Sigefrith learns something about himself
Sigefrith threw open the door to the nursery, and Maud sat up with a start.
“What does this mean?” he barked.
“Sigefrith, you’ll wake the baby,” she called out in a harsh whisper.
Maud had been lying on a blanket and pillows spread out on the floor, and she had a few skins to cover herself. Clearly she intended to spend the night here.
“I had them move the cradle into our bedroom,” he said in a low growl. “Why did you put it in here?”
“I don’t want you to wake him with your snoring,” she sniffed.
“My snoring never bothered Caedwulf or Britamund.”
“It bothers me.”
“Stand up when I’m speaking to you. Unless you want me to join you in your little bed?”
Maud stood.
“Why did you move this cradle?” he asked again.
“I told you. The baby needs to sleep.”
“The baby is no longer ill, Maud. I won’t believe it.”
“You may believe it. You aren’t with him at night, you don’t know.”
“You won’t allow me to be with him at night.”
“I want him to sleep.”
“Maud, you coddle the child. He won’t grow up strong if you do.”
“Oh, he’ll grow up strong!” she said with an odd smile.
“It’s rather cold in here for a sick baby,” he said, glancing down at the sleeping boy.
“He’s covered up well.”
This was absurd. He needn’t allow her to argue with him. “Maud, I intend to bring him back into the bedroom with me. That is my final word. You may either sleep here or join me in bed.”
“No!” she hissed. “He stays here with me!”
Oh, he was sick of arguing with her. “Why don’t you just tell the truth, Maud? Just say it.”
She drew back, her eyes wide.
“Just say you don’t want to come to bed with me. Just say you don’t want me to touch you. You make it clear enough without saying it, but I think it would be a relief to me to hear you admit it once.”
“Can you blame me? You come in every night disgusting with your drink! After humiliating me at dinner the way you did tonight! My God, I could smell the wine on your breath before you opened the door!”
Sigefrith stepped back, stung. Was it so bad? “I might not need to spend my evenings drinking if you would deign to spend them with me!” he retorted.
“It’s too late for that tonight! Go to bed, Sigefrith. You reek.”
It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t started drinking like this until she had started pushing him away. It took the fortification of an extra measure of wine to bed a wife who recoiled from one’s every caress.
“I can oblige you to join me, you know,” he threatened.
“I know. You often have.”
He raised his hand to strike her and then he stopped, staring at it, the way his babies had stared when they had discovered they had such a thing as a hand. It seemed he had a hand that could be used to strike a woman. He had not realized he possessed such an appendange.
Maud stood transfixed, watching him, scarce daring to breathe.
She had been disgusted by him, and now she had been frightened by him. And now he disgusted and frightened himself.
“Don’t hit me, Sigefrith,” she whispered. “I believe I’m pregnant.”
He stared at her. “So soon?” he asked, finally.
She nodded.
He did not deserve this. He did not deserve this woman at all. Was there any more wretched creature than a man who would strike his pregnant wife? He hadn’t, but he might have. That was enough.
He turned without another word and left the nursery. He would go to the room with the broken window, where he would see and could hurt no one, and he would lie on the bed where she had slept. And he would take wine, because without it he would not be able to endure this night. But he would see no one—there would be no one to hurt.
