"Agnes!" Rosemund said furiously.

Kivrin looked up. Agnes had come to a stop and was twisted backwards in her saddle again. She obediently moved forward again, but Rosemund said, "I will wait for you no longer, ninney!" and kicked her horse into a trot, scattering the chickens and practically running down a barefoot little girl with an armload of faggots.

"Rosemund!" Kivrin called, but she was already out of earshot, and Kivrin didn't want to leave Agnes's side to go after her.

"Is your sister angry about fetching the holly?" Kivrin asked Agnes, knowing that wasn't it, but hoping Agnes would volunteer something else.

"She is ever cross-grained," Agnes said. "Grandmother will be wroth that she rides so childishly." She trotted her pony decorously across the green, a model of maturity, nodding her head to the villagers.

The little girl Rosemund had almost run down stopped and stared at them, her mouth open. The steward's wife looked up as they passed and smiled, and then went on milking, but the men who were cutting wood took off their caps and bowed.

They rode past the hut where Kivrin had taken shelter the day she tried to find the drop. The hut she had sat in while Gawyn was bringing her things back to the manor.

"Agnes," Kivrin said, "did Father Roche go with you when you went after the Yule log?"

"Aye," Agnes said. "He had to bless it."

"Oh," Kivrin said, disappointed. She had hoped perhaps he had gone with Gawyn to fetch her things and knew where the drop was. "Did anyone help Gawyn bring my things to the manor?"

"Nay," Agnes said, and Kivrin couldn't tell whether she really knew or not. "Gawyn is very strong. He killed four wolves with his sword."

That sounded unlikely, but so did his rescuing a maiden in the woods. And it was obvious he would do anything if he thought it would win him Eliwys's love, even to dragging the wagon home singlehanded.

"Father Roche is strong," Agnes said.

"Father Roche has gone," Rosemund said, already off her horse. She had tied it to the lychgate, and was standing in the churchyard, her hands on her hips.

"Have you looked in the church?" Kivrin asked.

"Nay," Rosemund said sullenly. "But look how cold it grows. Father Roche would have more wit than to wait here till it snows."

"We will look in the church," Kivrin said, dismounting and holding her arms to Agnes. "Come on, Agnes."

"Nay," Agnes said, sounding almost as stubborn as her sister, "I would wait here with Saracen." She patted the pony's mane.

"Saracen will be all right," Kivrin said. She reached for the little girl and lifted her down. "Come on, we'll look in the church first." She took her hand and opened the lychgate to the churchyard.

Agnes didn't protest, but she kept glancing anxiously over her shoulder at the horses. "Saracen likes not to be left alone."

Rosemund stopped in the middle of the churchyard and turned around, her hands on her hips. "What are you hiding, you wicked girl? Did you steal apples and put them in your saddlebags?"

"No!" Agnes said, alarmed, but Rosemund was already striding toward the pony. "Stay from there! It is not your pony!" Agnes shouted. "It is mine!"

Well, we won't have to go find the priest, Kivrin thought. If he's here, he'll come out to see what all the noise is.

Rosemund was unbuckling the straps to the saddlebag. "Look!" she said, and held up Agnes' puppy by the scruff of its neck.

"Oh, Agnes," Kivrin said.

"You are a wicked girl," Rosemund said. "I should take it to the river and drown it." She turned in that direction.

"Nay!" Agnes wailed and ran to the lychgate. Rosemund immediately held the puppy up out of Agnes's reach.

This has gone absolutely far enough, Kivrin thought. She stepped forward and took the puppy away from Rosemund. "Agnes, stop howling. Your sister won't hurt your puppy."

The puppy scrabbled against Kivrin's shoulder, trying to lick her cheek. "Agnes, hounds can't ride horses. Blackie wouldn't be able to breathe in your saddlebag."

"I could carry him," Agnes said, but not very hopefully. "He wanted to ride my pony."

"He had a nice ride to the church," Kivrin said firmly. "And he will have a nice ride back to the stable. Rosemund, take Blackie back to the stable." It was trying to bite her ear. She gave it to Rosemund, who took hold of the back of its neck. "It's just a baby, Agnes. It must go back to its mother now and sleep."

"You are the babe, Agnes!" Rosemund said, so furiously Kivrin was not sure she trusted her to take the puppy back. "To put a hound upon a horse! And now we must waste yet more time taking it back! I shall be glad when I am grown and no longer have to do with babes!"

She mounted, still holding the puppy up by its neck, but once she was in her saddle, she wrapped it almost tenderly in the corner of her cloak and cupped it against her chest. She took the reins with her free hand and turned the horse. "Father Roche has surely gone by now!" she said angrily and galloped off.

Kivrin was afraid she was probably right. The racket they had made had almost been enough to wake the dead under the wooden tombstones, but no one had appeared from the church. He had no doubt left before they arrived and now was long gone, but Kivrin took Agnes's hand and led her into the church.

"Rosemund is a wicked girl," Agnes said.

Kivrin felt inclined to agree with her, but she could hardly say that, and she didn't feel much like defending Rosemund, so she didn't say anything.

"Nor am I a babe," Agnes said, looking up at Kivrin for confirmation, but there was nothing to say to that either. Kivrin pushed the heavy door open and stood looking into the church.

There was no one there. It was dim almost to blackness in the nave, the gray day outside sending no light at all through the narrow stained-glass windows, but the half-open door gave enough light to see it was empty.

"Mayhap he is in the chancel," Agnes said. She squeezed past Kivrin into the dark nave, knelt, crossed herself, and then looked impatiently back over her shoulder at Kivrin.

There was no one in the chancel either. She could see from there that there were no candles lit on the altar, but Agnes wasn't going to be satisfied till they had searched the whole church. Kivrin knelt and made her obeisance beside her, and they walked up to the rood screen through the near darkness. The candles in front of the statue of Saint Catherine had been extinguished. She could smell the sharp scent of tallow and smoke. She wondered if Father Roche had snuffed them out before he left. Fire would have been a huge problem, even in a stone church, and there were no votive glasses for the candles to burn down safely in.

Agnes went right up to the rood screen, pressed her face against the cut-out wood, and called, "Father Roche!" She turned around immediately and announced, "He isn't here, Lady Kivrin. Mayhap he is in his house," she said, and ran out the priest's door.

Kivrin was sure Agnes was not supposed to do that, but there was nothing to do but follow her across the churchyard to the nearest house.

It had to belong to the priest because Agnes was already standing outside the door yelling "Father Roche!", and of course the priest's house was next to the church, but Kivrin was still surprised.

The house was as ramshackle as the hut she had rested in and not much larger. The priest was supposed to get a tithe of everyone's crops and livestock, but there were no animals in the narrow yard except for a few scraggly chickens, and less than an armload of wood stacked out front.

Agnes had started banging on the door, which looked as insubstantial as the hut's, and Kivrin was afraid she'd knock it open and walk straight in, but before she could get to her, Agnes turned and said, "Mayhap he is in the belltower."