Sigefrith talks with Maud

Sigefrith stared at the parchment until the ink dried in the nib of his quill. Again.

He had been unable to sleep, and had tossed for so long that he was growing anxious at the idea of wasting the entire night neither sleeping nor working. Finally he had risen, dressed, and crossed the court to climb into his study and write a letter. Thus the night would not be wasted, even if he did not sleep.

But he didn’t even know to whom he was writing.

And Maud was coughing in her bedroom just behind the door.

Sigefrith grabbed his cup and laid a hand on the jug of wine–

No. It wouldn’t make her stop coughing. It might make him stop thinking about it, but then it might not. Lately it hadn’t been enough.

He wondered now whether he had come tonight simply to listen.

She coughed from time to time during the day, but he so rarely saw her… And he knew the coughing should be worse at night. Indeed, he now heard that it was.

He couldn’t go on like this. He would end up drinking himself to death only to get that sound out of his ears.

He rose and knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” Her voice was small and alarmed.

“It’s only Sigefrith,” he called. “May I come in?”

She hesitated a moment. “What do you want?”

“I shan’t touch you. I only want to talk.”

She hesitated again. “Come in.”

She was sitting up in her bed by the time he entered.

Sigefrith couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen her in her nightgown.

“Wait – I shall get up,” she said as he approached the bed.

“I said I wouldn’t touch you,” he sighed.

“You smell like wine.”

“I only want to talk, Maud.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“I heard you coughing.”

“All the way from your bed?”

“From the next room. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Well? Now that you have ensured that I cannot sleep either?”

She wouldn’t make this easy. “Maud, we need to talk about this.”

“About what?” she asked warily. He could see what she was thinking.

“I said I wouldn’t touch you,” he repeated. “That’s not what I mean.”

“What then?”

“Your coughing.”

“What about it?” she scowled.

“You tell me it’s smoke, or the fog, or the rain, or the chill you got crossing the court, or anything else. There’s one word that you won’t say, and that I won’t even allow myself to think, but it’s time we did.”

“What then?”

“Colburga.”

“I’m not sick,” she said warily. “Not like that.”

“I’m happy to hear that. Now, let’s make sure you don’t get sick like that.”

“I shan’t. Happy now? Good night.”

“No. No, I’m not happy. I don’t want you sleeping here any longer.”

Her eyes went wide in alarm.

“I don’t believe you have even set foot in the new bedroom since it was furnished.”

“You said I needn’t.”

“I said you needn’t sleep with me. I didn’t say you needn’t sleep where I tell you to sleep. I want you in that room, Maud. This room is too cold – there’s nothing but open air beneath the floor. The new room has the children’s fire right below it. And you won’t need to cross the open court every evening to go to bed.”

“What about you?”

“I shall sleep here,” he sighed. “If you wish it.”

“I think I should rather not move at all,” she sniffed.

“I am not asking you what you would rather do. We shall trade rooms.”

“Are you certain you aren’t planning to get drunk and ‘forget’ and come stumbling up to bed with me?” she sneered.

He only blinked at her, hurt despite the thick skin he had grown to deflect her barbs.

“Oh, never mind,” she muttered. “I shall do as you ask. You don’t mean tonight, I presume?”

“No. I shall have your things moved tomorrow.”

“Fine. Now, perhaps you will leave me alone and let me sleep, even if you can’t?”

He nodded silently and left, returning to his letter to no one and his wine.