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His hurried footfalls echoed through the hall. Kara was tending the fire in the center of the great hall as Lithor approached.
“Have you seen Balvir?” he asked.
No smiles or cheerful greetings from Lithor today. Lord Eodwine’s turn for the worse did not surprise Lithor as it did others, instead it confirmed his fears. He had silently watched his lord grow sick and silently chastised him. “Ill can only come of taking ill,” he used to joke. “It’s no good ignoring something that’s there. Something has to be done about it.” However, nothing was done about it until Thornden intervened. All those jokes Lithor had made about Eodwine’s illness were no longer playful jests. Eodwine needed help and Lithor had the audacity to make fun of his lord’s predicament. Jokes turned to insults: invisible badges of shame to where around his neck.
“Where is Balvir?” Lithor asked again impatiently. Kara looked up at him and pointed to Eodwine’s chamber.
Lithor silently approached the open doorway. Modryth was attending Eodwine while Balvir and Wilcred stood by with a stretcher.
“How is he?” Lithor whispered.
“Ghostly pale, the trip will be a trial for him.” Responded Wilcred
There was silence again. All three looked on as Modryth attended her lord with extra tender attention. The silence was unbearable for Lithor.
“I will see if the wagon is ready.”
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