The blacksmith’s cart arrived at the butcher’s house fifteen minutes later and Edith let it into the yard. The blacksmith and Misha lifted the body of the butcher onto a sheet and covered it with another.

‘May I come with you?’ the priest asked the blacksmith. He had no desire to face his congregation. The sooner he was gone from here the better.

‘Yes,’ said the blacksmith. ‘I’m only going to the forge.’

‘I know,’ said the priest.

Misha opened the gates and the cart trundled off. The priest, sitting beside the body of the butcher, appeared to have shrunk in size. Children ran behind, pulling faces at him.

Half an hour later, the death of the butcher was no longer a rumour. Women, men and children came out into the sunshine and stood in the square in the morning light, waiting for something to be said to mark the momentous event. Usually the butcher would take the lead but that strange morning it was the mayor.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘I have to inform you that the butcher has taken his own life.’

There was a gasp of surprise, then a stunned silence.

‘Is he really dead?’ asked someone.

‘Yes,’ said the mayor.

‘Does that mean we’ll have to pay what we owe him?’ said another voice.

‘Yes, what about the money?’ asked one of the farmers.

The mayor had discussed the matter with Vanda and Misha before he’d ventured out to give his address. They’d both said the debts should go with the butcher’s dying.

‘Anyone owing money to the butcher will not have to pay back a penny,’ said the mayor. ‘That is the wish of his two daughters and his grandson.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ asked another.

‘Yes, now go home,’ said the mayor.

‘But what about the priest?’ said the farmer.

The question surprised the mayor. ‘What about the priest?’ he said.

‘He’s as bad as the butcher, they worked together. He’ll come for the money.’

‘Yes,’ agreed another. ‘He’ll come and he’ll threaten us.’

‘That won’t happen,’ said the mayor. ‘Once the butcher has been buried, the priest will leave, and a new priest found.’.

There was a shout of heartfelt joy.

The mayor realised how isolated he’d been from this community. He should have stepped in long ago. He felt ashamed to think that he hadn’t had the courage to stop the butcher. He caught sight of his wife in the crowd and thought, I should have had the courage to tell her about the letters. She would have stood up to the butcher. She’s stronger than I am. He looked up as the church bells rang out into the mountain. Freedom, they pealed.

Chapter Thirty-One

The Letter