but my oath to them! For where Cormac wanders, I shall follow!” Daegan swore then, with all the heat and passion of a true Caled-woman to the amazement and shock of all assembled.

“Never!” Cormac objected at once, his voice alarmed.

“Think a little, fool-lass!” Indulf added.

“I expected no less from the ‘She-Paladin’,” Trygve grunted beneath his breath.

“Trygve! Quiet!”

“But ma!”

“No buts you fool,” Ida growled once more, before she turned once more to confront the red-haired lass, “Think a little Daegan, this quest is to be a terrible one and could be horribly dangerous and unsettling for all involved!”

“Aye, I may have the flesh of a woman, but I have all the stomach and spirit of a man,” Daegan countered immediately, “As I said where Cormac goes, I follow.”

“Never!” He repeated once more.

“You never let me do as I please,” She accused hurt by his refusal, feeling as though he had rejected her once more.

“When have I ever denied you anything, Dae?”

“Countless times!”

“Name them!” Cormac challenged with equal mounting fury to her own, as swept up by his own rectitude as she.

“Enough the both of you,” Ida complained.

“Why do you take their side, when your sons intend to also set out for certain doom?” Complained the red-faced smith’s daughter, full of fury and prepared to squabble with each and every one of them, until she had her own way.

“I take no sides, nor have I given my permission to my sons to leave, for which I would most heartily remind them that they require it.” This last part was added sternly, the moment Ida caught sight of the mutinous gleam that entered Indulf’s eyes. Though they were but quarter-northern in blood, there was at that moment very little else that they appeared to possess in appearance, at that moment. “I would prefer that the two of you, do not go as I refuse to bury any of my children, should this journey be truly as perilous as what brother Wulfnoth says.” At this time Ida, turned now to the man in question who froze upon his chair, “This is the reason for why he will agree with me that the wisest course of action, may in fact be to entrust the gemstone to him and let him sort it out alongside old Wiglaf.”

“What never! I will never do any such thing!” Wulfnoth shouted at once, to the surprise of all present herewith him, “I cannot- nay I simply must never handle that gemstone, for it is the work of a heathen, of evil itself. For this simple reason, and given the many tales of how it has corrupted men, even clerics which the abbot who raised me passed down to me, in my youth, I dare not! I dare not lady Ida!”

“You would in place of doing your manly duty, place it upon the shoulders of those younger than yourself?” Now the rare of the matron began to mix with the indignation of a she-bear fearful for her sons.

“Well it is one thing for Cormac to go, or even Daegan but my sons-”

“Ma, we are leaving, we shan’t leave Cormac and brother Wulfnoth to pursue this quest without any assistance.” Trygve now spoke up, with a small smile. “Besides, Indulf swore to avenge Inga; you would not begrudge him this last duty, especially as it might be his last chance for closure.”

Only Daegan remembered at that moment, how Trygve had dismissed her offer of assistance, and she promised herself that she would not forget it. Haughty once more, she thereafter would strive she told herself to remind him, of how much fiercer she was than he.

At these words Ida succumbed reluctantly, quiet tears leaking from her eyes. Wulfnoth might have offered her comforting words however; it was in that instant that a great expletive escaped his lips as his chair at last gave out with a thunderous crash.