Egelric looks for Malcolm

Egelric had been to the stables, the kitchens, and the smithy, but there was no sign of Malcolm. And they told him that Colban had gone out looking for him as well.

The only thing Egelric knew was that he was not with the Queen—he had seen Maud in the hall with Sigefrith and her older children. He had scarcely had the courage to look at her.

He had believed the Queen so far above other women—as kind and good as she was beautiful, as was fitting for a Queen. The Scots Queen had impressed him, but he had told himself that his own Queen was more magnificent still. Queen Margaret didn’t love her husband either, it seemed, but she had given up all of her love to God. Maud had given hers to his contemptible cousin.

Egelric had hoped to look at the baby, but he was not in the hall.

He still held out a faint hope that the whole thing was Alred’s imagination, but it all seemed to fit—the baby was the right age and took after neither Sigefrith nor Maud, and did not look unlike Malcolm. Egelric admitted that he was a poor reader of baby faces and hadn’t properly seen the child in a month, but Alred assured him that it was obvious if one looked for it. It seemed that Colban had seen it without even looking for it.

And Egelric knew Malcolm. He simply had not realized that his tastes in women went beyond the easy pleasures of farm daughters and milkmaids. But why shouldn’t they? The women were all the same!

As Egelric went through the market he began to notice how the people were talking in tight groups, formed into small circles with their backs to the world. He had come to recognize that behavior as a bad sign. But it was only natural that they should all be discussing the events of the previous night. Only Egelric had so many other things on his mind that it did not completely occupy his thoughts.

The fissure in the court of the castle had astounded people, but it was the omen in the church that had them talking. The wooden crucifix had fallen from the wall and shattered, and the great stone altar, dating back to Roman times as far as anyone knew, had cracked through the middle.

Now the people were busy coming up with explanations. And he could see by the way they looked at him what some of them were thinking. There could not be a woman lost a baby or a barn burned without someone remembering that his elf daughter had recently spoken with the woman or looked at the barn. As if there were an ounce of badness in the girl!

Sigefrith had warned him that the servants at Nothelm had already spread the word about his daughter having fallen ill just around the time that the earth moved and the thunder was heard.

Egelric stalked out of the market, growing furious. Malcolm wasn’t here, and if he stayed any longer he was bound to stir something up. He would just go back to the keep and check on the poor darling and see how Gunnilda was holding up. Malcolm could take care of himself for an hour longer.

But as he came out on the other side of the woods, he spied a black figure seated next to the pond.

No one of that age would be lazing around so late in the morning during harvest season—it had to be Malcolm himself. He fought down his temper, reminding himself that nothing had been proven yet. But he would talk to Malcolm and he would find out.

“Good morning, brother,” Malcolm called to him in Gaelic as he approached. “It’s a fair country you have.”

Egelric grunted as he sat on the grass next to him.

“I would almost like to remain. Be a farmer like my cousin.”

“You don’t belong here,” Egelric said, annoyed.

“Where do I belong?” Malcolm mused.

“You don’t often ask yourself such questions.”

“It’s thoughtful I am today. It must be your influence.”

“Better to think before you act and not after, Malcolm,” Egelric sighed as he stretched out on the grass. He was exhausted—from the travel, from the drink, from the lack of sleep, from the worry about Iylaine. He didn’t need this, too.

“That’s what I’m doing now,” Malcolm replied.

“You should have done before.”

Malcolm looked over at him, suspicious. “It’s talking to Colban you’ve been.”

“I haven’t seen Colban today.”

Malcolm didn’t answer, and so Egelric closed his eyes and wished he could sleep. At best, Malcolm was not himself today. At worst, the worst they had feared was true.

“Doesn’t your king have any wars to fight? I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“You want to go to war with Sigefrith?”

“War is simple. You fight until you die. It’s when the war ends and you aren’t dead that you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

“You go home.” And stay there, he added in his thoughts.

Malcolm was silent long enough after that to make Egelric wonder whether he had not fallen asleep in the meantime when he spoke again. “Do you remember your son?—Finn, was it?”

Egelric sat up.

“Of course I remember my son.” What business had Malcolm asking about Finn?

“Do you think you’ll ever see him again?”

