Cenwulf reads a letter

“Oh, Edris,” her husband smiled as he came in. “I thought you must have been napping. If I had known, I wouldn’t have let Theobald go without greeting you.”

“Theobald was here?”

“He will return for supper. With Sigefrith away, I doubt the castle holds more attractions for him than does our humble pile of stones.” He sat on the couch next to her and gave her cheek the faintest kiss. “How do you feel?”

“I am tired, but resting on the couch.”

“You should lie down if you need to. What do you suppose Theobald brought with him?”

“Githa?”

“No, sadly enough,” he said, smiling. “She sends her love to you, however. But he brought this.” He drew out a narrow letter, still sealed. “It has come a long way. What do you suppose is inside?”

Edris felt herself go white. She knew that seal, with the hawk of Engern crossing wings with the dragon of Alsted. It had finally come.

She had been living in dread of that letter. She knew that Cenwulf had written to the Baroness after their marriage. She knew that a reply was bound to come. She simply did not know what it would contain.

Her aunt had mentioned nothing about marriage. She had merely observed, in her usual laconic way, that life in a convent had no doubt ill-​​prepared Edris for the care of a child, but that she would not be at ease until the right sort of girl had the charge of her grandson. And when Edris has opened her mouth to say she knew not what – for she could scarcely have been more surprised – the Baroness had simply waved her hand and said that any thanks should be on her side, and dismissed her.

All along the trip, her brother had ranted over the treatment she had received, although Edris had suspected that it was much about the bother of having to tend to his sister on what should have been an interesting voyage as it was about any insult to her honor.

But it was Raedwald who had put the idea of marriage into her head. To him, it was obvious that it was their aunt’s intention, and he was insulted at the thought of his sister being wrapped up and stored away for fifteen years in case a spare wife was needed.

She was not insulted. If it had been anyone other than Cenwulf of Wigen she would have been overjoyed. Cenwulf had been meant for her, but Cenwulf had been married to Colburga, and she knew what she was compared to Colburga.

“What does she say?” she asked softly.

“Very little, if I know the Baroness,” he said, waving the dreaded letter before him. “But of course I haven’t read it yet, silly girl.”

“Perhaps you would like to read it in your study.”

“It will be over quickly enough,” he chuckled as he carefully cut away the seal. “I shall translate for you, dear girl. I am not come to read you a lesson in Latin.”

The letter was here, and there was nothing she could do about that, but she did wish she could at least be out of the room while he read it. Oh, if the Baroness were displeased! If it had all been a mistake!

“Perhaps I shall lie down after all.”

He laid a hand on her arm. “Are you afraid there is bad news? Or only that my Latin is so bad that my translation will take a painfully long time?”

“Oh, no,” she blushed. “I know you read well.”

“I was dreadful as a boy,” he smiled, laying the hand that held the letter in his lap for the moment. “Sigefrith’s father used to make me read aloud to him, knowing that I would be mortified into studying better. Good Lord, wasn’t I, though? He would sit and shake his head slowly, sorrowfully…” He laughed.

She tried to smile back at him. It was so rare that he was in such a bright mood that she was terribly sorry she could not appreciate it properly – or share it.

“I pray you will not shame a grown man and do the same,” he teased as he took up the letter again and unfolded it. “‘To my dear children,’” he began. “Do you see? She wrote to both of us. ‘To my dear children, greetings in Christ without end. I give thanks to Almighty God who jealously guarded you, my dear daughter, on your long journey through strange lands and has delivered you unto my son, who is dear to me beyond all other men.’”

Cenwulf paused, but she thought she saw his eyes continue on over the text. What could she have written that he would not wish to read aloud to her? Her heart began to pound, and her baby woke and stirred uneasily as if he too wondered whether he had any right to be there.

“‘I commend him,’” he continued, “‘to your loving-​​kindness and care, begging you to help him in all his needs, and his son likewise, whom I love, and to follow him faithfully and willingly whither he goes. Great was my joy when I received your letter, dear son, and I praised God and prayed that He bless your intimate union, which I desired above all things.’ Do you see?” he smiled, and he looked up at her. “Edris!”

“Oh,” she sighed and let her head fall back against the couch. It had not been a mistake. She felt eight months of dread draining out of her, leaving her white and weak and empty.

“Are you ill?”

“No,” she whispered. “I had thought she might be unhappy.”

“Unhappy? Why?”

She could not answer.

“Did you think she did not wish us to marry?”

She nodded limply.

“Edris – she could not have sent an unmarried young woman to live with an unmarried man with any other thought in mind.”

“Even so,” she agreed faintly. Of course – he had only done his duty. The Baroness had left him no choice.

And now, perversely, her relief was replaced with a growing feeling of disappointment. He had had no choice. He had never wanted her – he had only done his duty, as honorable men did. And as an honorable man, he would do his best to prevent her from realizing it. But of course she knew.

“Edris,” he chuckled. “I am certain that she desired our ‘intimate union’ above all things, even if I doubt that I am truly dear to her ‘before all other men.’”

“Even so.”

“Now, we shall have a laugh. She says, ‘I beg of you, my children, to pray for me, because for my sins I am wearied with many trials and sore in mind and body, and this mortal life of mine will surely soon come to an end. Therefore, if this be the last letter I send, I pray that God protect you, and may you enjoy health and long life in Christ, etc.’” He looked up at her with a smile. “She will live long enough to send a similar letter to Baldwin. She may even send him his wife along with it.”

He laughed, but she found she could not.

“It will be as well for him if she does,” he said gently, and he lifted her arm and passed it over his shoulder before pulling her closer to him. “But we must try to make a good man out of him, so that his poor wife will not be too disappointed.”