Gunnilda learns her lesson

“Well, Aelfie, how was them babies?” Alwy asked as he and Gunnilda came into the kitchen.

“Just sweet as sweet, though I couldn’t get Bedwig to keep his pajamas on him. He’s covered up real warm though.”

Gunnilda stood silently and watched them chattering at each other, and what they said was as incomprehensible to her as if they had been a pair of gossiping blackbirds.

This was not real. Nothing was real, because the very foundation of her world had been yanked away, and anything that could endure beyond that cataclysm was clearly a dream.

Gunnilda waddled over to the fire and sat in the chair that Aelfie had just left. The fire was warm. The fire almost seemed real. But of course, it was part of the dream.

“Gunnie?”

“Oh, Alwy,” she murmured. “Don’t forget to ask Aelfie what they ate for supper.”

“But Aelfie already left, Gunnie. She already left, and I already been back to check on the babies. They’re sleeping. Are you sick, Gunnie?”

There he was again, asking her if she was sick. Sick! “I’m not sick, Alwy.” Which should she use tonight? Tired? Or headache? “I guess I’m just real tired.”

“Well, I don’t know but I guess maybe that dinner was too much excitement for you. I guess we should just go back to bed.”

“But I’m not tired.”

Alwy blinked at her. “But you just said you was tired.”

“I’m not that kind of tired. I’m not sleeping tired, I’m just tired. I just want to sit a while.”

“Well, all right, Gunnie. I guess I’ll just get me a chair and we can sit a while.”

“But I don’t want to sit with anyone, Alwy,” she said, her voice trembling with annoyance. “I just want to sit alone a while. May I?” If he didn’t leave her alone, she thought she would scream. Why couldn’t he see that? Why must he put himself in the way so that she would be obliged to hurt him?

“Well, all right, Gunnie,” he said softly, his downcast eyes hidden behind his wild hair. “I guess I’ll just go to bed.”

“Good night, Alwy,” she said, fighting to keep her voice calm and steady.

“Good night,” he said, shuffling away. He didn’t even try to kiss her.

Gunnilda leaned back in her chair and sighed in relief. She could be alone. She would not have to smile for anyone.

She reached back and uncoiled her hair and then massaged her throbbing head with her fingers. That too was a relief. The pain in her head was real. The pain in her chest was more real than anything.

Now she would have to think.

She had to believe the Duchess. People did talk about Prince Colban. She had never seen him close, but surely the Duchess would never have dared to say such a thing if it were not true. She would certainly never have claimed that Egelric had told her about it if he hadn’t.

And he had told her that he still loved the Queen terribly!

Gunnilda gasped as a sob nearly broke from her throat.

She knew well when Prince Colban was born, for he had been born on the very same day as Bedwig. And she knew how to count. So what did that mean? Egelric had loved the Queen at least since… at least since he had come home from Scotland two years ago after going to visit with his cousins. She remembered now how cold had been the reception when she had gone to meet him with Baby and Bertie.

And only a few months before, the night he left, she had run to him in the pouring rain, and he had scolded her and laughed at her, and then he had held her for a long while and let her cry. What had he thought then? He had seemed so…

Or was that what he had meant by “allowances” when she had come seeking the same the following year, and he had chased her away?

This time the sob escaped her.

No, it was clear now when she thought back through the last two years that there had been little enough on his part on which she could hang any hope of – anything. She had told herself she would be content to merely have him in her life, to see him sometimes, and to–

But that was because she had thought he had told himself the same thing.

What a fool she had been! She had explained his distance as discretion. Discretion! He obviously had no scruples about loving another man’s wife. And that in itself was proof that he had never loved her.

No doubt it had all been a game to him. She remembered what he had been! Perhaps he had intended to complete his collection of sisters. It was a wonder he hadn’t tried. She thought he had changed; she thought he had grown out of and away from that wild and heartless young man he had been–

But he wasn’t heartless, for he said he loved the Queen terribly.

Gunnilda clenched her fists and clenched her teeth. She must not make a sound, or Alwy would surely be frightened. “Are you sick, Gunnie? Are you sick?” he would ask. And she would say cruel things to him, because she wanted to hurt someone right now, and that someone was still drinking and laughing over at the keep, perhaps standing only a few feet from his beloved – and lacking him, she had no doubt she would hurt anyone who came near her, like a wounded animal.

And it wasn’t fair. She breathed heavily, and the flame-​​eaten log collapsed, and the fire burned low. Alwy was a good man. It wasn’t fair she didn’t love him. She might have grown to, over time and left alone. But she had been a fool for Egelric. Oh, Egelric knew what to do and say to a woman! She remembered what he had been! And yet she had been a fool, and trusted him, and believed him.

No more. It had been a hard lesson, but it was learnt. And Alwy was a good man. The Duchess had been right when she had said that Alwy could be trusted. He was not quick or clever, but he was steady. He would never hurt her. And the Duchess had been right when she had said she was lucky.

She would go into the bedroom, and she would lie down with him and let him wrap his arms around her, and she would apologize to him for snapping at him, and then she would love him. Or she would love nobody.

Gunnilda rose and went to the table, where the lamp still burned. She bent down and blew it out, and then she sat in the dim blue starlight and watched until the smoke had faded into the air, and for a long while afterwards.