“Good morning, Father Brandt!” Gunnilda said, letting the priest into her small house.
“Good morning, young Gunnilda!” Brandt huffed as he came in from the cold. “Good morning, young everyone!” he said to the children gathered behind her.
“Bertie, you go get dressed, scoot! You should have been dressed ages ago. It’s time for you to go – you knew Father Brandt was coming today.”
Bertie dashed back into the bedroom.
“Well, Father,” she said, folding her arms. “Any good gossip for me today? I just never have the time to get around much anymore, except when Githa comes.”
“My dear, would the people tell the old Father their little sins if they knew Gunnilda Hogge was to hear of them after?” he asked, wagging a finger at her.
“Oh, I don’t expect you to come and repeat their confessions,” she laughed. “I would just like to know about the weddings, the new babies – the good things, what!”
“The woman things – I see,” he chuckled. “Well, dear, it will please thee to know that there shall be much marrying and giving in marriage this summer, but I shall not tell thee the names just yet! But I can tell thee that Lazy Oswin’s young Witga has had a baby boy this week past.”
“That’s a fine thing for him, after all them girls!”
“What of thee, young Gunnilda? When the other biddies ask old Father Brandt for the gossip, what shall I tell them of thee?” he teased. “Bertie’s something young for marriage, but will there be no babies in the Hogge house this year?”
“Oh, Father!” she blushed. “That’s a taste of my own medicine. I guess there won’t be any this year. His Grace has been working my poor Alwy so hard on that chapel that he falls asleep before he even knows he’s in the bed.”
“Her Grace the Duchess may be sorry for that, I fear,” he sighed. “She may need to find her a nurse again.”
“Is she real sick again? Bertie! Look at yourself!” she cried as Bertie came back into the room. “You got your tunic on inside-out! You go put it on right, right now!”
“Aw, Ma!” Bertie groaned. “It’ll just be right-side-out again tomorrow!”
Father Brandt roared.
“March!” she ordered, and Bertie stomped back into the bedroom. “Father, I don’t know how you put up with that boy.”
“Young Gunnilda, that is exactly why I put up with the boy!” he laughed. “He’s a fine antidote for his young lordship’s melancholy.”
“That poor boy… what about his mother? Is she sick again?”
“She’s weak and resting now. She went every day to the poor Countess, and now I fear she has exhausted herself,” he said, shaking his head sadly.
“Oh, the Countess,” Gunnilda murmured. “How is she?”
Father Brandt sighed. “Six babes born and four dead. How could she be?”
“Well, I guess I don’t know, Father,” Gunnilda said, her eyes wide with compassion. “All my kids is real strong, by the grace of God.”
“Bless them.”
“Is that better, Ma?” Bertie asked, coming back into the room again.
“That’s better, but now your hair is twice as wild. Never mind – I can never do nothing with it, it’s your Da’s own hair, what as says one thing and does the opposite when you look away. You take him, Father, and see if you can make a respectable man out of him.”
“Oh, I believe we shall make a fine man out of him, but I make thee no promises about his hair.”
Chapters
Bertie is just adorable!