Sigefrith hears a cough

“Papa, can you tell me about when you went to Wales again?” Prince Caedwulf asked, coming to stand between his father’s knees.

“That’s your favorite story now, runt,” Sigefrith sighed, mussing up the boy’s black hair. “I should think you know it by heart, by now. You can be my memory when I’m old, and you can tell the story to me.”

“All right. Can you?”

“Not tonight, runt. Papa is so tired.”

“You’re always tired.”

“Being a King is hard work. You will be tired, too, when you’re as old as I am now, and you’re the King.”

Caedwulf popped a finger in his mouth and started off to wander back to his mother.

“Finger out of the mouth, boy,” his father warned.

“I forgot.” Caedwulf took his finger out and wiped it in his hair before going on to his mother.

Sigefrith pressed his hands against his hot cheeks and sighed. He was so tired. And Leofric and Leila had ridden over to Nothelm, so he was alone.

Well – he wasn’t alone. Maud sat behind him with Caedwulf and Britamund, and young Malcolm sat reading on the King’s throne, idly kicking his feet against its legs.

Sigefrith had asked Alred to get Malcolm started on French. A Scot that could speak with the Normans could prove to be a very useful ally… or a very useful spy. There was much natural cunning in the boy, and Sigefrith meant to channel it into something productive rather than allowing it to develop into something that might be turned against him some day.

The trick with a boy like that was showing him that you knew how clever he was so that he would not despise you for not recognizing it. A well-​​timed wink could do a lot, but one had to keep the other eye open and watching him at all times.

Sigefrith turned to take a peek at the boy. Malcolm looked up at him and grinned, but there was pure devilment in his slanted eyes. Sigefrith winked, and Malcolm winked back. So far so good.

Sigefrith turned around again and stretched out his legs before the fire. He missed having someone to talk with at this hour. Maud and the children were here, but he might as well have been alone. If only he could have Cenwulf again!

But Cenwulf sat alone in his castle, where nearly all the rooms were dark and cold. He spent the evenings in his study, and the nights likewise, making a soldier’s camp on the floor. During the day he was out again amongst his people, busier than ever despite the season, but he did not care to go visiting his friends, nor did he gladly welcome visitors.

Sigefrith could learn more about his friend’s condition and activities by visiting Githa Ashdown, for Cenwulf still came to her every morning to spend an hour with his baby son.

Sigefrith sighed. Was there anything else he could think about to give a properly depressing finish to this melancholy evening?

Ah, there was Egelric. They had not found his wife’s body, nor who had taken it, nor why. It did not seem that they would find it now unless someone confessed or actually produced it. There were simply no clues, and Egelric had too many enemies.

No, not enemies, exactly, but there were too many who believed that Egelric was cursed and had the evil eye. Perhaps someone blamed Egelric for a stillborn baby or a burned barn, Sigefrith thought with disgust. He had come to believe in a great number of things that he would never have thought possible ten years before, but this idea of Egelric being cursed was pure nonsense. He only wished Egelric thought so, too.

Sigefrith suddenly realized that he was hearing a cough coming from Maud’s corner, and moreover, now that he thought about it, she had been coughing all evening.

“Are you coughing, Maud?” he asked.

“I suppose the servants brought green wood into the nursery again today,” she said. “I was coughing all morning.”

“Who did?” he asked, rising and walking over to her. “I shall have him punished.”

“I don’t know,” she sniffed. “I don’t pay attention to such things.”

“I don’t want you or the children breathing smoke.”

“Nor do I.”

“Were they coughing, too? I haven’t heard them.”

“I wasn’t, Papa,” Caedwulf said.

“Good boy! You’re never sick. What about you, Brit?”

“I wasn’t. P’raps a little.” She pursed her lips and made a little cough to test.

“That’s not a cough!” Sigefrith said. “That’s a kitten’s purr. Come here and let Papa Lion show you how to roar!” He swept her up and kissed her fat cheeks and round neck until she screamed with laughter. “That’s how the lions say!”

“No they don’t!” Caedwulf protested, gravely offended by this folly of his father’s. “This is how they say: Rrrrrrrarrrrrr!”

They all laughed, but Maud broke off into another cough.

Sigefrith frowned. “I don’t like that, Maud. Were you sitting directly next to the fire?”

“I suppose I was. My chest and throat still hurt from breathing the smoke.”

“Next time get them to take the wood away and build another fire.”

“I shall,” she said, growing annoyed. “I suppose I’m clever enough to do so if I notice it in time. I simply didn’t notice it today.”

“Please try to notice whether the wood in your bedroom is green when you go to bed.”

“I shall. Do you take me for an idiot?”

“No, Maud. It’s my way of saying I care whether or not you have a clean fire.”

“Well, you needn’t.”

“I needn’t care?”

“You needn’t worry about my fire. I shall see to it, not being an idiot.”

“Papa, you smell good,” Britamund interrupted, burying her face in her father’s hair.

“I smell good?” he laughed, surprised.

“Now you have your daughter liking the smell of wine,” Maud snapped. “Proud now?”

“I haven’t had any since dinner,” he said quietly. But what was the use of not drinking if he was to be criticized for it anyway? “What does Papa smell like, Princess?”

“You smell like… wood, and… hair, and… purple!”

“Purple! Heavens! What does purple smell like?”

“Your hair!” she laughed.

“Very clever! Now what do you think tickles smell like?”

“I don’t know!”

“Well, sniff!” he said, and tickled her until she screamed.