“I hope so.” Oh, he could see where this was going. It was all true. But suddenly he saw it in a different light.

“Do you think about him often?”

“Every day. Now, my lad,” Egelric said, crawling around him to sit facing him, “is there something you want to tell me?”

“Your lad!” Malcolm sniffed. “It’s but five years older than myself you are.”

“You don’t act it.”

“You have been talking to Colban.”

“I tell you I haven’t been.”

“Then I’m in worse trouble than I feared.”

“Why is that?”

“You already know, and it wasn’t Colban that told you.”

“It may make you feel better to know that it was Alred who guessed. I never did.”

“The devil he did! He’ll tell Sigefrith!”

“I don’t think he means to. However, I wouldn’t go near Alred unarmed, if I were you.”

“Aren’t you going to slay me, brother? I thought Colban would.”

“It was very clever of you to ask me about my son. Now I feel sorry for you.”

“I asked you because I thought you would understand.”

“I do. About the boy, anyway. The woman is a different story.”

“What about Gunnilda?”

“What about Gunnilda?” Egelric growled.

“It’s married to your friend she is.”

“Every one of my friends is married, except you—more’s the pity.”

“And you.”

“There is nothing with Gunnilda.”

Malcolm smiled his sharp smile. “No need to deny it to me, brother. I’m in no position to judge. But I do have eyes. I saw the way she looked at you, and the way you didn’t look at her.”

“The difference between you and me is precisely what I don’t do!”

Malcolm sniffed, as if he did not believe but did not care to argue the point.

And that made Egelric more furious than anything he might have said. “On your feet, man! I’ll slay you for that!”

Malcolm rose gracefully, shaking his head. “Not today, brother. I’ll grant you your ‘nothing with Gunnilda.’ It’s your help I’m needing.”

“My help?”

“If you don’t understand about the woman, you understand about the boy.”

Egelric glared at him.

“The woman belongs to Sigefrith, and I don’t know what to do about that, but the boy is mine.”

“I find it difficult to believe that you suddenly take an interest in your bastards.”

“This one is different.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It may be similar to the rule that there are two kind of women: the kind you marry, and the kind you don’t. In fact it may be a consequence of the rule. She’s the kind you marry, therefore her child—”

“Are you mad? The woman is an adulteress! She had no business marrying anyone!”

“You will not speak of her in that way to me! She came to me because she was meant for me. She never wanted to marry Sigefrith—he bought her from her uncle! Did you know that? The abbot? Did you ever wonder why Sigefrith sends him twice his tithes?”

“I know nothing of that, and I will not believe it.”

“As you will. But listen, brother, about the boy—It is only for a few minutes that I held him, and Colban tells me I may never see him again. I can’t do that! Could you? Will you—you!—tell me that I shall forget him and live happily without him?”

“I can’t believe you dare use my son against me—”

“I do not, brother—listen,” he pleaded. “If you had said that you forgot about your son, that you don’t think about your son, then perhaps I would have quietly gone home and prepared myself to forget about mine. But you didn’t! It’s every day you are thinking about him! Would you make me suffer as you do?”

“It’s two times the scoundrel you are,” Colban growled, having come upon them as silently as a cat, “to wield this man’s pain against him, that he help you with whatever disgraceful scheme you are plotting.”

Turning to Egelric, he said, “I had thought to tell you myself, cousin. It’s surprised I am that he admitted it to you.”

“Alred had already guessed.”

“He had? This is bad. We are out of time.”

“He doesn’t intend to speak to Sigefrith.”

“Until when? The child will look more like its father every day. It’s lucky you’ll be if Sigefrith doesn’t assume it’s you.”

“I believe Alred thinks the child might die first. It isn’t strong.”

“No!” Malcolm cried.

“Shut up, you!” Colban thundered. “Better it had never been born! You’ll not be getting sentimental over one of your bastards now, when it’s dishonor you’ve brought on your house with it!”

Malcolm stalked off and turned an angry back to them.

“Where’s your Duke this morning?” Colban asked Egelric.

“He’s at home. I was about to go there to see my daughter—she’s very ill.”

“Then we come with you. Alred has no loyalty to us—I need to know what he plans to do.”