Malcolm looks for the kitchens

Maud rocked Britamund absently and listened to the voices of the servants and other morning sounds ringing up from the kitchens and the court. Lately she awaited the summons to breakfast here in the nursery with her little girl. She slept in Caedwulf’s room, but the first thing Sigefrith did upon arising was visit his son, and so Maud made sure to wake early and go up to Britamund before the King had awoken.

Sigefrith had said nothing about this new arrangement. If he had hoped she was not planning to make it permanent when he left for Scotland, he must have been disappointed upon his return. 

He seemed to think that she would eventually tire of it and come back to him! He would see who had the greater patience. She knew she could wait longer than he could: he was a man. And if he didn’t care – why, then that meant Caedwulf loved her more than he did after all. So why not sleep in her son’s room? At least the little boy was happy to have her.

Maud was startled by the opening of the door. Her first thought was that it would be Sigefrith. Well, she would make him dance! 

It was not Sigefrith, however.

It was a stranger – a Scot if she knew the dress. It had to be one of Egelric Wodehead’s cousins. She had heard that they had come to the castle looking for Sigefrith yesterday.

“I beg your pardon… I was looking for the kitchens?” He smiled.

Maud lifted an eyebrow – slightly: no higher than he deserved. “You were expecting to find the kitchens upstairs?”

He grinned more widely. “I admit, I was exploring.” He stepped closer. “This must be the little Princess – I had heard that she was a beauty.” 

He had a fine face; there was Egelric’s angular nose, but in a more delicate form. And something about the arch of his brows focused one’s attention on his keen black eyes.

Maud smiled coolly. “You are very kind.” Britamund was squirming, so she set her gently on the floor before turning back to the Scot. “And very bold,” she continued, “to walk into the Queen’s private chambers unbidden.”

“You had been told the Scots were otherwise than bold?” he laughed.

“I had heard you were brutal and treacherous,” she replied.

“Ah, but we are gentle with our friends, and only brutal with our enemies. Unfortunately, due to our treachery, one doesn’t know one is an enemy until it is too late.” He winked.

“You are bold indeed. Does the Scots queen allow her subjects to speak to her thus?”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty!” he cried, sinking onto one knee as gracefully as a cat. “Allow me to declare myself your most humble servant.” But the man seemed to be laughing to himself.

“Are you Gog or Magog?” she asked, trying to hide her own smile.

“Magog,” he exclaimed as he rose. “Called Malcolm in your barbarian tongue, or Máel Coluim mac Colbáin in mine. Gog is my cousin, Colbán mac Maíl Coluim. And, aye, when we travel together it does appear that I am my own grandfather.” He laughed again.

This time Maud smiled. “You speak our ‘barbarian tongue’ very well. Your accent is delightful.”

“I am flattered,” he said, bowing his dark head. “I hope that Your Majesty will have many opportunities to enjoy it in the days to come.” From the curve of his cheek, it looked like he was secretly smiling again.

“You will dine with us at the castle perhaps?”

“If Your Majesty is so gracious as to willingly break bread with savages.” He looked up at her then – he was smiling!

“You seem to find me very amusing,” she said.

“Only delightful – as Your Majesty said.”

Maud blushed. “The kitchens are down the stairs, out through the hall, and across the court.”

“I understand,” he grinned, laying a hand lightly on her arm for the briefest moment. “Good day to you, little Princess. And to Your Majesty as well. Perhaps we shall speak again this evening. I hope we shall.”

“Good day… Malcolm,” she said softly as he went out the door. 

Britamund smiled up at her and repeated the funny new name: “Malcolm!”