than Sweyn but seemed the younger of the two. He was lankier and more scrawnily built, although the two years spent farm labouring had developed his strength and stamina. He had an inane grin that rarely left his face and took his lead from Sweyn, who was marginally brighter than him. They were close as brothers, paired by their position in a large family and united in their enjoyment of teasing Leveret, whom they both deeply resented.
‘Alright? Mother gone already?’
‘Yeah. Get Gefrin a tankard too, Hare-brain.’
When she returned with it they both sat and looked at her.
‘Don’t improve with age, does she?’ laughed Sweyn.
‘Still ugly and skinny. I pity the man who ends up with her.’
‘Doubt anyone’d have her – nobody’d be that desperate.’
Leveret ignored them. They’d been mocking her looks since she was a small child and by now she thoroughly believed what they said.
‘Is there anything else or can I get on with the weaving now?’ she asked evenly.
‘Are you getting uppity?’
‘No.’
‘Is she meant to be weaving then?’ asked Gefrin, gulping at his cider.
‘Yeah, and she’s upset Mother good and proper tonight. Her cheeks were bright red – you know how they go when she’s rattled.’
‘Can’t have that, can we?’ giggled Gefrin, shaking the lank hair from his face.
‘No we can’t,’ agreed Sweyn. ‘Poor old Mother. Things have slipped since we left, haven’t they? I think Leveret needs to be taught a lesson tonight.’
‘Yes, a good lesson. What did you have in mind?’
‘Let’s have a little think. More cider, Lev! More cider, and then you can wait out in the scullery. Shut the door behind you.’
They wouldn’t let her take a cloak or shawl and made her stand in the chilly scullery for a good half hour. When she was summoned back inside she was shivering and pinched with cold.
‘Don’t stand next to the fire!’ said Sweyn sharply. ‘No point trying to warm up, not where you’re going.’
‘No, not where you’re going!’
They both laughed and Leveret took a deep breath, keeping her eyes down. She contemplated running, but there was little point – Gefrin’s long legs were faster than hers and having to chase and catch her always made them worse.
‘Mother’ll be really angry if I don’t do any weaving,’ she said neutrally.
‘Too right she will,’ agreed Gefrin.
‘I expect she’ll punish you for it. Poor Lev.’
Sweyn heaved himself up from the chair and burped loudly. He gripped her arm and swung her round so she stumbled into him. Then he pushed her away into Gefrin who also shoved her hard, making her fall into the table and bang her hip. They laughed again; this had been a favourite childhood game they called ‘Pass the hare’.
‘Come on then, up you go,’ said Sweyn, pushing her towards the stairs.
‘Where?’ she whispered, her heart sinking.
‘You know where,’ said Gefrin. ‘Have a guess.’
‘Your favourite place!’ chuckled Sweyn. ‘Somewhere you haven’t been for a long time.’
‘Far too long, seeing as how you used to love it when you were little. Good job you’re still little.’
Leveret stopped at the foot of the staircase, panic rising within her.
‘Please!’ she said quietly, her mouth dry. ‘Please don’t put me in there. I didn’t fit inside last time and that was over a year ago.’
Gefrin giggled and poked her in the back sharply.
‘Upstairs, Lev. You’re going in the cupboard and we’ll make you fit.’
‘Please! Sweyn, please, I—’
‘Shut up, Leveret – you should’ve thought before you upset our Mother. Good job we came round tonight to put you straight. UPSTAIRS!’
They dragged and pushed her up the staircase to the first floor and then up the wide ladder to the attic above, where Rosie and Yul had slept all those years ago in the tiny bedrooms under the eaves. In one of the rooms, tucked in a nook between the roof and a wall, was a small cupboard built into the recess and extending back under the eaves. It was here that, as a small child, they’d locked Leveret in the darkness for hours on end.
They’d filled her head with frightening tales which they elaborated on each time, of how a child had once died in the tiny space and how, if she were very quiet, she’d hear his ghostly heart-beat and soft breathing. It was in here that her trances had begun, for they’d made her so frightened that she always lost consciousness. Not that the boys knew this – once the door was bolted, they assumed her silence was down to terror and when they dragged her