"Thank the Lord for that hermit," Eliver says, still trying to take in the devastation. "He said I would thank him later..." He relates the tale of how he was delayed in his return. "Somehow I doubt I shall find him again to thank him: unless he was an angel of the Lord, he was surely a magician and I doubt that was his true shape.
"Well, it'll be alright. No-one need go hungry: I haven't told you how well we did in Frankland yet." There's not much opportunity to give more than the briefest account of the campaign though, nor to hear the news from his absence, though he can see that everyone is well, and, what had not been evident when he left, that Gwiona is with child. There is a lot to arrange, beginning with simply working out how to get food to the whole estate tonight, and tomorrow, and the coming days: it isn't a question of cost, but of logistics. Then there is livestock to replace, and what crops can be planted at this time of year: the grain crops are a hopeless cause but there are vegetables and so on that can be grown now.
It is soon clear just how much it will cost to put everything right and keep his people fed until next year. In any other year it would be a complete disaster, but even though Eliver's share of the booty of Caen pales next to Persidius' or Bleddyn's, the remainder is still a sum that's difficult to fully comprehend.
Eliver finds himself spending more lavishly than usual, in spite of everything, and even ordering new construction. At his wife's manor, Whitestone, he spends somewhat on improving the estate's production, and planting an orchard. At Woodford, he has a mews built and hires a falconer, the better to enjoy one of his favourite pastimes. Also a hospital, for the sick poor to be cared for.
Persidius pays a visit, shaking his head at the bare fields. "Will you let me help you restore all this?"
Eliver chuckles, "No cos, I have more than enough silver after the summer. But thank you." They talk a while, and Persi speaks of the fortifications he plans to add to Wayford. El resolves to do the same at Woodford, and soon commences building a stone wall, surrounded by a ditch. It isn't as though they have no enemies - Levcomagus will love them no more after this summer, and he knows his cousin is not entirely sanguine about Duke Lindsey. It would be no good for Woodford to be the only soft target between Persidius' two holdings. And clearly
someone wishes him, Eliver, dead. There is nothing to say that they have given up, or that the next attempt may not be more conventional. He orders similar defenses constructed at Whitestone, too, and hires extra guards: five armoured men for each manor, enough to defend them even when he is away with his regular men on the Earl's service.
Not long after, Bleddyn invites Eliver to Barleyfield, and questioning him about the plague of rats, spends most of the time listing all the sorts of things, such as old women who know too much and things born with one eye, that might be witches. When he passes "goats, and birds that live in bramble bushes," El cannot resist making the absurd suggestion that "perhaps the Rat King was angry that his people never take their share of Woodford's harvest, because our cats kill all the rats, and sent his armies to take revenge." Bleddyn's eyes go wide.
Harvest time passes, and at least the empty fields of Woodford are no longer a strange spectacle. Word comes that Alicia has borne her husband another baby daughter - named Olwen, and seeming already to take after her father in looks. Later in the year, as the first snows begin to fall, a stranger calls at Woodford with a letter.
"All the way from Essex, as they're calling Caercolun now," the messenger says. Elaine and her family are well, and increased in number by a baby boy, named Winfrid, and a fine sturdy child too.
Gwiona is brought to bed just before Christmas, safely, and the baby is remarkably healthy too. He names his firstborn daughter Eleri, and his mother shakes her head and says that half the household will be looking up at the sound of "El." With Moreid and her four little ones, including Eldrid and young Eliver, that's not so far from true, and makes Eliver smile. The hall seems full of children, which is cheerful, and delights Miles on his frequent visits.
Christmas comes and goes, with the usual lively Court at Sarum. Some while after that, on one visit to Wylye, Eliver greets Miles and then gingerly reaches into a sack tied to his saddle bow and lifts out a half-grown cat, which protests loudly. "I have a present for you."
Miles takes the kitten and cradles it in his powerful hands. "It's sweet."
"It's the Woodford breed. They catch
all the mice and rats." His expression clouds over for a moment,"All the normal ones, anyway. My grandmother says you must put butter on her paws, to make her stay put until she's learned that she lives here now."
EDIT: you bet I'll back for 489!