Colban makes a proposal

Colban stopped just outside the door to the kitchens. There was a light – somebody else was already there. He waited, listening, for he did not want to run across the Queen. But the person did not move or speak, and so he risked a look.

“Oh, Sigefrith!” he said when he saw who it was. The King, still dressed, late as it was, stood holding a cup.

“Why, it’s Gog!” Sigefrith cried joyously. “I just got a little thirsty – you too?”

“I too,” Colban smiled. 

The King seemed to have been more than a little thirsty, but Colban did not particularly mind. He had been hoping to speak with Sigefrith about a delicate subject on the morrow, and it might be easier if they both had a drink or two and got it over with now.

“Well, then, Gog – we’re brothers now if we weren’t before. My boy’s godfather you are – makes us brothers, or – or something.”

“Brothers,” Colban agreed, lifting his cup.

“You ever have another boy, you know whom to ask,” Sigefrith said with a nod.

“I hope I shall have the honor. But I leave you one of my boys already.”

“That’s so! A fine boy! And we shall make a fine man of him, you’ll see!”

Sigefrith was making this easy. “I know it,” Colban said. “But I believe we shall make a fine man of his brother at home.”

“I shall like to compare the two of them ten or twelve years hence,” Sigefrith laughed. “Let them go at one another with swords and see who learned better.”

“Who had the better teacher, you mean,” Colban winked.

“May I call upon Alred then?”

“If I may call upon Malcolm.”

“That’s so, you have Magog! In that case, I insist – Alred will have the training of him.”

“Agreed. But I have another proposal.”

“Let us hear it, brother.”

“Let me have the training of my godson.”

Sigefrith laughed. “What, send you the little prince?”

“Aye.”

“Ah, well…” Sigefrith muttered, staring into his cup. “I’m fond of my boys.”

“And I?”

“You too, of course – I didn’t mean that.”

“Well, brother?”

“I’m not sure his mother will let him go.”

“Is it the women shall have the raising of our lads? Is it the women rule us now?”

“No…” Sigefrith said thoughtfully. “No! They do not! By God, you shall have your godson!”

“My brother!”

“My brother!” Sigefrith repeated. “We shall drink to that!” And he filled their cups again.

Colban nodded, well satisfied. Malcolm had, to his surprise, kept his side of the bargain. Now Colban had fulfilled his. He only hoped Sigefrith would remember his oath in the morning.