“Are you a witch?” a voice called out from behind her. Theohild had been out searching along the shore for golden mallard eggs. The serving girl had sworn that mermaids would leave them buried in the sand, and that the best time to find them was just before dawn.
She glanced over her shoulder. A boy was standing there, a nervous expression upon his face. He was a strange sight, to be sure, with hair so bright it looked like he had been dipped in the snow as a babe. However, he clearly had feet, and not a tail, so he was not the mermaid she was searching for.
“Who told you I was a witch?” She said, more as if she was wondering aloud rather than speaking directly to him.
“My brother,” the boy replied, stepping closer.
Theohild shook her head vehemently. “Brothers lie. You shouldn’t believe everything they say.”
“Freware said so too, the fisher’s daughter. She said you speak to the dead, and animals too, and she once saw you bid a fish jump into your basket and it did, simply because you asked. She said it must have been magic.”
“That would be remarkable,” Theohild agreed. “However, I have no idea of what you speak. What’s a witch?”
The boy looked at his feet. “The king’s priest said they’re wicked women who command spirits do unnatural things.”
“You’ve certainly been talking about me with a great many people. What is it you want, anyhow?”
His mouth twisted. “I lost my father’s hound in the woods and he’ll beat me if I go home without it. I’ve been chasing the stupid thing all night. I thought you could speak to him and tell him to go home.”
Theohild chuckled. “You don’t need a witch or magic to lure a dog. You only need a bit of fresh meat. Stay here. I’ll nick some from the kitchen.”
Theohild shook her head and headed back towards home. She would have to seek out the mermaids and their golden eggs another day.
