Speed
Elias cut the sheets into strips, boiled them, and dressed his wounds. Splashing them with rotgut spirits while he chewed through Franz’s jerky.
Whatever it was that he looked like wasn’t going to get him anywhere good, and an explanation wasn’t available. But a smartly dressed leper could walk the streets. A suit in the distance remains unmolested, and Elias needed that now.
He knew who he was; he did not feel different for having to pretend.
According to Franz’s pocket watch it was half past eleven by the time Elias was fed, dressed, and ready to leave. He walked the house, packing anything that looked useful. More money, a small shaving kit, jerky he wrapped in paper, flint stones.
Elias paused in the kitchen. He selected three of Franz’s knives, sharpened them well, then tucked them into the lining of his jacket.
He stole one of Franz’s graze hungry horses, but left his carriage, and rode hard.
Through the wood to Ingelstad.