Iylaine wonders about a prayer
“Da, are you going to stay home tomorrow too?”
“I suppose so, Baby,” Egelric replied without looking up from the fire.
“Then can you take me to the castle tomorrow?”
“I don’t think so, Baby.”
“Well then can you take me for a ride with my pony?”
“I don’t think I shall feel much like riding tomorrow.”
“Well then can you tell me a story now about when you were a boy?”
“Baby, I don’t feel much like telling stories either,” he sighed. “Why don’t you just sit and be quiet a while?”
“How come you don’t feel like visiting or riding or telling stories, Da? I want to know.”
“I suppose it’s because Gunnie is very sick up on her hill,” he murmured, “and I have to sit here by my fire, and I can’t do anything to help her.”
“Why don’t you go help her then?”
“She has Alwy and her children to help her, Baby. They don’t need me up there,” he sighed. “Did you wash your face already?”
“Aye.”
Iylaine leaned on her father’s knees, but he only looked back into the fire. “Da?”
“Aren’t you tired yet?” he asked her.
“No. Why don’t you do something with me?”
“I don’t feel like doing anything, Baby. Perhaps we should simply go to bed.”
“But I’m not tired.”
“Then please go play quietly and leave your poor Da sit.”
She pouted and fidgeted a while, but she did not speak. Nor did she leave Egelric’s knees.
“What is it, girlie?” he asked at last.
“Da, is Gunnie real sick?”
“I suppose she is.”
“Is she going to die?”
“I don’t know. Nobody knows.”
“What if just her baby dies, then maybe she won’t die?”
“Perhaps they both will, Baby. I don’t want to talk about this.”
“But I want to know something.”
“What then?”
“I prayed for Gunnie’s baby to die, but do you think maybe God didn’t understand and now Gunnie is going to die?”
“You did what?” he breathed, and his eyes frightened her.
“I guess I didn’t really mean it,” she whimpered, shrinking away from that terrible look. “I guess I was just mad about my cat.”
He stared at her a moment longer, and then he held his hand to his forehead and moaned, “Oh, God help me! I knew you were a proud and wilful child, as I was, but I thought you were a good and loving little girl!”
“I guess I am a good and loving little girl,” she said, tears gathering in her eyes. “I guess that was real bad what I did.”
“I guess it was! Baby, you frighten me. How could you think such a thing?”
“I guess I was just mad about my cat, and I thought no one cared about me ’cause they only cared about Gunnie’s baby.”
“But, Baby – did that seem like something you should pray for? Is that why we pray?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know it isn’t. We’re supposed to ask for blessings for the people we love, not to ask for – not to ask for terrible things to happen to them! Can you even begin to imagine how Gunnilda would feel if her baby died? Did you want to hurt her so badly?”
“No, I guess I don’t,” she whimpered. “Oh, Da, but do you think God will make Gunnie die now ’cause of me?”
“Baby, God won’t make anybody die because you prayed for it. God doesn’t listen to that kind of prayer. He doesn’t like that kind of prayer at all, and next time you pray you had better ask Him to forgive you.”
“Should I pray for Gunnie to get better? And her baby too?”
“Aye, you should. And pray for your poor Da, too, who doesn’t know what to do with you. Oh, Baby, do you suppose I’m a selfish man for not getting a new mama for you?”
“Oh, no! I don’t want no mama at all!”
“Perhaps you need one. I’m only a foolish old man who doesn’t know the first thing about little girls.”
“I guess Gunnie does know the first thing about little girls.”
“That’s true, she does. I suppose we need her, don’t we?”
“So we should pray for her to get better.”
“Aye, we should. And we shall.”
“And pray for her poor baby, too.”
“Aye, him too. That’s a good girl.”
“And I shall love him, too, because I’m a loving little girl too. I am!”
“I suppose you are, baby angel,” he smiled, and he sighed.
