Wild Bird by Diane Zahler

Author:Diane Zahler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Roaring Brook Press

I wake alone. I have been alone for a long time. I am so cold. The fire is dead. Everyone, everything, is dead. When I push the door open against the snow that has fallen, the village is silent. Even the birds do not sing. The only footprints in the snow are mine. I have been to all the cottages, taken all the food I can find. There is nothing left. I find myself talking to Gudrun, to Sigrid. To Mama, to Per. Nobody answers, of course. I am the only person left in the world.

Chapter Nine

“What do we call the prince-bishop?” I asked as Ysabella pulled a comb through my knotted hair.

Ysabella paused. “That’s a good question. Is he Your Highness, as a prince would be? Or Your Excellency, as a bishop would be?”

“Your Excellent Highness,” I suggested. “Your High Excellency?”

Ysabella laughed. “I think we’ll just let Raymond do the talking, as usual.” Expertly she wove my hair into a braid and tied the end with a piece of ribbon that she pulled from her bodice. “There. You look quite presentable.”

“So do you,” I said. Of course, Ysabella always looked beautiful, but she had done a little extra primping. She wore the kirtle she’d been given in Essen, which left her delicate shoulder blades uncovered, and her dark curls were crowned with a velvet band embroidered with vivid flowers.

Ysabella curtsied. “Thank you, milady,” she said, and I giggled at the address.

We ventured out into the hall and met Owen, Jacme, and Raymond. Raymond and Owen looked rested, but Jacme’s eyes were still shadowed and he had a scowl on his handsome face. Ysabella put an arm around him.

“What ails you, brother?” she asked. “Was the pillow too soft for you? The bedclothes too warm?”

“The fleas were too hungry,” Jacme said. “I itch from neck to knees. And the place looks so clean!”

“It only takes one flea to make a night miserable,” Ysabella said. “Poor boy! Perhaps Abbot Bernard’s infirmarian will have something to soothe you.”

“Don’t mention it to the abbot,” Jacme said. “He would be embarrassed. He was a good host.”

Raymond laughed. “Oh, I would love to embarrass him!” But Jacme shook his head stubbornly.

We went to morning mass with the monks. Brother Marco, as unfriendly as the day before, motioned to us afterward, and we followed him to the abbot’s office.

“I hope you slept well, my friends,” Abbot Bernard said. I saw Ysabella smother a grin and pinch Jacme, but he ignored her.

“Very well indeed, Father Abbot!” Raymond said. “We thank you for your hospitality. Your monks have been very kind—though that one is a bit gloomy.” He motioned to the door, behind which, I was sure, Brother Marco lurked.

Abbot Bernard shook his head. “Brother Marco is a woeful case. He was brought to us ill and suffering last year. Not the Sickness, but a terrible fever. He’d lost everyone—much like you, Rype. But unlike you, though he survived, he has turned inward and allowed his loss to sour him and make him fearful.

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