Leofric sees what sort of trouble he's in
“I don’t know what it is, runt,” Leofric sighed. “Some bastard must be borrowing my saddle and lengthening my stirrups or something. I never got such backaches before from such short rides.”
Sigefrith turned his head and coughed, “Fifty!”
“What’s that?” Leofric asked suspiciously.
“Just a cough.”
“Better do something about that, runt.”
“I shall.”
“A cough like that is likely to be fatal if it recurs,” his father growled.
“You think?” Sigefrith giggled.
“I still have my ears, you know. Even if I am almost – ” Leofric turned his head and coughed, “Fifty!
“Careful – it’s catching!”
“I’ll catch you, ungrateful runt!”
Sigefrith laughed and leapt for the door, but he was saved by a knock on the other.
Leofric whirled around and groaned, “Son of a serpent! If you’re not under the age of twelve, whoever you are, go to hell!”
The door opened, and Leofric’s steward crept in. “My lord, it’s…”
“Just how old do you think you are?” Leofric cried.
“And how old do you think he is?” Sigefrith added, pointing at his father’s graying head.
Leofric swung his arm back and whacked Sigefrith across the chest without so much as turning his head.
“Beg pardon, my lord,” Anson said, “I’m nearing forty, but I presumed to enter because I am here to tell you that there is a young boy here to see you.”
“A boy? What kind of boy? Know him?”
“No, my lord.”
“He doesn’t… ah… doesn’t look anything like this, does he?” Leofric pointed at his face.
“No…”
“Good news, runt!” Leofric cackled. “That clears both of us.”
“I know two ladies who will be pleased,” Sigefrith smiled.
“So who is this runt, if he’s not from here?” Leofric asked. “If I didn’t sire him or hire him, he had better have a good excuse for presuming to speak to me.”
Anson nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “My lord, he said you wouldn’t know his name, but… but I think you ought to see him. He seems to have come a long way and… I’m not certain he’s truly a boy,” Anson said softly. “Except by the clothes.”
“What is it, then? No – wait,” Leofric chuckled. “Whether it’s a girl or a monkey or a dressed bear, I think I shall like to see it anyway. Show it in here.”
“Right away.” Anson bowed and went out.
“What sort of trouble do you suppose I’m in now, runt?” Sigefrith’s father asked him.
“I don’t know, but I know at least one lady who will not be pleased.”
“Son of a serpent! If it’s truly a boy, I swear I didn’t touch it.”
“And if it’s a girl?”
“I think not, but I’m not swearing I shan’t.”
“And if it’s a monkey?”
“I… told you…”
The door opened. Leofric snorted. Then he chuckled. Then he began to laugh wildly. “You!”
“I!” the creature said proudly.
It was certainly not a monkey, and it was certainly dressed like a boy, with a short tunic and dark hose.
But there was something about it, though Sigefrith could not have said what. The face was losing its childish prettiness but gaining a prettiness of a new sort. It did not have breasts, but there was a hint of something where the breasts would be; nor hips, but something of a curve… and something of a sway when it walked…
But when it stopped and stood, it was all too clear it was a girl, and knew it was a girl, and wanted everyone in the world to know it was a girl besides.
“What do you think, Papa Leofric?” she winked. She spoke with an accent equal to Ogive’s and a cheek surpassing even Trudi’s. “I make a good boy, na?”
Leofric gasped.
“Papa Leofric?” Sigefrith asked, horrified. He thought the girl was twelve or so, which would have made her Cedric’s age… and his father had been in Denmark twelve years ago, and might have visited Flanders… or a Flemish woman…
“Son of a serpent!” the girl laughed.
“That you are!” Leofric agreed. “But don’t be calling me Papa here, runt! Son of a serpent! At least not yet!” he laughed.
“Who is this?” Sigefrith demanded.
“Sigefrith!” his father cried. “Go fetch that runt! And don’t tell him why!” he cackled. “I want to see his face.”
“What runt?”
“Cedric!”
