Sigefrith returns with a friend

The fireside tale Sigefrith was telling to Caedwulf and young Malcolm was interrupted by a guard who came to whisper into his ear.

“My Lord Hingwar’s son Sigefrith is asking to see Your Majesty in the stables. He asked that none be told but Your Majesty.”

“Him!” Sigefrith gasped. “What’s this about?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

“Is he alone?”

“He was.”

“Well, boys, you must excuse me for a moment,” Sigefrith said.

“Will you come back, Papa?” Caedwulf asked with a frown of concern.

“You already know how the story ends, runt. But I shall tell you the rest if I am back before too long.”

The boy here! Sigefrith hurried out to the stables. It was a strange homecoming – the likely explanation was that he had come home alone, and feared meeting his father if he arrived at the castle unannounced. Or perhaps both had returned, and Leofric hid, fearing a meeting with Eadgith.

He found young Sigefrith pacing anxiously before the stable doors. Lit from behind by torchlight, he looked almost like a man.

Sigefrith went forward and embraced him before the boy could say a word. “I’m glad to see you home intact, runt.”

“How is my mother?”

“She is sick with worry for you, but well.”

“Where is my father?”

“He is still out looking for you, as far as we know. He should be in Denmark by now.”

The boy lifted an eyebrow in scornful surprise.

“Where were you, you little scapegrace? We thought you had gone back to Haakon, and didn’t know what to think when we learned you hadn’t. And wouldn’t you know Haakon’s looking for you, too? And care to guess why?”

“We can speak of that later. Now there is someone who would like to see you.”

“Who?” Sigefrith thought of Leofric again, but it must not have been his father after all, since the boy had asked about him.

“I mustn’t say. Come with me,” his godson said, taking a torch.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Sigefrith chuckled.

“F-​​forgive me,” the boy stuttered. “Your Majesty. I’ve been away…”

“Come on, runt. Take me to your mysterious friend.”

He followed young Sigefrith out through the gate and into the woods beyond the hill.

“Is this some kind of trap, boy?” Sigefrith asked. “I didn’t bring my sword.”

“I have mine.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

A short distance into the woods they came across a tall, dark horse with an ugly face – and hesitating before him, a tall, dark-​​haired man with an ugly nose.

There was something about that walk… it was only lacking a kilt to be quite recognizable. “Magog!” Sigefrith cried joyfully, throwing his arms wide.

Malcolm rushed forward to embrace him. “My brother still!”

“Thought I’d forgotten you?” Sigefrith laughed. “I saw Gog not long ago – said you were out making war. Too busy to come visit your poor housebound brother?”

“Busy indeed.”

“But what’s the meaning of this?” Sigefrith asked, waving his hand at the dark forest surrounding them. “Gog likes to come roaring unannounced into my hall like a raider, and you like to come sneaking into the valley like a thief?”

“I should no like anyone to know I’m here,” Malcolm said, his face growing dark.

“Anyone meaning who? We’re your friends here, Magog. Wouldn’t you like to come and see my family? It’s been so long, you won’t recognize any of them.”

Malcolm was shaking his head.

“You should see how Caedwulf has grown – and Colban! Damn! He was only a baby when you saw him last! And Emmie wasn’t even born. Maud isn’t here just now, but I’m certain she will be sorry to know she missed – ”

“She isn’t? Where is she?”

“She’s up at the abbey for the month. She got it into her head that she needed to keep silent for a month as penance for some little sin, and she must have thought she couldn’t bear to sit across from me for a month and never once tell me to chew with my mouth closed,” he laughed.

Malcolm shook his head again, as if he meant to shake an idea out of it. “Please – no. I ask my brother this favor. Tell no one you have seen me. Not your family, not mine.”

“Not even Egelric?”

“Not Egelric. Not Colban. Not young Malcolm. Not Her Majesty. No one.”

“But Magog…” Sigefrith said, growing concerned. “One would say you’re on the run. Are you in trouble?”

“No trouble. I merely wish to pass through as if I had never been.”

