Githa brings a letter

“Send her in then!” Cenwulf barked to the man in the door. What was this – keeping Githa waiting? The servants knew that he might be interrupted at any time for her.

“Oh, my lord!” she gasped as she dashed through the door. Her face was flushed and her hands trembled – hands that held a scrap of parchment.

“Come in, my dear Githa,” he said gently. “I’m sorry you were kept waiting.”

“I came as soon as I could get away! I don’t like leaving the babies alone with the nurse in the evening – she’s so old she falls asleep as soon as she sits down.” For Githa, in her great compassion, had taken the blind old ragwoman as a nurse to her children!

“There now, they will manage until you return. Won’t you sit down?”

“I can’t,” she said and then thrust her parchment into his hand. “I have had this. It’s from Theobald’s father. I – I – I told the servant he was away today. I didn’t lie!”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” he soothed. “Thank you, Githa.” He glanced down at the parchment, but the ruddy twilight that came through the window was too dim to allow him to read it.

“I – I looked for Theobald’s name. I couldn’t find it.”

“That’s all right, I’m sure. Thank you, Githa.” He suddenly realized that she was waiting for him to read it and tell her what it said. Well, wouldn’t he in her place? He cleared his throat and walked over to his table. “Let’s see what this says,” he announced.

Theobald’s father’s hand was growing unsteady, and the letter was written on the poor side of the parchment, making for difficult reading. But the Baron got straight to the point: King William in person had chased the King of Scots as far back into Scotland as Abernathy, and there Malcolm had surrendered to the Norman king and sworn an oath to him, even giving up his own son to the English court as hostage and bond of his good faith. Meanwhile Edgar Aetheling had fled, they knew not where.

Githa had been watching his face closely as he puzzled through the awkward script. “Oh, Cenwulf,” she whispered. “It looks bad.”

“It is,” he said simply. “The Scots King has surrendered to William, and the Aetheling has fled.”

She let out her breath in a sorrowful sigh. “No word of our friends?”

“No, Githa,” he said, glancing over the remainder of the letter. The Baron spoke of the countryside being ‘devastated’ – the trees cut down, and the grain in the fields; towns given over to fire and their inhabitants to the sword. Durham had been burned; Sigefrith had been planning to go to Durham. But nothing here about battles. Had William only destroyed the countryside as punishment to the rebels as he advanced into Scotland?

“There are a few words here about your family, Githa. Let me tell you what it says. Theobald’s mother is well, though she doesn’t go out of the house any more. Someone named Ethelmer has had another girl.”

“That’s Theobald’s brother,” she explained in a dull voice. “He has had four girls so far and no boys.”

“Your parents are well, dear, and send their love.”

“Cenwulf,” she interrupted, “doesn’t it say anything about our friends?”

“No, Githa. Your father doesn’t know Theobald is with them, you know. He doesn’t mention battles at all. Perhaps William came with such an army that the Scots knew it was not worth fighting.”

“Then perhaps they are alive?”

“I think it likely,” he said, hoping to reassure at least Githa. “No doubt the messenger will have traveled more quickly than Sigefrith and his band. Perhaps we shall see them soon.”

“Oh, Cenwulf – ” she said, struck by another thought. “When you tell His Grace the Duke, please tell him not to tell Her Grace just yet. Let her have her baby first. This is sad news for her.”

“I am certain he would not tell her,” Cenwulf said grimly. “Have you seen her, Githa?”

“No. Only Colburga has been to see her. Is she very ill?”

Cenwulf sighed. “As she always is.” In truth, Matilda was much worse than she usually was at this time. Her limbs were heavy and swollen – indeed, her face was so swollen that Colburga said one could hardly recognize her. And her heart beat fast and weak all the day. Colburga thought it would be a miracle if either she or the baby survived. Only Alred believed she would pull through. But then, Alred believed that he wasn’t dying himself.

“I – I will leave you that letter,” Githa said, moving for the door. “If you find anything that might give a hint about Theobald and the others…”

“I shall tell you immediately, of course. Good night, dear.”

“Good night. Kiss your wife for me.”

“I shall.” Cenwulf turned back to the letter as the door closed behind her. It had been hard enough to read the old Baron’s scrawl. Now he would have to try to read between the lines.