Cenwulf is not paying attention

Cenwulf listened to Edris with one ear, but she was talking about the castle where she had stayed in the summer as a child, and he already knew it well, for Colburga had stayed there too and had often spoken of it. But he would not spoil the pleasure she obviously had in reminiscing, so he let her talk.

Meanwhile, he thought of Sigefrith and Maud. Sigefrith was, of course, delighted with his new son, but he could not hide his disappointment from his oldest friend. Cenwulf knew he had been hoping that some near-​​miraculous transformation would restore Maud to her right mind upon the baby’s birth, but so far it seemed that nothing had changed.

She was a good mother to baby Harold. Indeed, she was still a good mother, if a bit distracted at times, to all of her children, with the possible exception of little Colban. She still displayed an odd mingling of adoration and, Cenwulf would almost say, repulsion for her young son.

Sigefrith thought that he was too young to notice, but Cenwulf had the idea that the boy was learning to mistrust her; he would take her affection when it was offered, but he would no longer seek it, knowing that it might be denied. And all because he had refused to be held the first time he was brought to her after her fright! It was strange on what the woman built her world.

Suddenly he realized that Edris had stopped speaking in mid-​​sentence. He cursed himself – once again she had noticed he hadn’t been paying attention. His mind was able to recover the last few words of what she had said… she had been talking about the garden that was at that old castle on the Rhine. He cursed himself again – he had been meaning to ask her whether she would not like a garden here, like Maud’s, but he never thought of it when he was with her. And now was clearly not the time.

“I beg your pardon, Edris. I have been…” He trailed off, for she did not even look at him.

She stared into the corner, her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted, as if she were surprised, or as if she were trying to hear something faint and far away. And when he spoke, she lifted the fingers of one hand as if reflexively to quiet him.

He saw her chest rise and fall rapidly – she was about to cry. Oh, he had truly offended her this time. Had he begun to fall asleep? He had not noticed.

“Edris…”

She turned her head to him, and opened her mouth to speak, but she did not. Her eyes glittered, her cheeks were flushed… Was she ill? It looked like the first signs of a fever.

“Edris?” He took her hand: the hand that had moved to quiet him. “Are you ill?”

Her mouth opened a little wider, but still she said nothing. She looked as if she wanted to tell him something, but dared not. Her face was overspread with a flush. She closed her mouth and swallowed.

She was ill. She was ill, she knew it, and she dared not tell him.

“Are you ill?” he asked again. “You begin to frighten me.”

Baldwin, noticing either the look on her face or the tone of his voice, lifted his head and asked, “Mama?”

“I am not ill,” she said, but her voice was strange. “I only have a headache. I believe I should like to lie down for a while.”

Cenwulf knew that a woman’s claim of headache could be the sign of a thousand and one things, including a headache, but it meant always a desire to be alone. She was both ill and offended.

“Perhaps you should simply go to bed,” he suggested, and he let go of her hot hand.

“I may,” she said softly.

“I shall stay with Baldwin until his bedtime, and then I have work to do. I shall probably retire late.” He knew he was terrible at sounding nonchalant, but he wanted to reassure her that she would not be bothered by him for a while. “I may fall asleep on the couch downstairs. Who knows?”

He watched closely for her reaction. She only nodded and looked at the floor – and not even at Baldwin.

“Shall I bid you good night now?” he asked.

“Good night,” she said as she rose, and she gave him her hand to kiss – he found it damp – but she looked away. And then she was gone.