Matilda and Egelric would rather hear from Alred

Alred was glad to find Egelric with his wife. She hadn’t spent the last hours alone. Instead, it seemed she had spent them with her head on Egelric’s shoulder. But he was too heartsick to make a joke when Egelric looked up at him.

“I hate to wake her,” Alred whispered.

“Then get a chair,” Egelric whispered in reply.

Alred brought a chair up to the other side of him, but Matilda woke at the sound. “Alred!” she called, her voice low with sleep, and she stumbled up from her chair and threw her arms around him.

How small and slender she was! She was scarcely larger than a child herself. It would take so little strength to hurt her – and the elves were so strong!

Egelric rose as she did and stood silently behind his chair. Alred looked over at him, wishing he could simply inform him with a glance. He didn’t wish to speak.

“What happened?” Matilda mumbled, taking his face between her two hands. Her own was flushed, and her eyes were dim and tired.

“Matilda,” he whispered, “do you know that there are happy women who manage to live their whole lives without ever knowing that there is such a thing as horror in the world? I sometimes wonder whether I have not failed you by not hiding it from you.”

“We women know more of that than you realize, without you ever needing to tell us.”

“You’re too beautiful when you’re sleepy,” he sighed, “and too wise.”

“What happened?” she repeated aloud, glancing over at Egelric, who had the delicacy to stare into the fire.

“I am happy that I may tell you both at once. It’s not a tale that bears repeating. Sit down, the both of you.”

They sat, and he said, “There has been another death. This time, a child.”

“A child!” Matilda gasped. They all thought of their own.

“The boy that sleeps above Sigefrith’s kennel, and helps with the dogs.”

“I don’t know him,” she said.

“He’s – he was around ten or twelve I should think. An orphan. I suppose that was a blessing.”

“But – was he killed?” she asked.

“He was. By the elf. The woman. I think it must have been.” He looked at Egelric.

“Why?” he asked.

Alred sighed, hesitating. “Need I tell you, darling?” he asked his wife.

“Will I learn of it some other way?” she asked.

“Eventually.”

“Then I would rather learn it from you.”

He wished Sigefrith were here to say it. But Sigefrith was still with the peasants. “I think she meant it as a message to us,” he said to Egelric.

“But she said she would begin by killing the people I loved.”

Alred looked uneasily at his wife, who had turned to stare at Egelric. He had not mentioned this to her. “Then it was a warning,” he said, throwing an arm across her shoulder so that she would have to turn back to him. “I believe she – ”

“But where did she kill him?” Matilda interrupted. “Didn’t the dogs bark?”

“She killed him in the kennel. And the dogs never barked. I don’t – ”

“But – but are you sure he was killed? He didn’t simply die? or get killed by the dogs?”

“No, Matilda, certainly not. Unless you know of dogs that can write, perhaps?”

“Can write?”

“May I finish? It’s difficult enough without your interruptions.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, sinking down into his shoulder.

Alred looked over her head at Egelric. “She left a message for us, old man,” he said softly. “She took off the boy’s shirt, and with a nail or something sharp scratched IN INIQUITATE PATRUM across his chest.”

“This is vile,” Egelric muttered after a shocked silence.

“But why?” Matilda asked, sitting up again. “Haven’t you been writing to Theobald about that phrase?”

“We had been discussing it,” Alred admitted. “We hadn’t taken it quite so literally. But it is also something she said to us last month.”

“The elves take it literally,” Egelric said.

“Perhaps only these two do,” Alred replied.

“Why not all of them? We have only seen four: Druze and this one, and the two that stole my son. I had a poor enough opinion of them already.”

“And Baby.”

“Baby was raised by men.”

“What about your wife’s tree?” Matilda asked. “It was a sort of gift from the elves, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know about that,” he muttered.

“It saved Alred,” she said, running a hand across her husband’s chest.

Alred promptly took and kissed it. “That doesn’t matter. We have to deal with her. Once we get her and Druze locked away, we may see whether the other elves have plans for us.”

“What of the peasants?” Egelric asked.

“Sigefrith is taking care of them. He’s his old self, thank the gods. He could convince them of anything this morning.”

“Why didn’t they want me there?”

Alred sighed. “Egelric, I shall ask you the same thing I asked Matilda: need I tell you this?”

