Dietlinde softens a bit, her shoulders dropping at Petronius' conciliatory words. Her voice remains firm, however, and the edge remains. "You ask for information, yet do not give your names. Your words are pretty, but your arrogance remains." She waves a hand at a bench. "Sit. I suppose the only way to be rid of you is to tell you want you want to hear."
Turning, she calls into the house, "Trude, please bring the tea for the guests." She glances back at the magi, putting particular emphasis on the last word. She then settles back to her own stool, and picks up the herb bundle again. Her large hands deftly braid the strands together. "So, you know I took care of the man, Sigmund, and that he died. As I said it was a grievous head wound." She pays careful attention to the work, then looks at Horst. "I am sorry for the loss to your family. What else would you like to know?"
The pair sits on the bench, but it is Petronius that continues the discussion. "My apologies, my name is Petronius and this is Horst."
"One of the things we are trying to determine is how Sigmund came to be wounded. From what you saw, what could have caused it? Did it seem to be from a weapon, or from a fall? Did the people who brought him in explain how they found him? And did he regain consciousness while you were treating him, or mutter in delirium?"
Dietlinde pauses and looks sharply at the magus, then nods, and continues arranging herbs in the bundle.
"I met those who found him. A father and son, both with compassion. I questioned them about what they knew." Trude appears from the house with the tea, and Dietlinde pauses while she pours. "On the ground they found him. The Lord only knows what really happened; but given the dirt I found in the wound, I would say he fell and cracked his skull."
"Trude, go back inside, and mind your brother." Dietlinde watches the girl go back in the cottage, and lowers her voice, shaking her head. "He probably fell on a sharp rock; bits of the bone and dirt were pressed into his brains. I was surprised he survived as long as he did." She glances at Horst. "I'm sorry, sir for the gruesome details. It was not a clean death, and I would spare you more details of your kinsman's suffering.
Horst sighs, "The truth is always better than wondering, mistress Dietlinde. I could wish his death had been peaceful and painless, but i would have rather that he hadn't died at all. Unfortunately, both wishes are only that, wishes. Reality prevails on us all."
He rubs his face with his right hand before continuing, "I do find it strange that Sigmund would have simly fallen off his pony and hit his head on a rock, though. For you see, he seldom rode at all; the pony was more of a pack animal than a mount. Did you detect any other injury on him? Bruises or cuts that might indicate a struggle?"
((I actually have no idea if Sigmund rode the pony or not. If you tell me that he did ride, I can edit this post and change my line of inquiry.))