Helga McDool's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Helga watches from the kitchen window as dust rises on the road. Five riders, maybe six. They're moving too fast to be passing through. She dries her hands on the towel and hangs it on its hook, then walks to the front door where Ivor already stands with his hand on the frame. He doesn't look back at her. He just reaches for the wall where three ceremonial swords hang beside a worn hammer — gifts from his grandfather's time serving the lord's guard. Ivor takes the center blade and hooks it to his belt. Then he steps outside and pulls the door shut behind him. Helga moves to the window and sees him walk past the old pavilion tent they'd raised last summer for harvest celebrations. Its faded banners still hang limp in the still air. Ivor stops just beyond it, squaring his shoulders as the riders slow their approach. The lead rider wears polished armor and sits tall on a gray horse with dark stockings. He calls out something Helga can't hear through the glass. Ivor answers, his voice low and steady. The rider gestures toward the farmhouse, then the east barn. Ivor shakes his head once. The rider leans forward in his saddle, speaking again. This time Ivor takes one step closer and rests his hand on the sword hilt. The riders go quiet. Helga holds her breath. After a long moment, the lead rider straightens and turns his horse. The others follow. They ride back the way they came, slower now, until the dust settles and the road is empty again. Ivor walks back to the house and opens the door. He unhooks the sword and hangs it back on the wall without meeting Helga's eyes. She waits. He finally speaks, his voice rough. "They'll come back with more questions." She nods. He glances toward the shed, then back at her. "You'll need a better place to hide her." It's the first time he's said it out loud — that the girl can stay. Helga feels the weight lift from her chest. The farm has room for one more, and now Ivor knows it too.