Bertie pays an unexpected visit

“Ma, Bertie’s coming!” Wynna cried, for she sat in the favored chair that faced the kitchen window.

“Bertie! Oh! Hide the cake!” Githa laughed. “I’m sure I don’t know where he puts it.”

“He says he puts it in his leg,” Wynna offered.

“They’re long enough,” Githa nodded.

Gunnilda said nothing, but only folded her little towel and turned to face the door. It was one of the joys of her life to see her oldest son come through that door, as tall and as straight and as ponderous as a little man. It almost seemed worth his absence to have the sudden, heart-​​warming shocks his visits brought her, especially when they were unexpected, as today.

“Hallo, everyone!” he smiled. “Hallo, Githa,” he said and bent to kiss her cheek. “Hallo, girls,” he said to Wynna and to Colburga. “And hallo, Roly-​​poly,” he said to his mother and embraced her. He was gentle on account of her broad belly, but Gunnilda hugged him fiercely.

“Mmmm, what’s that?” he asked sniffing. “Cake – ham – cherry fire, or plum, or what? Did you guess I was coming?”

“Oh, no, she just spoils us,” Githa said.

“I guess my Da spoils you with the wood,” he said to his mother.

“Oh, pish!” Gunnilda said. “He just spoils his axe.”

“I’m hungry – can I stay?”

“I hope you can wait a while. I haven’t even thought of the turnips and things.”

“I can help,” he offered.

“Oh, no, you will not. You sit down and let me fuss over you,” Gunnilda said, attempting to push him over to a chair.

“I shan’t! Who will fuss over you, then? Look at these fine ladies, sitting here all sleek and cozy while you stump around like a big barrel on legs.”

“Bertie! They’re guests.”

“Wynn isn’t. Why aren’t you helping, Wynn?”

“She wasn’t working!” Wynn cried. “She only got up to wash our cups.”

“Isn’t that working? Point me to the turnips, Ma. I’m too hungry to wait for you all to think of ‘em.”

“You know where they are,” Gunnilda grumbled, secretly delighted at the practiced way he pulled out her chair for her and helped her into it, as if she were a great lady. They taught a boy more than Latin and sword fighting in that castle, she thought.

“What – no Baby today?” Wynn asked saucily after Bertie had returned with a potful of turnips. She was clearly irritated at having been scolded for letting her mother serve her.

“Malcolm’s there,” he said simply as he began to peel.

“Ohhhhh,” Wynn said knowingly with a sly glance at Colburga.

Gunnilda did not like Malcolm, neither as a friend for Bertie nor as a friend for Iylaine. He was, as her people would have said, deep. Among her people this was no compliment. However, his greatest flaw in Gunnilda’s eyes was that Bertie ceased to exist to Iylaine as soon as Malcolm appeared, despite the fact that she and Bertie had spent their earlier childhood together almost as sister and brother. Indeed, Bertie was no less Iylaine’s “brother” than Malcolm was her “cousin”.

If Bertie was ever hurt or troubled by the idea of being second-​​best, he never said or showed it. Gunnilda hurt for him. It was an inexplicable, inexcusable flaw in Iylaine as well, as far as she was concerned.

“I don’t know but I guess she’ll be going to live with her Da some time soon,” Bertie said.

“I don’t know about that,” Githa said. “I’ve heard he has a woman out there at the moment.”

“That’s nothing new!” Wynna scowled.

“Wynna!” Gunnilda scolded her.

“What’s new is that it’s the same woman from day to day,” Githa said to the girl.

“Who is it?” Wynna asked.

“Wynna, hush!” Gunnilda said, but she almost wished she wouldn’t. She had heard vague talk of women out at the new house, but not a woman. Just when she had thought that nothing could hurt her more…

“I don’t know who it can be,” Githa said. “No one can think of a girl who has gone missing lately. I think there must be something scandalous about it, if no one has seen her.”

“Well, that’s nothing new,” Wynna repeated.

“Does Baby know anything about it?” Githa asked Bertie’s back.

“I don’t know,” he grumbled, “but I don’t know anything about it, so don’t ask me.”

“Doesn’t that Duke ever talk to you about anything interesting? I would wager he knows about it.”

“I am not in his confidence, nor his squire’s,” Bertie said and slashed viciously at a turnip that had been nibbled by worms.

“Don’t gossip so, Githa,” Gunnilda said weakly.

“Oh! You like the gossip as much as anyone, so long as it isn’t about the Squire. I try to hold my tongue around you, but Bertie did bring it up.”

“I didn’t either,” Bertie said.

“You said Baby would go to live with him, and so I had to tell you she won’t. Even he isn’t bad enough to take his little girl out to live with whatever sort of woman even he is ashamed to show to the world.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk about such things in front of the girls,” Gunnilda murmured.

“As do I,” Bertie said.

“Oh, rot,” Githa sniffed. “They had better learn what people say about such women now, or they might be tempted to be one someday.”

“Githa!” Gunnilda cried. “Never!”

“Look at what happened to that cousin of the King’s, that Sigrid girl.”

“What happened to her?” Gunnilda scoffed. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“I don’t know, but everyone says that she only got married because she had to. That’s what happens when the girls don’t know what’s what. Those noble folk think it best to tell them nothing, so as they don’t know to try anything, but they figure it out anyway, or at least the boys do, and then there’s trouble. Isn’t it so, Bertie?”

“How should I know?” he cried.

“You live among them, don’t you?”

“I know that they don’t have such conversations before their daughters. I know that much. And I don’t think you should either.”

“Oh! Are you thinking to give lessons to your elders, my little man?”

“You asked me.”

“Well! So I did. But – what was I saying? I was saying that your Baby won’t be going to live with her Da any time soon, so you can put your little heart at ease. Or, if she does, I think we ought to do something to stop it, don’t you, Gunnie? Or she will know what’s what, and not in a good way.”

Gunnilda only stared at her quiet hands, which lay clasped on the table before her. Her baby still sat too high to allow her to breathe deeply, and she did get light-​​headed now when she was upset. Was she upset? She felt a flush roll over her, and her skin felt dry and tight. Her head felt as if it floated a little way above the rest of her.

“Are you all right, Ma?” Bertie asked her suddenly.

“Oh, I’m a little too hot, I suppose.”

“Cherry does burn hot,” he said, and he laid down the knife and went to tend the fire.

“I don’t like it when it’s too hot,” she murmured.

“I know, Ma.”