Ursa can’t speak. She hates him, she knows now. Hates all of them. She knew of the trial from Absalom’s mention of it in the first kirke meeting, but had not guessed that the woman had been put to death, that her husband with his own hands murdered her. Branded. Strangled. Burnt. The words repeat like a child’s rhyme. She shudders, and it doesn’t escape Fru Cunningham’s notice.
