Egelric meets two strangers

Egelric shook his head as he stepped onto the road. He hadn’t planned on Baby and Gunnilda working together against him. But he had promised – and so had she. Well, he told himself, even if she were wrong, he would at least have the satisfaction of being right.

But he slowed his pace as he approached the crossroads. Two men were turning towards Nothelm and towards him, walking slowly, one of them leaning on the other. And what he did not like was the priest’s robe on the taller man. This was not Father Brandt, and no other priest had any business in Lothere as far as he was concerned. This could only mean trouble. He would stop them and talk to them before they made it to Nothelm, if that was where they were heading. They wouldn’t find Matilda if he could help it.

“Good morning, Father,” Egelric said politely, but he ran a wary eye over the couple in the pale light of the November dawn. The limping man was only a scruffy peasant, but the priest had a haughty and dangerous look beneath the shadow of his cowl. “Your companion is ill, I see?”

“That’s right, Goodman,” the priest nodded. “I am taking him to the castle I see yonder. Perchance the lady of the keep may be able to help my small friend, here.”

The peasant snorted.

Egelric was alarmed. Had Morcar spoken? Had he told where Matilda was hiding? “That doesn’t seem necessary, Father. We can bring him to this house behind us. The Goodwife is a capable woman. I am sure she will know what to do.” He glanced at the peasant. “What is his trouble?”

“Well, let me see,” the priest said thoughtfully. “There are so many things wrong with him, I scarcely know where to start. To begin with he was born runt of the litter, then he got a rotting of the brain, a plague of the ear, lice of the tongue – ”

“A pox on you!” the peasant cried. “Rot-​​brain indeed!”

The priest only laughed at this impertinence. Egelric was aghast.

“Egelric!” the peasant laughed. “Don’t you know me?”

Egelric peered at the stranger’s face, pallid beneath the grime. The shaggy hair, the shaggy beard… He thought he knew all of the peasants in Lothere and a good number in Thorhold as well, but this was–

“Your Grace!”

“Your humble servant!” Alred laughed.

Egelric reached out impulsively to touch him, but just then he understood who the priest was.

Egelric dropped to his knees. “Your Majesty!”

“On your feet, Goodman,” the King laughed. “First you shall greet your lord.”

Egelric stood and turned back to Alred.

“You’re alive!” he cried. His hands danced between them, as if they would touch the man to be sure he was truly there, and yet did not dare.

Finally Alred solved the dilemna by throwing his arms around him and embracing him. Egelric was shocked at how thin the man felt beneath the heavy tunic.

“What a gift it is to meet you first, old friend!” Alred said. “Now tell me – how are my wife and my sons?”

“They’re well. Very well!” Egelric babbled. “His young lordship has learned so much this summer, and grown so tall, and – ”

“Excellent! And your family, Egelric? Why, you must be a father by now!”

Egelric froze in mid-​​laugh, and the black pall fell over him again. “Her Grace will tell you of that,” he said softly.

“Oh, Egelric…” Alred began, but suddenly his eyelids drifted shut and he swayed on his feet.

“He’s truly ill!” Egelric said to Sigefrith.

“That’s right, Egelric. We need to get him home. We can talk later.”

“Go on, Sigefrith,” Alred said. “Go home to Maud. Egelric will help me home.”

“Sure?”

“Go on,” he smiled as he regained his balance. “You’ve had enough of my company by now.”

“Egelric,” Sigefrith said. “My family…?”

“They are well. Everyone is well here.”

“Everyone but you, friend?” Alred said softly.

Egelric gave him a pained look. “Her Grace will tell you,” he whispered.