Matilda lets something slip

Matilda drained her cup, and then folded her arms and smiled radiantly. It was a fine son she and Alred had made, and he was growing into a fine man. She knew she would cry for her little baby this night, but for now she was only happy and proud of her small boy and and his small sword.

Happy, yes, she could say that now. And it wasn’t only the wine. All the people she loved were gathered around her – and a few she didn’t, she thought, glaring briefly at Maud. Those that were absent were dead.

It was seven years ago that her little baby boy was born, and seven years ago that they exiled themselves to this valley that she now called home. It seemed like only yesterday! And yet it was a lifetime ago.

Her fond and foolish little knight too had made her happy and proud. She had expected no more out of their life together than that they two live as she and her father had lived, without a home of their own, hovering around the court of their lord with the rest of the swarm of thanes and knights and ladies.

But Harold had reigned for less than a year, and they had fled with their jewels and their gold and their books and Alred’s sword. But what became of a hive when its ruler was slain? It was death for the bees. Thank God for Sigefrith. But now…

Matilda looked over to where Sigefrith stood, roaring with laughter as he and Leofric each tried to outdrink the other. Sigefrith had not learned Godwin’s or Harold’s art of being drunk with dignity. But then Sigefrith was only a Dane.

And Alred was an Englishman. Oh, Alred had fumbled at first – he had not wanted to be a ruler of men, had not thought himself capable of it, but he had not faltered. And now, with Sigefrith half-​​dazed with drink all the day, and Cenwulf stunned with sorrow, it was Alred who ruled the valley.

Quietly, subtly, yes – but it was he who picked up whatever Sigefrith and Cenwulf let slip. It was he who prevented grave errors from being made. It was he who spoke up for Egelric and who kept the peasants reassured whenever some sign of curses or magic made them anxious. It was he who corresponded with King Swein and with Harold’s sons and with the Aetheling’s sister in Stirling, and who kept the world outside from forgetting Lord Hwala and Harold’s cousin and what they and theirs might yet do if called upon.

Oh, Harold had laughed when he had learned how she had married him. But he had not laughed at her choice of husband. He would not have loved Alred if Alred had simply been a little fool who happened to be in such a place at such a time so as to become a coincidental hero by saving the life of his lord. She and Harold had both known Harold’s father, and they both knew how to measure a man. One had only to point Alred in the direction of his duty, and he would go forth to meet it, and he would not falter, and he would not fail.

He looked up at her at last and smiled.

He could still feel her eyes on him from across a room! Matilda sighed opulently with love and happiness and wine. She longed to talk to someone – she felt as if she were overflowing. She turned with a great swoop of her skirts, looking for a likely ear.

Ah! There was Mistress Hogge sitting quiet and pale and alone in the corner near the fire, dreaming of her baby no doubt. She would be in just the right mood. Matilda tottered over to her and dropped herself into the next chair.

“Good evening, Mistress Hogge!” she gushed. “Oh, may I call you Gunnilda now?”

“Of course. I would be honored,” the little lady smiled.

“Thank you, Gunnilda. You may call me Matilda. Oh, that rhymes!” Matilda snorted with laughter. “Don’t tell my husband, but I think I’m turning into a poet.”

Gunnilda smiled.

“I envy you, Gunnilda,” she said confidingly, waving a hand at the other woman’s belly. “My husband refuses to give me any more of those.”

“Well, His Grace may be right. I guess you do have awful big babies.”

“You’re probably wondering how that little man makes them,” Matilda snickered.

“I may have wondered that before,” Gunnilda smiled.

“But the men are quite tall in my family. You should have seen my cousin Harold. I only came up to here on him,” she said, chopping at Gunnilda’s collarbone with the edge of her hand. “What a man he was!”

“I guess Your Grace isn’t real tall either.”

“Oh, my mother was a teeny tiny little thing. She only came up to – ” she waved her hand vaguely. “Up to I don’t know where on him. She was only a girl anyway.”

