A messenger comes to Gunnilda
“Good evening, Goodwife Hogge!” called a hearty voice from the doorway.
Gunnilda turned and gasped when she recognized the visitor. He was dirty – his beard all grown out – but it was the King himself! The King had returned! And if the King had returned…!
“Y-Y-Your Majesty!” she spluttered, trying to make a graceful curtsey while holding her squirming baby son in her arms. “Bertie, you bow as I taught you!” she said out of the corner of her mouth.
Sigefrith laughed. “Is this the new baby?” he said, tapping the little foot with his finger. “Doesn’t he look like his father!”
Gunnilda held him up proudly for His Majesty to inspect.
“His name’s Egelric, like our friend,” Bertie explained helpfully.
“Bertie, you hush!” she hissed.
“Egelric! I’m glad you mentioned your friend, young Sigebert. It is in his name that I am come this evening – even before I have been home to see my own family. He made me promise this!” he laughed.
Gunnilda felt the blood draining from her face. Why couldn’t Egelric come himself? Had something happened? And yet the King seemed too merry to be bringing bad news.
“Where are you hiding his wee daughter, Goodwife? Her father is using me as a messenger.”
“Oh, Baby! You come in here!” Gunnilda called, and then blushed in embarrassment. No doubt ladies in castles did not call in their children like the pigs.
“What, Gunnie?” Iylaine said as she rushed in. “King Beebee!” she shouted when she saw the King.
“Baby!” Gunnilda cried in horror.
But His Majesty only laughed. “I see you have been talking with my young godson! Never mind, Iylaine, but only you and he have my permission to call me King Beebee. Hear that, Bertie?” he winked.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Bertie said solemnly.
“Now, Iylaine,” Sigefrith said, turning back to the girl. “Your father entrusted me with something he wanted me to give to you… only… now what did I do with it?”
“Ah! Here it is!” he cried, and bent to kiss her on the top of her head. “I knew I had that kiss for you in here somewhere!” he laughed.
Iylaine blinked up at him.
“I know what you’re thinking, Iylaine: ‘That’s all well and good, but where’s my Da?’”
Gunnilda held her breath. Still, it would be a terrible cruelty to announce his death after having been so playful with her.
“So, I also have a message to you from your Da, and it is this: your father has gone into Scotland with his cousins to visit the home of his grandfather. He was in fine shape when I left him – hale and hearty as one of your uncle Alwy’s pigs here. And he shall be home to see you in but a few more weeks, well before the harvest.” He turned to Gunnilda and added, “He also asked me to apologize to you for asking him to keep Iylaine for a few more weeks, but if you ask me I should think it were a privilege.”
“And, Iylaine, a little secret that he didn’t tell me, but which I think I can guess… your Da might just come home with a pretty little dark-haired new Mama for you, what do you think of that?”
Iylaine sat down and smacked her palms on the floor. “No!” she cried.
“Now, Iylaine,” Sigefrith laughed, “Stepmothers aren’t as cruel as people say, you know. Mine was lovely. I’m sure your Da will choose a nice one for you.”
“No!” Iylaine said again, her little face crumpled in anger.
Sigefrith smiled and turned to Gunnilda. “Everywhere we went, his cousins were fighting over who had the prettiest sister – as if bashing one another with fists is a good way to decide such a delicate question – and which one Egelric was going to marry. I doubt he will be able to get away without choosing his favorite, if only to shut them up!”
Gunnilda tried to smile.
“I suppose it would be the least he could do, to marry one of them,” he confided. “His cousins saved our lives twice.” Gunnilda thought she saw a shadow pass over his face just then. “We only lost seven men, Gunnilda,” he said quietly, “but I have another message for you if you will send away the children.”
“Bertie, you take Baby and Wynn out to the barn and see if you can find your Da.”
“I don’t want a new mama!” Iylaine called one last time as she was led out.
“It’s another message Egelric asked me to give you,” Sigefrith said when they were gone.
Gunnilda’s heart began to pound. He had sent a message just for her!
“It’s delicate, Gunnilda. But if there’s one sort of promise you have to keep, it’s the promises you make to a dying man.”
Dying? What was he saying? Was Egelric safe in Scotland or was he not?
“It’s your friend Anlaf: He’s dead. As he lay dying, he had Egelric promise to deliver a message to you, and Egelric passed it to me. I hope you – and Anlaf – don’t mind. He wanted you to know, Gunnilda, that if he had known you when you were young, he would have wanted to marry you. He thought that you were the finest little woman he ever knew.”
“Anlaf did?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“That’s right, Anlaf did. I suppose it was his way of saying he loved you, though it is perhaps crude of me to put the words in his mouth.”
Anlaf? But she had never thought of Anlaf! He was just – Anlaf! And he was dead! Just dead Anlaf! And dead Anlaf had wanted Egelric to tell her this? Gunnilda was growing hysterical – she was afraid she would start to laugh, or scream. She prayed the King would leave her.
“Well!” the King said awkwardly, clearing his throat. “You will excuse me, Goodwife – my duties hereby discharged, I should like to get home to my wife and children.”
“Welcome home, Your Majesty,” she murmured, curtseying again.
“Thank you! You are the first to say so. Goodbye, young Egelric,” he said to the baby. “An honorable name you have! Goodbye, Gunnilda.”
Gunnilda turned to the fire after he had gone and tried to catch her breath, to calm herself. She mustn’t cry – the children or Alwy could be back at any moment. He hadn’t promised her anything, she reminded herself. And he was alive! He was alive! Oh, why wasn’t that enough?
