Gunnilda wonders something

Alwy sat hesitantly on the bed beside his wife, but she scarcely seemed to notice his arrival.

“Well, Gunnie, how are you?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said.

“That’s real good,” he said, relieved. But the more he looked at her, the less he thought she looked fine. Perhaps she wasn’t telling the truth. “Gunnie, are you sure you feel fine?”

“I feel fine.”

“Well, that’s real good. His Grace did ask how you were, and I told him I guessed you were all right, but if I see him again, I’ll tell him you’re fine. That’s better than all right, isn’t it? Gunnie?”

“Were you over to the castle?” she asked. She still did not look at him when she spoke, but it was already something if she was asking questions.

“Well, I guess I was,” he said eagerly, glad to have something to say. “I seen Bertie, too. He says he’ll come see you tonight after supper. And I seen Baby, and she said to give you a kiss.” He leaned over and awkwardly kissed her cheek.

“Did you see Egelric?” she asked with a calm, quiet voice.

“Well, yes…” Alwy said, squirming.

“Did you?” she asked. “I don’t suppose he said to give me a kiss?”

“Well, no…” He could not lie, but he desperately hoped she would not oblige him to tell her the truth. She wasn’t ready.

“I wonder something, Alwy.”

“What?”

“I wonder, did Egelric come when you buried Wick?” Still she did not look at him.

“Well, no…” he said miserably.

“He never came to see him before he died, either. And he never came to see me. Did he?”

“Well, no…”

She closed her eyes, and he saw her swallow.

“Gunnie?”

“That’s all I wondered.”

Alwy stared uneasily at her a while. Still she did not meet his eyes. “Gunnie, you aren’t mad at Egelric, are you?”

“Why should I be? If he doesn’t care to see us, we don’t care to see him.”

“But I guess…” he began.

She did seem angry. It did seem unfair to Egelric. But what would it do to her? On the other hand, if he let her believe something that was untrue, that was like lying to her, in a way. And he couldn’t lie to her.

“Well,” Alwy continued, “I mean, I guess he would have come if he could.”

“Why couldn’t he?” she asked. For the first time, she looked at him.

“Well, I guess he’s real sick, Gunnie. We didn’t want to tell you, ’cause you were sick too, and then…” He trailed off at the sight of her face. She had looked the same when he had suggested they send for Father Brandt for Wick.

“Sick?” she whispered.

“Well, he got real bad after he come home that time. It was after Wick got sick, he got the spots, and then… and now he can’t hardly breathe.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, ’cause you were that sick yourself, and that hurt over Wick, I guess we didn’t want to worry you with that too. Was it wrong, Gunnie?”

It was wrong. He could see on her face that it was wrong. She looked at him as if he had betrayed her.

“I didn’t know it was wrong,” he whimpered. “I thought it was right.”

“If he—Will he?”

“Will he what?”

“Will he die, Alwy?” she snapped. “Will he die?”

“Well, I don’t know, but I guess I don’t know. Mother Duna says maybe, maybe not.”

“And I never once went to him! What must he think of me? Oh!”

“Well, Gunnie, I guess it don’t matter ’cause he doesn’t know when anybody is there anyhow anymore. He just sleeps or he is in his fever, and doesn’t know.”

“But I must see him!”

“He won’t know you, Gunnie.”

“I don’t care,” she said, squirming away from him and sitting up. “I must see him.”

“But are you sure you can walk all that way? He’s over to the castle.” Alwy leapt up and came around to her side of the bed, afraid she would fall if she rose too suddenly.

“I don’t care,” she muttered. “I don’t care.”

“But Gunnie—”

“Take me! Take me to him!” She was crying now.

“I didn’t know it was wrong,” he said. “We didn’t tell him you was sick, and we didn’t tell you he was. ‘Cause you were both sick.”

“Take me!” she wailed.

“All right, all right, Gunnie,” he soothed. “I will.”