Elfleda Gets Out

For reasons she never made clear to herself or anyone else, Elfleda quietly showed up at the priest’s house the next morning as the workers were bringing in the chairs and table. Perhaps her curiosity was aroused by her husband’s disappearance the night before, although she had heard him making his breakfast in the morning as she lay still in bed.

Egelric saw her strolling around the front of the house and left the workmen to greet her. He politely asked her if she would like to see the inside and gave her the briefest of tours, then asked her if she would like to sit at the table the workers had just put in place. She sat, and Egelric busied himself building a fire on the hearth. He waited for her to say something, but she didn’t stir. At last he straightened and looked at her. She was staring fixedly into the fire. “I’ll be outside if you need anything,” he said dully, and left.

Elfleda watched the fire. She liked to imagine she saw shapes in the flames. She used to play that game with clouds as a girl, but she liked fire better now. It changed so rapidly—you were never sure of anything before it slipped away again.

All at once she heard a bustle and laughter outside. A moment later, the door opened and she heard Githa Selle cooing, “Ohhh Egelric, it’s precious. It makes me wish I were a man so I could be a priest myself, doesn’t it, dear Elfleda?”

Egelric showed Githa around the little rooms with far more enthusiasm than he had displayed for Elfleda. But then, Githa was an enthusiastic visitor.

The door opened again, and a familiar voice called out, “Hello! Egelric, are you in here?”

Githa turned away, blushing.

Alred froze when he saw her. They hadn’t met since he had walked in on her bath a few days before.

“I am certain Your Grace will know how to play the host to these ladies better than I can,” Egelric said, effacing himself. “The workers are going to put the paving stones in upside down if I don’t get out there in a hurry.”

Alred stood sheepishly by the door. “Good day, Mistress Selle, Goodwife Wodehead.”

Githa smiled bravely and walked towards the Duke. “Good day, Your Grace,” she said, twisting her hands.

“I—er—” Alred began.

“Yes, yes, it’s all right,” Githa said, her voice low. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s just that—”

She smiled and shook her head. “How is Her Grace the Duchess? And His wee Lordship?”

“That’s what I mean, Gi—Mistress Selle. Matilda is not yet well. I don’t want to—I don’t want anything to upset her now.”

“Of course,” Githa said, beginning to understand what he was trying to say. He hadn’t told his wife about his illness. “Send Her Grace my love. And if there is anything I can do for you… to help you…”

Alred smiled in relief. She had understood. “Of course. Thank you, Mistress Selle. I shall give her your love. If you ladies will excuse me, I had something to say to Goodman Wodehead. Good day.”

Githa stood trembling a moment before the door. He would come back to her house, and she would have to put the ointment on his back again, and—oh why did she ever offer to do this for him?

Elfleda sat silently at the table, faintly smiling as she stared into the fire, lost in thought.

“Well, Elfleda, you look lovely today,” Githa said, bustling over to her. “The cold must bring the color into your cheeks. Or else it’s the fire.” When Elfleda didn’t respond she said, “It’s so nice to see you, Elfleda, you must drop in on me sometime. I have to go off to my bab—ah, off to my barn, to see what kind of trouble my silly husband has gotten into today.” Something seized her then and made her reach over to squeeze Elfleda’s shoulder. “God be with you, dear Elfleda.”

Elfleda stared wordlessly at the fire, and Githa breezed out the door.

Alone, Elfleda smiled to herself. She was not sorry she had come to the little house this day.