Konstantin appeared next, white-faced. “Bjårk! Bjårk! Heel! Come here! Heel!!”

But Bjårk was cavorting now, having discovered some cracker bits he’d upturned on the floor, and was eating and dashing about, unable to see beyond the tables and badly confused.

He was so big and hairy—and an unknown—that people were unwilling to lay a hand on him in case he bit it off. Some old farmers made a grab for him, but he was still bucking about, tail waving madly now, having a fabulous time as he caused absolute havoc. It didn’t help that at that point the piper thought it was his cue to come in from the outside (where his fingers were freezing off), immediately starting up a noise incredibly loud even in the big room, startling the most hardened bagpipe listeners, never mind poor old Bjårk, who immediately leaped even harder and started barking, trying to join in.

“Bjårk!! Kom hit!”

“I will keel your dog and then you! It shall be a bouillabaisse and you may both float!” said Gaspard, waving a meat mallet—the closest object he had to hand—in the air and going straight after Konstantin, who ducked straight under him to get on his way. The entire room was havoc and chaos, between people genuinely upset at losing their dinner in this way and everyone else, who were doubled up in helpless laughter as the entire kitchen staff chased a bouncing dog round and round the tables.

“Och, everyone, be quiet!” shouted Flora finally, and grabbed a piece of the venison off the nearest broken plate. This was all so awful, but she couldn’t let herself think like that right now. Instead she knelt down and opened her hand to the dog. “Come here, sweetie.” She spoke in the soft voice that worked incredibly well with Bramble, Douglas, and, as it happened, Joel.

She held her hand out steadily as Bjårk paused in his bounding for a second.

“There we are, come and try this,” she said softly and soothingly. The dog paused and she didn’t move, so he stealthily made his way toward her.

Just as he opened his mouth to take the meat, Konstantin pounced on him from behind with a makeshift lead made from two tea towels hastily tied together and managed to restrain him for long enough to pick him up, whereupon Bjårk immediately wrestled his way out of Konstantin’s arms and knocked over another table. As if as a final word, the table hit the wall, hard, and the huge stag head that was hanging on a nail fell off, striking the ground with a clang. Bjårk, confronted with what he thought was a stag, instantly went absolutely berserk and started growling and advancing on the stag in a menacing fashion, belly to the floor. Konstantin clapped his hand over his eyes, then threw himself on the floor behind Bjårk and dragged himself along on his own belly until he got close enough to grab the dog’s back legs. Front paws struggling mercilessly, Bjårk complained vociferously all the way backward through the swinging kitchen doors as they slammed behind them.