Sigefrith fools everyone but himself

“Sigefrith! Sigefrith!”

Sigefrith woke at once, but the anguish in his wife’s voice made him feel as if his dream had been a calm reality, and that he was waking into a nightmare.

“What is it?” he gasped.

“Emma!” she wailed.

“Emma?” he repeated stupidly, stumbling out of bed.

“She can’t breathe!”

Barefoot and undressed, Sigefrith followed his wife as she ran, barefoot and in her nightgown, across the court and up to her bedroom at the top of the new tower. He could hear the whistle of Emma’s panting breath from across the room.

He followed Maud to the cradle, but she stood aside for him and looked from the baby to his face and back again, her eyes panicked and pleading. She looked as if she thought he would know what to do.

“What’s all this, Emmie-​​Em?” he asked the baby as he leaned down to lift her from her cradle, but there was something in his own voice that frightened him. “Let Papa see,” he murmured as he carried her across the room to the firelight with his wife trailing along behind. “She’s hot, Maud.”

“I know,” she said, twisting her fingers in agitation.

“What’s all this, ginger-​​baby?”

Emma answered with a cough – a dreadful, barking cough that chilled him immediately. He had heard such a cough before. And she looked up at him with the same pleading, panicked eyes he had seen in her mother. She thought he would know what to do.

“When did this start?” he asked Maud.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, confused and teary-​​eyed. “She was a little warm and fussy when I put her down, but she woke me with her coughing. I never heard such a cough!”

“I believe Alred and Matilda have,” he said, trying to keep a measure of calm in his voice, but he thought his forehead felt damp. “Remember when Gwynn and Yware were sick together last year?”

“Did they cough like this?” Maud asked hopefully.

“I never heard, but Alred described it that way.”

“What did they do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ask them!” she cried.

“I shall, in the morning.”

“Now! Ask them now! Listen to her!”

“Of course. Take her for a moment.” He handed her the baby and went out to send a servant to Nothelm, and another to wake the nurses and the maids to see if one of the women had knowledge of such things.

When he returned, Maud was holding the panting, wheezing baby as if she had never seen such a creature before, her eyes wide with fright. Emma reached for him as he approached. “She wants her Papa! She wants her Papa!” Maud babbled, close to a sob.

“Of course she does,” he said, taking the baby. “She wants to know who is that handsome, shirtless man. Haven’t often seen your Papa in the middle of the night, have you ginger-​​girl? Didn’t know he doesn’t simply set and rise with the sun, did you, Emmie?”

Emma coughed again, and her little face turned purple with the effort.

“Sigefrith!” Maud moaned.

“Calm yourself, Maud,” he said gently. “She can tell you’re frightened, and it frightens her.”

“Do you think so?”

“Of course. Look at her now. She’s already calmer now that Papa has her. She knows Papa isn’t frightened.” He looked steadily into his wife’s eyes and hoped she would be fooled as well.

“You aren’t?” she asked, her voice steadier.

“Of course not. Gwynn and Yware are fine, aren’t they?”

“That’s true.” She smiled faintly.

“Our Emmie simply doesn’t feel well, and we must take good care of her until she feels better.”

“Our Emmie,” she repeated, stepping closer, and he was surprised to feel her arms wrap themselves around his waist and her soft hair brush his arm. “Do you hear, Emma?” she said. “Papa says we needn’t be afraid. Papa says you shall feel better soon.”

She believed. And Emma, who laid her little head on his shoulder, and curled her little fingers over his collarbone, believed as well. Now he had only himself to convince.