Matilda found Alred murmuring to himself as he walked the floor with Cynewulf sprawled over his shoulder, limp and heavy-limbed in sleep.
“A poem?” she asked timidly from the doorway.
He stopped and turned to her, and he hesitated a moment before replying. “The beginning of one.”
“Is Cynewulf helping you?”
“Is that all this is?” he asked softly, feigning surprise. “I had thought it was an enormous tick. In that case, Mama may take him. I was waiting for him to fall off on his own.”
“You call him the most dreadful things,” she scolded.
“He likes it,” he said and stretched his arms after Matilda had taken the baby. “He would rather be Papa’s enormous tick than anyone else’s anything else. Were you looking to put him to bed?”
“I had thought he was already in bed. I wondered where you were, in fact.”
Now his surprise seemed genuine. “Did you need me for anything?”
“I wanted to… ask you something.”
“Ask.”
“I was thinking that I should like to pay a visit to Theobald and Githa. Githa won’t be able to come to the wedding, with the baby coming, and I…”
Alred shrugged. “I was thinking that you might like a change of scenery. But I had thought to send you out with Leofric and Sir Leila when they go. Leofric says they’re leaving as soon as Lissa is quite better.”
“No, no… I had much rather see Githa. I’ve seen Leofric and Leila for weeks.”
“Very well,” he said. “I shan’t be able to take you until next week, and of course not until Leof – ”
“I don’t need you to come with me,” she said hastily. “I can go alone. I had thought I could leave tomorrow morning.”
He frowned. “You certainly shall not go alone. All that way, Matilda?”
“I don’t know… Wulsy could take me. Or Egelric.”
“Egelric is busy. And so is Wulsy. Oh… never mind,” he muttered. “Take Wulsy. You will do as you please, as you always have.”
“Thank you,” she said hesitantly.
He looked at the floor, and it hurt her to see the way his mouth drooped into a frown as if it were too much trouble to him now to lift it into his usual wry half-smile.
It didn’t make sense to her. What had happened to him? He didn’t know – he couldn’t know, because he would certainly not laugh and joke with Leofric as he had all through supper if he knew.
Eadgith must not have told – or if she had told Sigefrith, Sigefrith had not told Alred. It was ironic now to think that Alred himself had once decided that it was better not to tell Sigefrith about Maud’s faithlessness.
But Matilda hadn’t done anything like Maud! There was no risk on her side of presenting her husband with a child that wasn’t his. What she had done was nothing – so little – and anyway, she wouldn’t do it again.
A sudden sob surprised her, and she clapped her hand over her mouth.
He looked up at her. “Matilda?” he asked softly, and it hurt her to see the way his eyebrows lifted in a look of compassion that she felt she didn’t deserve.
“Oh, I’m so tired,” she murmured, hoping she could make it seem a yawn.
“Better get to bed then,” he said, and the eyebrows too drooped. “Good night.”
“Good night,” she said.
He stepped closer to her, and for a moment she believed he would kiss her. Instead he leaned in and kissed the top of his son’s head. “I shall see you in the morning,” he said as he turned back into the room. “I have a poem to finish. You might want to do something about that tick before you leave,” he added dryly, and then began his metrical murmuring again.
Chapters
I seriously want to cry for Alred.
To think that Matilda could justify that what she's doing isn't wrong because a baby won't come of it like Maud had done. I miss the way these two were before.