Light fell in through the windows and across Ellen's shoulders, the lattice causing squares of light to blotch the white linen tablecloth draping over the table where she sat waiting. The room could hardly have been a greater contrast to the house she had left this morning. Here the air was clean, no eyewatering smoke. Where the house had been small and practical, this dining room was spacious and luxurious. Around the walls paintings of different people hung, probably lords of earlier generations. An empty fireplace with a mantlepiece made of a polished light gray stone was placed at the far end of the room. 

Her feelings could hardly have been more different either. When she had woken everything was dark, now her soul sang. Sebastian, the little boy, had survived the night, his fever had gone down and another dose of willowbark tea and some of that frightful gruel had sent him into a peaceful slumber. She smiled when she thought of how he looked, his fair hair spreading around his head like a halo and his hand held in a loose fist against his cheek.  

Sir Ivan; today devoid of a red coat, strode into the room. Ellen stood. Behind him a short gray-haired woman walked wearing a blue dress with copious amounts of frills. There was something lively about the woman, her brown eyes sparkled with joy when she saw Ellen and almost jumped forward.

She said in a husky voice, “I see you have been clothed, and it fits you perfectly. We will have a few sewn for you, I’ve heard about what you were wearing and it sounds absolutely frightful. Is it possible to see the items of clothing you were wearing?”

Of course she was referring to the t-shirt with Stephen Hawking's face and jeans that Ellen had been wearing when she appeared in the field the day before. 

“I’m not sure, Eva might have burned them.”

“If not, then please bring them by me,” she curtsied, “I’m Lady Knightscrown, but call me Ragna. Oh, dear I am pleased to have a young person about the place again.”

“I’m Ellen Andersson.”

Ragna sat down next to Ellen at the table, Sir Ivan sat down across, his mustaches quivering slightly. 

“I was a rather ancient mother but now our son has flown the nest. He is at court,” she clasped her hands together, “we should write him. After all this news of a Witch is news fit for a king.” She turned to Ellen, “nobles will come to Sundborn just to visit the Witch.” 

“It has already been done, the letter should arrive today,” Sir Ivan said.

“You are so very efficient my dear,” Ragna said to her husband before turning towards Ellen, “don’t worry dear, after healing that boy's fever I am sure that the silly complaints from nobles can be healed in but a moment.”  

“I am sure she is right,” Sir Ivan said, a smug smile creeping along his face.

Ellen smiled politely and nodded. She had not forgotten Sir Ivan’s outburst the previous day when she had spoken to him about aiding Sebastian’s family with extra food. So she held her tongue. What she wanted was to help people who really needed help. Nobels sounded like trouble that she would rather avoid.

More than anything she wished to leave this strange place and go home, see her mom and dad again. She would even have been happy to go back to hear dreary work.

A servant brought in a tray with three small triangular glasses and what appeared to be a bottle of red wine. Ellen didn’t like wine much but thought it best not decline the offer when the servant poured her a glass.

“To good health and Witches magic!” Sir Ivan said, raising his glass.

Ellen sipped at the red liquid which was mouth puckeringly tart. Sir Ivan had downed it all in one go, the servant refilled his glass and was then waved off.

Ellen tried to formulate in her head what she wanted to say, but was finding it difficult.

“What happens now?”

Sir Ivan raised his bushy eyebrows. “Now? You will stay here. There is a small house on my land that has stood empty for a while, I will have some of my men look over it before you move in.”

“But tonight you will relax and stay here.” Ragna filled in.

“That is very kind of you. But I mean, how will I get food and money? Are people supposed to pay me?”

Sir Ivan and Ragna stared at her and then at each other as if conferring through telepathy. Ellen wondered what they might be thinking, she hoped that she didn’t have to get people to pay her, she would never know what to charge.

A servant came through the door carrying a tray which contained a silver platter and a whole grilled chicken, it was the most enticing thing that Ellen thought she had ever smelled. Her mouth watered at the thought of sinking her teeth into it. The only thing she had eaten since her supposed death was a mouthful of gruel, she hadn’t managed to eat more than that. 

Soon a minor feast stood before them. Besides the chicken there were stewed carrots, swimming in a milky buttery sauce, peas and cooked onions. She was served and as soon as Sir Ivan began she dove in, stuffing herself. Ragna raised her eyebrows at her but only said something along the lines of “Oh dear, you are hungry.” 

Ellen slowed her eating. Her stomach was feeling rather bloated, she gave a deep sigh and leaned back in her chair. There was still food on her plate. What if she could bring some to Sebastian and his family, they needed any food they could get. There was only a linen napkin, it wouldn’t go unnoticed. Maybe Ragna would not shut her down like Sir Ivan had done.

“I am wondering…”

She got no further before a man burst through the door panting, red speckles on his shirt.

“I heard… Witch, help.” He stumbled, falling to his knees next to the door.

Something was terribly wrong.