Wolfsangel Read Online Free PDF

‘You nearly made me jump out of my skin.’

    ‘Well, I did jump out of mine,’ said the man, sliding away the paw that concealed his shame and then whipping it back again.

    ‘How dare you appear in front of my wife like that!’ said the farmer, who was a pious man when it suited him.

    ‘The wolf behind you?’ said the strange man.

    ‘Where?’ said the farmer. ‘Oh Lord, the eyes.’

    The farmer turned to run but he had those grim burning eyes in front of him in the wood and the strange and terrible young man behind. He had nowhere to go and, his brain running out of ideas for what to do with his body, he simply flopped to the floor.

    ‘Not eyes,’ said the man, ‘just torches left by some kind traveller.’

    The farmer squinted into the darkness. Now it was obvious: they were just brands.

    ‘As I thought,’ said the farmer.

    ‘Fire,’ said the pale man. ‘That is the way to keep the wolf at bay.’ He walked to the wood and returned with the two burning torches. Now he had tied the wolf skin’s back paws around his midsection.

    ‘I have covered that serpent that tempted Eve,’ he said.

    The man held the torches up and looked at the peasants. ‘A farmer, his pretty piggy wife and who is this rare beauty? No wonder you panic, old man, to see such a face.’

    ‘I wasn’t panicking I was . . . taking advantage of the terrain, that is why I got down.’

    ‘It seems this one knows better than you that fire keeps the wolf at bay,’ said the man, holding up his hand to Saitada’s chin and studying the scar on her face.

    Saitada did not flinch to hear his words because the scorn of a man meant nothing to her. He gently turned the undamaged side of her face towards him.

    ‘Such beauty is a terrible thing,’ said the man, ‘for no shield can deflect its dart, and even the most nimble of warriors can no more dodge it than you can, old man.’

    ‘You are mocking me,’ said Saitada, ‘but I am glad of it if it means you will not lay your hands upon me.’

    ‘No, lady,’ said the man. ‘You are far more beautiful to me than any woman on earth. You have snatched the spool of destiny from the hands of the fates and woven a skein yourself. ’

    ‘You speak fine words, sir,’ said the farmer.

    ‘High praise from such a judge,’ said the traveller with a bow.

    ‘And now you’re mocking me!’ said the farmer, who like most old men tended to hear only those parts of the conversation that concerned himself. ‘I once threw a spear the length of a laine. And it stuck in the mud properly too.’

    ‘Don’t worry, ma’am,’ said the man to the farmer’s wife. ‘I shall mock you when I have finished with your husband, but, oh, shall I ever finish with such an example? No, ma’am, you are quite safe, I shall never finish with him.’

    ‘What of that wolf?’ said the farmer, whose head had become a little disordered since the stranger’s appearance, though he had drunk little.

    ‘I have slain that night-time caller, that freeman of the forests, that furry sir, oh farmer, my manure mangler, my seedy serf, my shit smith. But he tore my clothes,’ said the man. ‘Will you lend me some of yours so that I might cover the splendour the priests would call our shame?’ He went to pull the wolf skin away but stopped at the last instant.

    ‘If you have killed the wolf, as I see you have, then I owe you a cloak,’ said the old man. ‘Here in the house I have one that has served me many winters.’

    ‘I prefer the expensive one you’re wearing,’ said the man. ‘It was woven by the finest hand that ever picked up a distaff.’

    ‘It was woven by me,’ said Saitada.

    ‘I know it, lady,’ said the man and bowed deeply.

    ‘She is not a lady, she is a slave,’ said the farmer.

    ‘She’s freer than you will ever be,’ said the man. ‘Now get me your cloak before I tear the skin from your back and wrap myself in that instead.’

    The stranger’s words seemed to sizzle