Bertie is called

Bertie chuckled to himself as he read. The book was not particularly funny, but he was thinking of how he would make Dunstan look stupid on the next occasion, for his lord had loaned him the precious book of riddles that none of the boys had ever been allowed to have to himself.

His lord had learned that he had given up his gingerbread doll to Gwynn after Yware had made off with hers, and as a reward for his gallantry, he had the riddle book for the evening.

Now he planned to memorize as many of the riddles as he could, so that the next time his lord asked them a riddle, he would know the answer at once. It would have been easier going if the riddles had not been in Latin, but he would still have a great advantage the next time.

Suddenly he closed the book and sat up, listening.

He almost thought he had heard someone calling his name. Perhaps it was Baby, hiding behind the door and come to bother him. It had sounded like a girl.

He heard it again… it sounded close, but not behind the door. He stood and listened intently.

It sounded like it was coming from the chimney. 

His room stood directly behind the wall of his lord’s new bedroom, and the chimney of their fireplace was beside his bed. He appreciated this greatly, for the heat of their fire radiated into his room as well. He had never been so comfortable in bed as he had this winter.

However, he had also noticed – to his great embarrassment – that he could hear some of the louder sounds coming from the bedroom next to his.

But this evening he was fairly certain that his lord had gone to the King’s castle, and furthermore it sounded like it was his own name that his lady was calling. He would just go see whether she needed anything.

He knocked hesitantly on the door. “My lady?”

“Oh, Bertie!” he heard her wail. “Come in, please. Thank God you heard me. I thought I was up here all alone!”

“Isn’t Your Grace’s maid here?”

“She went down to eat ages ago and I – I – ” She clenched her teeth and sat hunched over her belly.

“My lady?” Bertie asked, beginning to feel that he was not up to the situation.

“Bertie, listen carefully,” she panted. “First, get a fast horse saddled. A big horse, not your pony. Then – then – ” She bent over her stomach again.

Bertie understood. “But it isn’t time yet! Not for weeks!” he protested.

“Yes it is!” she cried. “Listen to me!”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Get them to saddle the horse. Meanwhile send my ladies up to me. Then take the horse and ride to your mother as quickly as you can. Tell her to come – tell her to come – ”

“I shall tell her to come right away!”

“Yes!” she gasped. “And then get back on the horse, and ride to the King’s castle as quickly as you can, and give the horse to Alred, and he shall ride it home.”

“I shall take Bacchus!” Bertie suggested. None of the boys had ever ridden Bacchus alone, but, frightened as he was, he was still able to recognize that this might be his only chance for years.

“Yes, yes, whichever! Will you remember?”

“The saddle, the maids, my mother, my lord.”

“Yes! Now go! Go!”

Bertie went, as quickly as he could.