Sigefrith frowned. “I would help you in any way I can, you know. I owe you my life.”

“Then it will suffice to tell no one you have seen me.”

“Very well. I shall tell no one. Now why don’t you tell me how you come to be bringing this wayward runt home with you?”

“That’s a long tale that will be his pleasure to tell,” Malcolm said, brightening. “On his way to the sea, he got caught in the fighting, and was swept up by a pack of Scots. And since he does no speak a word of Gaelic, and they could no comprehend your barbarian language, the ass had the clever idea to speak Norse to them.”

Young Sigefrith giggled in embarrassment.

“There’s no better way to say ‘I love you’ to a red Scot than to try to make friends with him in Norse,” Malcolm said, punching the boy in the shoulder. “Five years older and he would have died that day. But they thought the little cub too cunning and adopted him. And quite adorable he was, when I came across him – his black head in a sea of red, with his great sword far too big for him, but swinging it with both hands, just like a Norseman. The lad can fight like the devil.”

“But what did you intend to do, runt?” Sigefrith asked the boy.

“Get to the sea. I did mean to go back to Haakon, but I liked the Scots just as well,” he said, grinning up at Malcolm.

“Better, I hope! We taught the cub how to roar. My men and I met up with him at the sea – wondered what was that puny dark creature in with all the flame-​​headed giants that are the sons of Congalach. And after the fight, when it told me its name, I said, ‘Sigefrith! I know a man named Sigefrith. Looks a bit like you, too.’”

“And I said, ‘Is that my cousin, Lord Hwala?’” the boy supplied.

“And I said, ‘The devil it is!’” Malcolm laughed. “And I said, ‘My brother’s cousin is my cousin,’ and so thereafter he went with my men.”

“And meanwhile your mother was crying her eyes out over you,” Sigefrith said, shaking his head – but he believed he would have done the same at that age. He was at times tempted to do the same even now.

“That’s why I brought him home to you, brother,” Malcolm said. “Once I heard his story, I told him I should take him home after the fighting was done. And because he loves me and loves his mother, he came. But I believe his father is nearly as bad a scoundrel as I. It must be a fine thing to have a son like this,” he said, hooking an arm around young Sigefrith’s neck.

“Why don’t you have a few then?” the King asked.

“I shall, someday,” Malcolm said, suddenly releasing the boy.

“Then I suggest you go home and pay your wife a small visit,” Sigefrith winked.

“There is still war to make, somewhere out there,” Malcolm said.

“There always will be.”

“Then I shall never be idle. I should go back now. I only wanted to see my brother. War is an uncertain trade. We may never meet again.”

“I hope we shall,” young Sigefrith said.

“Come to me when you are a man,” Malcolm said gravely.

“Just a moment, you two,” Sigefrith said. “Before we enter into a touching farewell, I may need to ask a favor of you, Magog, and meanwhile hand the boy’s future to him on a platter, already trussed, tied, and roasted.”

The two looked at him, surprised. Sigefrith laughed to see their faces.

“Boy,” he said, “Didn’t I tell you Haakon Tryggvason was looking for you?”

“Yes, I believe so. Did my father go to him?”

“That’s how I know about it. Listen, boy, didn’t you have word from Haakon or your father at all?”

“No, I’ve been with the Scots,” he said, smiling up at Malcolm.

Sigefrith shook his head. “Damn! Then it is to be my pleasure to inform you that you are shortly to be a father, young man, and you had best hie you to Haakon if your mangy hide is worth anything to you. And I can tell you that it is worth at least three half-​​marks of silver to me.”

Malcolm threw back his head and laughed. “The devil! Your wee Hilda, is it?”

“She’s expecting to be confined by the first Sunday of Advent. I believe you know what you must do now. She’s no kitchen maid, boy, to be loved and left behind. If you had a father, you would have known the difference.”

“I must go to her!” his godson gasped.

“Precisely.”

“What does Haakon mean to do to me?”

“Marry you to her, naturally.”

