Egelric wakes

Egelric sat up with a start, leaning on an elbow. What the devil was that? An echo of thunder still rang in the stone walls.

Where the hell was he? Had he hit his head? It ached—it was throbbing. Had that been what he heard?

Ach, no! He fell back on the pillows with a groan. He was at Nothelm. And he had drunk far, far too much. The devil only knew what he had heard. A dream perhaps.

Something about… something about Sigefrith. He and Alred had sat up half the night. That baby.

In the end they had decided nothing. But he had learned a lot about Sigefrith. Sigefrith was an unhappy man, too, he thought. Just like him. The only difference was that Sigefrith didn’t know it. Yet.

Damn the women! All except Baby. Though he supposed she would break his heart, too, some day.

Egelric sighed and licked his dry lips and decided to go back to sleep. It was still dark outside. God, let the night last. He didn’t want to face the day. It would be complicated.

Except now someone was calling him.

“Egelric!”

Urgently.

It was Alred.

“Your Grace, I—what?” he mumbled.

“Egelric, you need to come.” Urgently, his voice low. “It’s Baby. She’s not well.”

He was up at once, following Alred through a maze of corridors—he never could have found his way alone. His head was splitting. Baby was not well, and Alred wouldn’t say how.

“Come, just come,” was all he would say.

Egelric pushed past Matilda when they reached Gwynn’s room and looked down at the bed. Was she even breathing? He thought his heart had not beat once from the moment Alred woke him until the moment he saw Iylaine’s chest rise and fall.

He bent over her and gently tried to wake her. And then he shook her less gently. But she would not wake.

“We can’t wake her,” Matilda said in a voice that was high and thin with fright.

“She’s burning up!” Egelric whispered harshly.

“We can’t wake her,” Matilda repeated.

Egelric took her small hand in his—it was dry and hot, and when he let go of it, it fell limply like a dead animal.

“We found her in the great hall,” Alred was explaining. “We heard a loud noise, and Matilda wanted to go check on the children, but Baby wasn’t in her bed. We found her in the hall. Sitting—or slumped over—by the fire. I don’t know what happened. The fire was out—the whole log had burned into ash in just a few hours—I’ve never seen anything like it. But the room was stifling hot, and Baby more so. I don’t know, Egelric—perhaps the fire was too hot for her.”

“Why must you always sit so close to the fire?” Egelric moaned. But Iylaine did not hear.

“I’ve been bathing her face with water,” Matilda said. “Perhaps you would like to continue?”

Egelric was trying to think. Why, why hadn’t he spoken to Gunnilda? He was such a coward! And now! She could have told him whether Iylaine had been feeling well. He didn’t even know whether she had eaten a proper supper! He had been in such a hurry to get out of there—and in such a hurry to talk with Alred that he had scarcely paid her any attention after they had arrived, giving her over to Matilda almost immediately.

“Egelric?”

Gunnilda! What was he doing here without her? She was all the mother the girl had. She was more hers than his—Iylaine spent the whole day with Gunnilda, and only the evenings with him, and the nights when they slept. And he had spent almost a month away from her, and left her with Gunnilda, and come back and stolen her away again as if he had any right to see her!

“Egelric, shall we send for Mother Duna?” Alred was asking him.

“Send for Gunnilda,” Egelric said.