Sigefrith gets the news

“Here you boys are!” a jaunty voice called out from the doorway of the empty building in which Alred was attempting to teach Dunstan a few things about swords.

“Why, Sigefrith!” Alred laughed in surprise. “What, no kilt?”

“They haven’t succeeding in kilting me yet, and they never will. But, by God, I shall be happy to get some real English food in me again. You can’t imagine what they eat and call a wedding feast. Come here and give King Beebee a hug, you runt!” he laughed, picking Dunstan up off the floor.

“I don’t know, old man, you look hale and hearty for all that!” Alred couldn’t believe the difference in his friend’s face after only a month’s absence. Was Maud poisoning him slowly or what? Or had he simply given up the drink for a while?

“Whereas you, my friend, look like the fourth horseman tied your feet to his saddle and dragged you face down through hell and back. What – can’t manage without me? Or without your squire, perhaps?”

“Sigefrith – haven’t you been to the castle? Haven’t you had the news?”

Alred saw a shadow pass over Sigefrith’s face at the word castle. Was it such a prison to him after all?

“I came directly here – or rather to your gate, but they told me you were here. Deciding between a gloomy greeting at Bernwald, a scowl of unwelcome from my wife, or a joke or two from you, the choice seemed obvious. What’s the news?”

“Jupiter, where do I start?” Alred sighed. “Cenwulf’s baby girl is dead, Alfric is terribly ill, and Colburga herself is dying while at the same time expecting another baby for the end of summer. Maud has dismissed the workers who were building your tower room, so almost no work was done there while you were gone. We haven’t had a drop of rain since the end of May. And some fool dropped a boulder worthy of Sisyphus in with his grain, and the millstone was broken, so we’re running low on flour. Now, are you ready for the bad news?”

“Good Lord, Alred. That isn’t all?”

“No, that shall have to serve as the good news.”

“Tell me, then.”

“Last new moon there was another death.”

“What?”

“One of my maids was killed during the night. She was strangled, stripped naked – raped or not, I shall not presume to say – oh, Dunstan, why don’t you run home and tell your Mama that King Beebee has returned?”

Dunstan gladly ran home.

“Damn. I always forget about the boy. He’s so short that he passes under even my nose. But he will be Duke someday; I suppose he had better learn the meaning of things now. So: strangled, stripped naked, her eyes cut out, and deposited on the steps of my chapel. She was, however, killed at the crossroads, as that is where we found her blood and her dress.”

“So the other one is still out there?”

“I don’t know. That’s not all. That morning I thought I would get myself to the spot where we had buried that creature, just to… well, to make sure he was still there. Only he wasn’t. There was only a hole left where we had buried him. And he had been dug up – or had dug himself out – only the night before, because the earth was still damp.”

“Good God,” Sigefrith groaned. “Please tell me that’s all.”

Alred shrugged. “I suppose it is. The people still don’t know about the elf. Thank God we didn’t tell where we had buried him. But now they believe that we didn’t kill the killer after all. They will be glad to see Your Majesty again. They still believe you can work miracles.”

“God help me.”

“I hope He will. Well, old man,” he said, throwing an arm over his friend’s shoulder and managing a joke at the last: “I suppose that’s the last time you ever go off and leave me in charge.”