pyre, which climbed above my head, I saw in the light of
the fire my lamb upon the ground with its throat cut. The
villainous coven members had reached the wooded areas
all about and disappeared.
“In an apoplexy of rage and hatred, I thrust my
riding boot out from my stirrup and kicked the burning
logs. A section of the bonfire gave way and went crashing
down the far side of the Ridge. I sprang from my horse
and rushed to look down the hill. The burning, sizzling
logs tumbled madly down the steep climb—directly
toward my stable keeper’s cottage. Several thick fiery
trunks struck a boulder farther down and launched
themselves onto the thatched roof, which instantly ignited.
“I began a mad scramble down the hill, tripping
and rolling, and screaming all the way, for I realized the
family had not heard the pagan ritual and was asleep in
bed. The cottage became an inferno before I had stumbled
halfway down the cliff, and suddenly numerous screams
answered my own. I fell impotently to my knees as the
roof collapsed and the logs walls were consumed by
orange streamers of annihilation.
“I was overcome with sorrow, but morning came
with tasks that demanded attention. I had the remains
removed from the ashes for a decent burial, and I expelled
the laboring families from my land. I could not be certain
which children had been involved, so prosecution would be
an unseemly matter. Simply evicting some of the poor
families was probably tantamount to a death sentence, but
I would sanction no future tenants. Beyond all this, I knew
that my own anger had caused the conflagration. Self-
loathing consumed my soul.
27