Theobald receives a letter

“Hello, girls!” Githa called brightly as she came into the hall.

The two girls dropped their dolls and shrank away, staring up at Githa with wide eyes.

Poor girls! she thought. They had lost everyone they knew except for their mother’s parents, for she and Theobald had moved into the valley while they were still babies. They were polite and well-​behaved, but they only cared for each other.

They almost seemed frightened of her and her family—Theobald thought that Ethelmer must have told them dreadful stories about him, but Githa believed that they were only frightened girls who had lost their family. They were still young; surely they would come to trust and love her over time.

“Theobald, I have another letter for you,” she said to her husband, who sat at a table in the corner, staring morosely at a letter spread open before him.

“From whom?”

“It’s from the King—here’s his seal.”

“Which king?” he scowled.

“Theobald! We only have one.”

“Do we? Let’s have it. Who brought it?”

“Just a servant. I let him go—he wanted to visit his family in the village.”

“Did he look like he was bringing bad news?” he asked as he broke the seal.

“No, he looked fine. Would you like me to leave you alone to read?”

He only grunted as he began to read, and so she decided to take that as a no.

Sigefrith had a flamboyant hand, she thought, with boldly sweeping strokes that snapped like whips. Her husband’s characters were tight and crouching and went marching across the page like ants. It was a mystery to her how such different forms could represent the same words, and be readable to anyone who knew the secret. It seemed to her that it should be necessary to learn to read all over again whenever confronted with another man’s handwriting.

“What is it, dear?” she asked in alarm: Theobald’s hands had suddenly begun to tremble.

“No—no—no,” he whispered.

“What is it, Theobald? Has someone died?”

Theobald stood so abruptly that he knocked his chair over. He had only read the first half of the letter, but he let it fall from his hands. He turned to his wife and stared at her, open-​mouthed and wide-​eyed, for a few moments, as if he scarcely recognized her.

“Theobald! Our friends?” She wondered whether it would be wise to shake him. Or slap him.

He shook his head slowly, and then he pushed past her and fled out of the hall.

Affrais and Angharat looked up at Githa with frightened eyes.

“I believe your uncle has had some bad news about some of our friends, girls,” she said, trying to sound unafraid. “We needn’t worry.”