Baldwin learns a new word

Edris chattered on, but it was so difficult to speak when one spoke alone – and more so when one had the impression that no one was listening. Still, somebody had to say something.

She was only telling of Baldwin’s day. It truly was amazing how interesting a character such a small person could have, but it was also quite convenient that his father was so fond of the boy that everything he did seemed a marvel. Thus Baldwin was an inexhaustible source of topics for conversation, and certainly her most reliable.

But when she looked over at her husband she found him sitting with his eyes firmly closed, and she faltered.

If his head had been resting against the back of the couch, she might have thought that he had simply fallen asleep, but he sat at attention… yet he did not seem to be paying attention at all.

He must have been, however, for after a moment’s hesitation in her speech, he opened his eyes and turned to her.

“I beg your pardon, Edris, if I have given you the impression that I am not listening to you. I suppose I am trying to rest a little this evening.”

“Oh, it is no matter.”

“I have been worried about Sigefrith and Maud, but that is no reason to ignore you. It may be that I shall not remember everything you have said to me tonight, but I assure you that I have been enjoying your talk. I find that restful, too. This room is always restful, somehow.”

She did not know what to say to that, and so she asked, “How was Maud today?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but just then Baldwin cried out, “Edris! Edris!” and ran towards her, holding one of the tiny stuffed animals she had made him for his ark: a fox that had just lost its tail.

Baldwin was at that age where anything worth walking was worth running, and this was a particular emergency, for the fox was one of his favorite animals. But he was also at that age where the least little thing is a dangerous obstacle, and tonight he caught his foot under the edge of the rug and fell flat on his belly.

“Uh oh!” his father said.

Immediately he scrambled up to sit, but after a moment’s reflection he realized that he had just experienced a catastrophe, and he began to cry.

Edris rose at once and went to comfort him – too rapidly, she thought, for she saw too late that her husband had begun to bend down as well.

But it was too late indeed, for Baldwin held up his arms to her, and cried, “Edris!” – begging to be held.

Cenwulf sat up abruptly and said nothing.

“Oh, no, no,” she soothed. “What have you hurt now? You don’t know? Let me kiss you a few times to be sure.” She kissed him all over his face, and on one of his hands to be certain. “All better?”

He had already stopped crying, and only sniffled a little to give himself an excuse to cling to her.

“Your little fox may require more than a kiss to be all better, but I can see to him tonight, and in the morning you shall find him all better too. And so?”

She thought she could feel her husband’s eyes on her back, and she dared not turn to meet them. She went through scenes like this with Baldwin every day, but they were usually alone. She always tried to stay in the background when her husband was there, and allowed Baldwin to be with him.

She hadn’t thought when he fell so suddenly. She was certain her husband was annoyed. She would put the baby down, although she thought he might like to be held a while.

“There now, you will be more careful next time,” she said to him, but she thought she might try to take her own advice as well.

She sat again beside her husband, but she only looked at Baldwin. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that he did too, but she could not tell whether he looked annoyed or not, particularly since his usual expression was one of tremendous gravity.

With a sudden movement, as if after a long hesitation he meant to dispel, he rose and went to kneel before his son.

“Papa!” the boy smiled.

“Well, Baldwin, that was the shortest rain shower I have seen in a while,” Cenwulf said as he picked him up. “All that remains are the rainbows.”

Edris shifted nervously on the couch. He didn’t sound annoyed, but surely he must have been, to find that she could so easily soothe away his son’s tears – Colburga’s son’s tears.

“Look at you,” he went on. “All better. I should say that Edris is a very good mama, to fix you up so quickly with just a kiss or two. I would wager that she will do just as well with Little Fox tonight. What do you say, Baldwin? Is Edris a good mama? Can you say that? Mama? Mama?”

Edris held her breath. She had never dared or even dreamed to call herself Mama before the baby.

“Well, Lord Baldwin? Can you say it? Try. Mama.”

Baldwin only grinned at him.

“Don’t be shy, boy. Say mama. Mama.”

“Mama,” Baldwin said, blushing pink, and then he hid his face in his father’s shoulder.

Cenwulf stood with him a while, his back to her, rocking gently back and forth and staring out the window at the eastern hills, lit with gold by the falling light of the evening.

Edris let her breath out slowly to be certain that he would not hear, and to be certain that she would not cry. But she did begin to cry. She dashed the tears away and rose jerkily to stand before the fire. A fire was always good for hiding one’s agitation. Now she could stand with her back to him.

“That was very good, Baldwin,” she heard him say. “Why don’t you practice that a while this evening? Papa has to go do some work before supper.”

“Mama,” he repeated.

“That’s right. Why don’t you go to Mama now?” He paused a moment, but she could not turn to him. “Edris?” he said softly, and she felt his hand brush the small of her back. She turned at once, and before she could say anything, he slipped Baldwin into her arms and said, “Have me called if you need anything,” and rushed away.