Edith didn’t reply, neither did she offer them food or wine. The elders talked among themselves and then their spokesman, the miller, turned to her.

‘You, girl, will be married in the traditional costume of this region and nothing else. Do you hear me?’

The six elders stared at her, awaiting an answer, and were struck by her beauty. None of them could remember her being this lovely for in the winter light she possessed an ethereal quality, a shimmer of snow-kissed skin. It was they who looked away first.

The cabinet maker appeared in the kitchen, unshaven, his clothes dishevelled. He was frightened to see the elders there.

‘I’m going to stop,’ he announced. ‘The drinking. It’s just that I’ve had a lot on my…’

The miller said, ‘We’re not here about that. We’re here about the wedding dress.’

Edith’s father was visibly relieved.

‘We heard that the seamstress has been asked to make your daughter a wedding dress. We forbid it. Our ancestors laid down strict rules about dress for both men and women. This goes against all our beliefs.’

‘It’s not my doing,’ said the cabinet maker, shuffling towards the table. He scraped back a chair and sat down.

‘You must put an end to it,’ said another elder. ‘You should never have indulged your daughter in this ridiculous notion in the first place.’

‘I didn’t. I never would,’ mumbled her father again. He was eyeing the cupboard where the schnapps was kept.

‘What did he say?’ said one of the elders.

The thin man repeated the cabinet maker’s answer.

‘Then whose doing was it, if not yours?’

The question hung in the air, a ghost finding shape. The cabinet maker spoke his words clearly, so all could hear. ‘The butcher’s.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ said the miller. ‘The butcher is an upstanding member of this community, a man to be respected – he would never break with tradition.’

That Sunday the priest, being informed of what had happened, and fearing that his friend the butcher had been bewitched by the girl, took matters into his own hands with, of course, the Lord’s blessing. In the pulpit he spoke of a well-known prophecy, unashamedly addressing Edith and the seamstress.

‘When luxury and extravagance have spread so far over the face of the earth that everyone walks about in silken attire and when sin is no longer a shame, then the end of the world is not far off.’

His voice filled the rafters and though no one turned to look directly at Edith she felt all eyes upon her, particularly those of the butcher’s two daughters.

‘Few men will remain alive in this country, not more than can find a place in the shade of an ancient oak tree.’