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Cnebba, Garmund, and Javan had been sent out early to search for stones to help build the sheep pen. They had the low wagon hitched to two horses and had spent an hour filling it with rocks and stones of many sizes. Now they drove it back, rattling over the stony earth at the base of the scar and up towards where men worked with wood poles for the gate and fence.
As they drew near, Javan identified all the men there. Mostly, they were soldiers. Crabannan was there, and Nydfara, too. When the boys drove up, the men were working, hewing the logs for the fence, but they also were speaking. Javan and the other two boys began tossing stones down from the wagon.
Crabannan was talking to Nydfara, apparently being questioned. “If you had asked me then…no.”
“Asked him what?” Javan queried aloud, but no one paid him any mind.
“And now?”
"Some things can't be changed, no matter the passage of years. What's done is done. Like this new eorl. I'm no fool. I owe it to no man to like it, but I know full well that Athanar is here to stay. Eodwine is back, but he'll never be eorl again...barring disaster."
Javan dropped his rock and straightened. Garmund howled when the rock hit his foot, but Javan pushed his shoulder hard. “Shush, did you hear that?”
“I hope you don't have any particular disaster in mind,” jested Scyld. “This hall has seen enough misfortune to last a while yet, I think.”
“What are you talking about?” Javan asked. He sprang across the sideboard of the wagon and ran the two steps to the men. “Eodwine’s back already? I thought he was getting back later today?”
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