Chapter 13Wimborne Abbey, summer 712 AD
Cynethryth, who had been catching up on writing about her visions, was weary. At this warmer time of year, thankfully, there were only routine ailments to deal with and since Sefled was reliable, she left her assistant in charge and became involved only when called upon. Last week, Sefled, out of her depths with the blacksmith's eye, summoned her from the desk and her inky scratching. A small but sharp nail had rebelled under the craftsman's hammer, taking flight and piercing the left eyeball.
For such a muscular man, the smith proved less than stoical. Cynethryth, who needed to operate with delicacy, required his complete cooperation. The fellow's anxiety, constant flinching and restlessness hindered her. She gave him a draught to calm his nerves,