“I heard she was a princess.”

“She was. She was a daughter of the Prince of Gwynedd. That’s down in Wales, you know. We were at war then. My father kidnapped her when she was only fifteen. She was so beautiful, he saw her once and simply had to have her. He simply waited till she came out of the church one Sunday, and then he galloped down the road and picked her up by the back of her dress and dumped her on his horse and rode off, all with just the one arm. He was a big man, too.”

“My goodness!”

“Oh, she didn’t mind after a while. She only lived a year after that, but I was told it was a happy year. I suppose such things were done more often in the old days.”

“I should hate a man that did that to me.”

“Oh, I don’t know. He loved her so. I suppose you can’t hate a man who loves you like that.” Matilda twisted her head around to eye Maud down at the other end of the room. “Although I suppose it could happen.”

“I guess I like a regular, steady man,” Gunnilda said thoughtfully. “A man that would swoop you up onto his horse like that might dump you back down onto the ground one day just as easily.”

Matilda laughed at the idea. “Well, I suppose your Alwy is a steady man enough.”

“Oh, he’s real steady. I’ll grant him that.”

“I’m surprised he ever had the idea to go after you at all,” Matilda winked.

“Well, as long as we’re swapping secrets, I don’t mind telling Your Grace that – ”

“Matilda, dear, please.”

“I don’t mind telling you, Matilda, that it was I who had the idea. I saw how my sisters got treated by their men – they was the horse-​​dumping type, if they had horses – and I said to myself, ‘Gunnie,’ says I, ‘what you need is a real steady man. He don’t have to be quick and he don’t have to be clever, but he ought to be steady.’ And I just about took Alwy by the nose like a tame ox and led him to the church, I did,” she cackled. “Poor man!”

“You two seem to be happy enough, now, though.”

“That was what I wanted, I suppose. He never does drink too much nor hit me, and he works like two men. And he’s a real good father. Real steady, what.”

“Now, I think he treats you a little better than ‘doesn’t drink too much and doesn’t hit me,’” Matilda scolded, wagging her finger at Gunnilda. “That reminds me – I want to know when I’m going to see your garnets on you again. The red does suit you.”

“Oh, they aren’t garnets. They’re rubies. I been – I have been wearing just this gold chain that Alwy gave me, to please him.”

“They’re rubies…? I don’t understand,” Matilda mumbled. Her head was a bit muddled, now that she thought about it. “Why would you wear just the chain if you have rubies?”

“Well, to be frank, sometimes I wonder if it was the right thing for His Grace to give me jewelry when I guess my own man can manage it. I don’t know but I guess Alwy was a little hurt, ’cause he gave me this chain after. And I been – I have been wearing it now. I guess I’ll wear the rubies again, but for now I like to please Alwy.”

Matilda nodded slowly as the information seeped into her muddled head. “Alred gave you the rubies?”

“That’s right. I thought you knew. Was it wrong?” Gunnilda asked, growing red.

“Oh, no!” Matilda laughed loudly. “I’m not jealous or anything. I have dozens of rubies. Simply handfuls.”

Gunnilda smiled in relief.

But Matilda cast a quick glance to Alred. What did he find so funny over there? What was the little man thinking, giving rubies to this parvenu? Why, she had no doubt run barefoot as a child, and played with farm animals! And her grammar! What did such a woman know of rubies? It was ludicrous!

Gunnilda was chattering on now, reminiscing about Dunstan when he was only a little baby playing at her house with young Sigebert. Why, that house! That little daub house with the sooty walls! The creature that had lived in that house was now receiving rubies from her husband!

Matilda looked back at Alred again. This time he looked around and winked at her. Winked! Matilda flushed and looked away. She supposed he thought that was funny, to see his wife and his – his whatever she was chatting away in the corner.

Matilda tapped her long fingernails on the table. It would be satisfying to drag them down the woman’s face. Oh, she would make him dance this night!

