Father was dead. Not killed in glorious war. Died of a bloody flux in the holy land.
Now the Order had brought his body home, and Elfrida must do honour to the dead.
She clasped her hands inside the sleeves of her robe and bowed her head as the knights lowered his body into the ground. She sprinkled earth on his coffin.
The knights seemed grim faced, and Elfrida’s courage all but failed her until the tallest of them took off his helm and smiled at her.
He had the bluest eyes.
Eyes that he passed to their twin sons.
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