looked at Colin, but he was not looking at the body, but at the clearing beyond. It was larger than the one in front of the steward’s house. At its edges lay half a dozen huts, at the far end the Norman church. And in the center, on the trampled snow, lay the bodies. They had made no attempt at burying them, though by the church there was a shallow trench, a mound of snow-covered dirt piled beside it. Some of them seemed to have been dragged to the churchyard—there were long, sledlike marks in the snow—and one at least had crawled to the door of his hut. He lay half in, half out. “ ‘Fear
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