Lothar

Opening the saddle-bag, Lothar tipped its contents out into his hand.

There was a clump of what might have been letters or dispatch papers, before the damp had got into the bag. Water had made the cheap parchment stick together into one ink-stained mass, its writing washed away. A few loose schillings and coppers were rolling about at the bottom of the bag, and with them something else - a plain pewter locket, of the kind you could buy in any town.

Opening it, he saw it contained a painted miniature of a young woman's face. She was strikingly beautiful, with pale skin, dark hair, and a small, faraway smile. Lothar had to superimpose the pock-marks of the pox in his mind before he could recognise the face as Esther's.

No-one was coming in response to his shout. Only the crows replied, their raucous jabbering echoing through the trees.

1

Pieter

Well, let me be brutally honest: in the following weeks, if this truly is the Rot, you'll lose many ties to Hohlesbruck pretty fast."
Pieter thought he saw a flash of anger cross Arne's face - but it was difficult for the boy to take it out on him, not with him standing with his arm trussed in a sling. Instead he resorted to the sullen silence he did best.

"There's people here that need caring for," said Ellie. She sounded far from certain. "But... I'll think about what you said."