No one could say there was a son of the god in it. There was not. But everyone looking at that work, if they were minded to, could imagine, privately, the splash of a body into the sea, then disappearing there. The terrifying glory of flight, and the terrifying fall.

So much uncertainty lies in art, and what endures. Where and when the lightning flash of brilliance will strike. What is valued in a given time, or over time. And what is lost, forgotten.

It is the same, writ large, when we consider actual events in our lives: faith, doubt, war, peace. Famine, abundance. Storms at sea, or sweeping across the land, bending or breaking trees. Rain or drought. Winter’s ice. Ice in the heart. Afternoon sunlight for the autumn’s harvest. Health, sickness. Desire. Calamitous misfortune. Friendship. Love.

Silvy always thought that her having part ownership of The Lamb was an indicator of how generous a man Eudes was. He declared that it was simply a measure of her skill at running a tavern.

It was a good partnership.

Some years ago he had been forced to leave Orane in haste, to return to the the southwest where his family lived and owned land. His father was ill, likely dying. Silvy hadn’t known where Eudes was from, or about the land, and neither had Anni. People tended not to ask questions about origins in Orane, and perhaps particularly not of an extremely large man. Eudes happened to be one of the gentlest people on earth, but he didn’t like people knowing that. Wasn’t useful in a tavern for keeping order.

He was away for months, in the event, and Silvy’s period of dealing with affairs in The Lamb, intended to be brief, lasted through that time. It seemed there were matters to address back home after Eudes’s father did die and was buried.

He told her a little about this when he came back. He had not sold the family property. Had arranged to divide the farm, and to assign the mill to someone for an annual fee. He had leased the land, half each, to two cousins who hated each other. His mother would have the farmhouse for as long as she lived, and a share of the profit and produce. He’d advised each cousin to keep an eye on the other, made both responsible for his mother. Told them he would return and kill them if they cheated him. He looked like a frightening man.

He’d also retained a third relative—a man who didn’t like either of the other two (they were a fractious family, Silvy came to understand)—to monitor both, and send him notice if he saw anything untoward. He paid this man a fee to do that. According to Eudes, the affairs of the family land had been calm ever since.