Egelric and Gunnilda don't have a conversation

Egelric smiled nervously at Gunnilda when she opened the door.

“Oh, Egelric.” She gave the same sort of smile in return and stepped back to let him into the kitchen. The smell of good ham hung in the air, and the thin smoke of a beech fire. It smelled like a home in the way the great hall at Nothelm never did.

He rarely came uninvited to Gunnilda’s any longer, and rarely came even when he was invited. While the Duke was away, he had been needed at the castle; and now that the Duke had returned, and during the many months before he had left, he spent most of his time at the work site near the lake.

Those were his excuses.

His reason was simpler, though he could not communicate it: he was ashamed to face her.

For years he had tried to be worthy of her, but at some point it had suddenly seemed a labor in vain – no, it had not been “some point.” It had been precisely the point at which he had found a woman in his bed and had been too tired to chase her out.

There was no use pretending to be what he was not, and moreover, whether he was worthy of such a woman or no, he would never have this one. It only made him hate the rest of womankind more, but so it was. They were all he had.

“Bertie isn’t with you?” she asked.

“He’s coming in a while. I couldn’t wait – I have to get over to see the King.”

“I see.”

He regretted having spoken so lightly of “seeing the King” – he, a serf’s son! – but it was true that it had become more natural for him to “get over to see the King” than to climb the hill and see Gunnilda and Alwy. It had been years since he had lived in the little wooden house on the other side of the woods. It had been years since he had been the man who liked nothing better in the evening than to walk through the trees to visit them.

“I need to ask a favor of you, Gunnilda.” Oh, it was difficult. But it was for Baby.

“Of course.”

How still and dim she had grown these last months since young Egelric’s death, like a lamp whose wick had burned to a stub. It would have done him good to see her plant her hands on her hips and cry, “None of your nonsense!” or “That’s what!” It would have done him good to see her hair mussed the way it used to be, with a few locks sticking up like a rooster’s tail in the back and waving like flags when she laughed. It would have done him good to see her laugh.

“You’ve heard about Athelis?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” she said softly. “Her poor mother.”

Of course she could easily imagine how the poor mother felt. It made it all the harder for him to ask a favor of her now, though it was for Baby.

“I shall accompany His Grace to Thorhold tomorrow morning, and I should be grateful to you if you would keep Baby for me here until I return the following day.”

“Oh, of course I would. We would be real happy to have her. We hardly see her these days. But why don’t you take her with you? She is about the same age as Athelis, and I thought they were good friends when they saw each other.”

“I don’t want to take her out of the valley.”

“Well, why not?”

“She’s an elf.”

“Does that explain anything? She’s still a little girl. Do you mean to keep her here all her life?”

“I don’t like to take her out now, of all times, when the peasants are half-​​deranged with their worries over the rest of the elves.”

“But that isn’t her fault.”

“They might not make so fine a distinction.”

“Oh, Egelric,” she sighed. “Bertie says she never gets out of the castle these days. Why don’t you just lock her up in the dungeon while you’re at it?”

“Because there’s no dungeon at Nothelm.”

“That’s right,” she snapped. “I did miss your sarcasm.”

“I’m sorry, Gunnilda,” he murmured.

“Never mind. I shouldn’t bother you about her. I’m sure I’ve no right to tell you what I think.”

“You, of all people, most certainly do.”

“Well, then, I have told you. I think you should let the girl get out more. At least let her go out with Bertie or young Malcolm.”

“They’re only boys.”

“Boys they may be, but only a reckless fool would attempt to get to her through them. They’re both armed, and they’re both better trained than any of your peasants.”

“It is precisely the reckless fools that frighten me. All it would take would be a stone to her head, or a… a…”

“Oh, Egelric! What dreadful thoughts you have! No one is going to throw stones at Baby. You can’t leave her locked up all the time because there are reckless fools in the world.”

“Can’t I?”

“That’s not a life.”

“It’s more of a life than death would be.”

“Egelric!” she cried, hiding her face in her hands. “How can you even imagine such things?”

“I certainly did not intend to mention them to you when I came today. I apologize.”

“Oh, never mind. This is a conversation that should never have happened.”

“I agree.”

“Let’s pretend it didn’t. You just bring Baby over here tonight or any time, and we will take real good care of her. You won’t need to worry about her while she’s with us.”

“I shan’t.”

“That’s good.”

“Perhaps I should get along. I have quite a few things to do this afternoon.”

“Can’t you stay?” she asked, but she did not quite sound as if she meant it.

“I’m sorry I can’t.”

Of course she must have heard stories by now. And of course she must believe them, too, for she knew what he had been, and such stories were far more in his character than this ridiculous tale about him and the Queen. The Duchess, who had lived all her life with men and knew what weak and miserable creatures they were, might wink at such goings-​​on, but not a woman such as Gunnilda. In that way, at least, she was Matilda’s superior.

“You kiss Githa for me, if you can. Poor mother,” she sighed, standing in the doorway and waving goodbye.