She couldn’t resist looking back at him. He was talking to Egelric now. Ah, there was another such a one! The men were all the same!

But what had Egelric said to her? “Please don’t tell Gunnilda. It would be harder if she knew.” Well, well! Harder for whom? Him or her? She would just find out. They both deserved being taken down a few notches.

“Ah, there’s the lovely Queen!” Matilda exclaimed suddenly, cutting Gunnilda off in mid-​​sentence. “It’s fortunate that the younger children aren’t here tonight,” she said confidingly. “I always get so nervous for Sigefrith whenever I see young Prince Colban and Egelric too close together.”

Gunnilda blinked at her.

“You know, dear,” Matilda said.

“What about Egelric?” she asked weakly.

“You know. I’m always so afraid that Sigefrith is going to notice the resemblance one of these days.”

Gunnilda shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh!” Matilda tittered, feigning embarrassment. “I thought you knew. You know Egelric so well. Never mind!”

“Knew what?” Gunnilda asked.

Matilda pretended to hesitate. “Oh, well, as long as we’re exchanging secrets…” She leaned in close and whispered, “Well, I thought you know that Egelric was the father!”

Gunnilda shook her head again, as if trying to clear it of a thought she didn’t want to have inside it.

“Oh, but he is,” Matilda said, nodding sadly.

“Whose father?” Gunnilda whispered, her eyes pleading.

“Why – of Prince Colban, of course. I’m sure, I thought it was obvious. Or should be to you, who know Egelric so well. Only look at the child’s nose!”

Gunnilda sat back in her chair, beads of sweat beginning to form on her upper lip and her forehead. “That isn’t true,” she said weakly.

“Of course it is. It’s obvious. Anyway, Egelric told me it was. Alred knows, too. That’s why I thought you knew. He is so often at your house, isn’t he?” she purred.

“Egelric told Your Grace it was true?”

“Of course he did. I’m not a liar. Nor is he, so you know it’s the truth. Why, Gunnilda! Don’t look like that. I suppose you didn’t believe him capable of it. But the men are all the same, dear. They can’t be trusted where lovely women are concerned, can they? Well, perhaps your Alwy can be. Lucky woman you are!” she laughed.

Gunnilda nodded slowly.

“I suppose you will find it hard to look him in the eyes now. You mustn’t think so highly of him, dear. He’s just like any other man. No better than your sisters’ husbands, no doubt. I still like him – he’s good enough for a man, but he’s still a man, mind you. And I think he’s learned he did wrong. I am quite certain that Princess Emma is Sigefrith’s own baby. But he did just recently tell me that he still loved her terribly, so I suppose it’s too early to start trusting him just yet, don’t you think?”

Gunnilda sat and stared straight ahead, her hands clasped over her belly, and her face as pale as chalk.

Matilda suddenly wondered whether she had done the right thing, considering Gunnilda’s condition. Apparently Egelric had meant that it would be harder for Gunnilda if she knew. “Would you like a cup of wine, dear?” Matilda asked uneasily. “You look pale. You aren’t going to faint, are you?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “Perhaps you could ask Alwy to come here a moment.”

But Alwy had already seen his wife’s face, and was already at her side. “You aren’t sick, are you, Gunnie?” he asked anxiously. “I knew this was too much excitement for you!”

“Pardon me,” Matilda said, attempting to rise. Why did the table slump away from under her hands as she leaned on it, and why did the floor tilt and pitch so? Oh, she had had too much to drink again! And it would be hours before Alred would be free to carry her up to bed.

She laughed as she went careening across the room to the chair by his side. It was too absurd – they were too absurd, the two of them. One could practically smell the pigs. Surely Alred couldn’t mean anything serious by that one! The rubies were no doubt a poetic gesture that poor Gunnilda was too crude even to understand.

She would ask him to bring her more wine, and she would just have a sip or two every once in a while to keep her head and limbs precisely this muddled, and then he would carry her upstairs, and they would fight – and that would be amusing – and then they would make up – and that would be amazing.