The Tale of Oriel Read Online Free PDF Page B

night into sheeted ice that covered everything, like snow, then melted the next day under the cold rains. The boys stayed inside, except when they needed to feed the animals and visit the privies, day after day. The Damall moved restlessly around the house, a blanket wrapped around him. It was earlier each day that he called for his tankards of wine, and called for the whipping box.
    Day after day, the weather went on, unchanging. One afternoon all the boys complained of stomach pains, and thirst, and the shits. Some even stayed miserably outside, to be close to the privies. The Damall stayed in his bed, with buckets to be emptied by whatever boy was well enough to carry out, and dump, and put back. By the next morning all felt eased, as if some poison had worked its way out of their bodies. In the morning, all the boys gathered pale and weak in the main hall, where the Damall waited pale and weak for them. Outside, sleet clattered down. Inside, the Damall’s eyes glittered. The whipping box was set out and the whip hung in its place on the side of the stone fireplace.
    There was danger. Not immediate danger, but mounting danger. Nikol went up to whisper in the Damall’s ear and after a few words the Damall brushed him away. The Damall didn’t eat that day’s soup, and neither did Nikol.
    He thought he could see the shape of the danger, forming out of darkness.
    By the second morning, all the boys felt well again, and hungry. The Damall had also recovered. The Damall sat beside the fire, the whipping box on the floor before him, a thin smile playing across his lips. The whip rested in his hands. “Nikol,” the Damall called.
    Nikol approached, waited before the Damall’s chair.
    He looked at the two faces, and recognized his own fear. He did not yet know what he had to fear, but he would find it out. He didn’t doubt that.
    He also didn’t doubt the courage of his heart to respond to the danger, whatever it was. He wouldn’t let himself doubt his courage. He didn’t dare to let himself doubt his courage.
    â€œNikol accuses Griff,” the Damall announced. “Griff. Step forward.”
    Griff went forward.
    â€œFace them,” the Damall said.
    Griff turned around and faced the seated boys. Griff’s hands clasped and unclasped together. Griff’s tongue wet his lips, and wet his lips again.
    He looked at Griff’s familiar face. He didn’t know what the Damall, and Nikol, were playing at. Nikol looked right at him then, and smiled.
    He didn’t like Nikol’s smile.
    The Damall also looked at him. The Damall didn’t smile. “Come forward,” the Damall said.
    He stood up. He moved forward, over the limbs of seated boys. There were three boys then, standing before the Damall in his highbacked chair. He faced the Damall, and Nikol, and Griff. Griff held his hands clasped together, and his jaw clamped tight, to keep himself quiet. Griff must think that if he were still and quiet, the danger would flow over him, like water. He wondered if Griff hoped to ride out the danger, as seaweed rides out the tide, by standing still, floating silent. He wondered how he, himself, rode out danger—and knew the answer before he had finished asking the question, when he felt his spirit spread out its wings, to rise up and away over, to look down on and see clearly, to soar free. Griff’s way was not his way.
    Griff’s way would not deflect this danger. He knew that. How he knew, he couldn’t have said, but the knowledge set his heart beating fast.
    The Damall raised a hand and pointed a finger at him. “You be judge.”
    He didn’t question the choice. The Damall must not see any doubt or weakness.
    Nikol accused Griff. “He put something in the soup to make us sick.”
    â€œI didn’t!” Griff cried.
    â€œYou did!” Nikol cried.
    â€œWhy would I?”
    â€œTo make us sick,” Nikol said. “Like you did