“I suppose I shall learn of it sooner or later.”

“And you would rather learn from me. Very well. They think you are what she is after, and they believe that if they get rid of you, she will go away.”

“Perhaps she would.”

“I doubt it. Your ancestors aren’t any more responsible for whatever might have happened here one hundred years ago than anyone else’s, as far as we know. Less so, since your own grandfather was from Scotland, and surely his family had no part in it.”

“I once thought of leaving because the peasants feared me,” he mused.

“I hope you won’t again.”

“Not until you ask me to go.”

“We certainly shan’t,” Matilda said, reaching over to take Egelric’s hand.

“That’s good enough,” Alred said. “Now, Matilda,” he began, finding himself calm enough now to risk a joke, “if you’ve finished flirting with my squire, will you please go up to bed? I have a few things to discuss with him, but I shall join you as soon as I may.”

“Jealous!” she chuckled, kissing him under the chin. “Good night, Squire – or good day, I suppose,” she said as she rose. “I hope you will come and talk to me sometime. I want to hear more about your men whose faces are the faces of lions.”

Egelric nodded.

“What’s this?” Alred asked.

“Jealous!” she smiled sleepily as she went out.

“I see you’ve forgiven her?” Alred asked.

“I suppose it is my duty. If she has no one besides the servants with whom to chat, I fear the consequences.”

“I truly can’t thank you enough, then,” Alred grumbled. “Now, I only had one thing I wanted to tell you, and one to ask you, and then I think we could both use a nap until Sigefrith comes. It’s about Baby.”

“What about her?” Egelric asked, his face showing his concern.

“None of them said so – not the ones who did the talking, anyway – but I had a bad feeling with some of these peasants. They’re not mine, so I don’t know them well, but I had the impression that some of them blame Baby for this. Perhaps they think that the elves are unhappy that she is living with men, or perhaps they think she – or, I don’t know.”

“They already believe she has the evil eye.”

“I know. But these are Sigefrith’s men, and they don’t often see or think about Baby. That’s why I don’t like it.”

“And I’m so often away,” Egelric murmured, staring down at the fire.

“That’s what I wanted to ask you. I wonder whether it would not be wise to have Baby stay with us for a while. Alwy alone is not enough to protect her if a fair number of serfs got it into their thick heads to do her harm.”

Egelric turned suddenly pale.

“I’m sorry to be so blunt. Even were you here, you alone could do no more than Alwy. Here we have gates and stone walls and guards. And it’s impossible to get to Gwynn’s room without going through mine.”

“She’s but a little girl,” Egelric said with a quavering voice.

“She’s a little elf girl. The people aren’t very clever, and they don’t know her, and they are afraid of something they haven’t seen and can’t understand. It’s not pleasant, but it’s not surprising. I’m sorry I don’t have the time or the energy to be delicate.”

“No, it’s well. Perhaps you’re right. I – ”

Alred waited, but Egelric did not continue. “My children will be delighted, you know. Gwynn simply worships her. And Bertie’s less of a scamp when she’s around, except when it’s she putting him up to his tricks.”

Egelric smiled softly.

“And she shall have ever so many opportunities to go out riding, and as I recall there is little she likes better.”

“Very well.”

“Good!”

“Oh – but I miss her!” Egelric blurted. “No – never mind – that’s neither here nor there,” he said, shaking his head. “I shall simply be happy when this castle is done and I may be a farmer again. Or a squire or a steward or whatever I am supposed to be,” he laughed ruefully.

“What you are meant to be is none of those things, but I don’t know what else to call you, besides indispensable. And I shan’t let Sigefrith forget that you’re mine. But you know, there are two or three more castles to be built if we want to defend this valley.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Why did I ever allow you to loan me a book on architecture?”

“Destiny, old man. But I assure you that we aren’t building castles merely to keep you busy. I hope we shall convince you of their utility at some point.”

“Well, well,” Egelric said, “I can’t dance and it’s too wet to plow, as my father used to say. I suppose it’s as well that you have something for me to do.”

“Keep piling stone on stone until I find something better. I believe I soon shall. You can find your way to a bed?” Alred asked as they rose.

“Aye.”

“Good night, or good day, or whatever Matilda decided upon.”

“Good luck would be most welcome,” he muttered as he followed Alred out of the hall.