“He will kill me, more naturally!”

“That would be a poor way to treat one’s son-​​in-​​law.”

Malcolm laughed again. “The devil! I was thinking what the lad needed was a father, and here he means to be one!”

“I didn’t know,” the boy pleaded.

“Then you certainly have needed a father,” Sigefrith laughed.

“I mean I know how,” he said, flushing.

“Magog, I must get the boy to Haakon before Advent.”

“I can take him to the coast,” Malcolm offered.

“I was hoping you would say that. Won’t you come back to the castle, then?”

“Ach, no.”

“Magog! I can’t let you take the boy without even allowing him to see his poor mother.”

“I shall wait here.”

“What kind of trouble is he in, runt?” he asked Sigefrith.

“I don’t know,” the boy said. “He doesn’t want it known he has come west, perhaps.”

“Don’t want your wife to find out you’ve come this far and no farther, eh Magog?”

Malcolm folded his arms and stared at him.

“All right, all right. Your cousin Egelric has taught me just how stubborn and just how silent a Scot may be.”

“Won’t you come meet my mother and my sister?” young Sigefrith asked Malcolm.

“Another time, perhaps,” he said curtly.

“Let him be, runt. He’s a wildcat that doesn’t like the fireside and the four walls. Magog, won’t you let him have a few days with his mother? He will be a man grown when next she sees him.”

Malcolm scratched his head impatiently. “I meant to leave tonight.”

“Can you not let him stay until Sunday? He has that much time.”

“I can no come home with you, brother,” Malcolm warned. “I shall sleep in the hills. What is the day?”

“Wednesday.”

“In four nights you shall find me here. Do no look for me before that time.”

“I wish you would allow me to help you, Malcolm,” Sigefrith said sadly.

“I need no help, brother. Only tell no one.”

“Very well.”

Malcolm began to turn away, as if he meant to go back to his horse, but he only stood staring at it. “And kiss your children for me, my brother, but do no tell them why.”

“Certainly.”

He hesitated a moment longer and then turned back to Sigefrith. “How are they?” he asked softly.

“Very well! All very well.”

“Your son Colban? He was ill when last I saw him.”

“Oh, that cub!” Sigefrith beamed. “He’s the least ill little boy I know, unless being possessed by the devil himself is an illness. If he hasn’t managed to pluck the sun from the sky for his own plaything by the time he is a man, I shall be greatly surprised. And remember, Malcolm, that you shall be the one to teach him how to use a sword!”

“I remember.”

“It may be just as well that my little Hercules won’t be living in a castle after the age of five. I fear he might pull the stones down around us in one of his fits of temper. I wish you luck with him!”

“I must go before the moon is high,” Malcolm said abruptly.

“You will come and see us another time?”

“Another time, perhaps. If you warn Colban before you pay us a visit at home, you may find me there.”

“Your wife will thank me,” Sigefrith said, winking again.

“Good night, little brother,” Malcolm said, embracing young Sigefrith. “I shall see you in four days’ time.” He turned to embrace the King. “Farewell, my brother,” he whispered. “Let him come to me alone on Sunday.”

“You say farewell as if you meant it, brother,” Sigefrith said. “I believe that we shall meet again. Remember! I need you to teach my boy how to swing a sword, and I don’t know of a Scot whom I would trust to do it better.”

“I remember.” He began to walk back to his horse.

“Need a torch?” Sigefrith asked.

“Cats, the devil, and I see in the dark,” Malcolm said. “The peace of God on you, my brothers.”

“And you!” Sigefrith called as he and the boy turned back towards the castle. “Damn!” he said. “Why do I wonder whether I shall ever see him again? What’s the matter now, runt?”

“He called me brother.”

“Well then! The cousin of his brother is his brother. But I think what that man needs is a son, and yet he won’t go home to his wife to make any – and you need a father, and instead you’re the one out there making sons. What a confused couple of rascals you two are,” he sighed. “Come on back to your mother, boy. At least we know where she stands.”