Alred leaves without his knife

Brede sat in the chair that faced the door, and so he was the first to stop laughing. The others, their eyes following his, shortly did as well.

It was strange, he thought, that men now stopped laughing when Alred entered the room rather than when he left it. They had relied on him to make them laugh for so long that none of them knew how to make him laugh now. The only man that seemed to have any beneficial effect on him was Egelric, and that could only be deduced from the fact that he frequently slept at Egelric’s house.

“Gentlemen!” He beamed as if preparing his greatest joke. “I have had my fill of celebrating tonight, and so you all must help me mourn. Who’s pouring?”

The men exchanged uneasy smiles.

“Why, it can only be Brother Brede!” Alred laughed. From the sound of him, he had indeed already been celebrating for a while. “What are you doing here tonight amid such debauchery?” he asked Brede.

“Pouring!” young Sigefrith giggled. “He’s the only one still fit to pour without missing the cup.”

“I knew it! Let’s have it here, Brother.” Alred slid a cup across the table to Brede, and, after a nod from the King, Brede promptly filled it with wine.

Alred sat heavily and drank the half of it down. “I hope I am not interrupting a merry meeting with my somber news.”

“We were only getting drunk for no apparent reason,” young Sigefrith said.

“Hark, then! For here is your reason: the long and oppressive reign of my dread cook has come to an ignoble end!”

“What?” Sigefrith cried. “Has she fallen into her oven and burnt her own self to a crisp?”

“Worse than that, my friends. She has fallen into love! Not even gravy can save her now. Pour me another, Brother! My cook is getting married.”

“What’s this?” Aengus laughed. “To whom?”

“He’s the one who should be getting drunk tonight,” young Sigefrith said.

“We must assume he already was,” Sigefrith said.

“Alas! Not even,” Alred sighed. “It has been a long time coming, but I was so certain of her antipathy to all mankind that I never noticed the signs.”

“Well, who is it?” Sigefrith asked impatiently.

“It is only that fiendish traitor of a head groom of mine!”

“Wulsy?” Sigefrith cried.

“Even he!”

“But he’s a rather attractive man, isn’t he?” young Sigefrith said thoughtfully.

“I shall tell him you think so, sir,” Alred said. “It is not too late for him to change his mind.”

“Oh, I don’t want him!”

Sigefrith laughed and passed his own cup down to Brede. “I always knew that Wulsy had a great fondness for horses, but I did not know it extended to every beast of the field!”

“Alas!” Alred sighed dramatically. “‘For Adam there was not found an help meet for him,’ but as for Wulsy, it would appear that Eve would have been superfluous, and he might have kept his rib.”

“But why are you mourning?” Aengus asked. “The only time I ever ate well in your hall was when she was visiting her mother. And no one could get a late snack at your house for fear of crossing her in the kitchen and being turned to stone on the spot.”

“I shall remember what you say about the snacks, sir, and keep my pantry under lock and key henceforth.”

“If you have a decent cook we shan’t need to sneak around for snacks,” Brede said.

“You may have any one of mine,” Sigefrith offered. “Even unto the ugliest, if that is what you like.”

“Better give him the second-​​best, Sigefrith,” Aengus said. “That way we shall scarcely mind whether we are invited here or there.”

“Ah!” Sigefrith sighed. “But it won’t be the same. Strips of blackened saddle leather, brittle fish, water-​​logged turnips…”

“All swimming in gravy so lustrous you wish you could slather your naked body with it,” young Sigefrith added.

“Perhaps that’s what Wulsy’s thinking!” Aengus said, and they all laughed – all but Alred, who had taken out his knife at some point and was now twirling it between his fingers with a look of minute attention.

Sigefrith coughed. Alred did not look up.

“You know, Alred,” Sigefrith said, “I don’t know what Wulsy’s thinking, but I assure you we – ”

Alred pushed back his chair and stood, and in the same movement slammed the point of his knife down into the wooden table with such force that it remained standing.

“How is it possible?” he cried, furious. “Their lady is dying, and they’re thinking about getting married? Matilda is dying, dying, and you four are sitting here getting drunk for no apparent reason?”

Sigefrith rose. “Alred…”

“I can’t believe it! That is all. If the sun rises upon the night in which she dies, I shall know there is no God. That is all.”

He was panting as if he had been running. The others stood around the table. Brede kept a wary eye on the knife that reared up like a brazen challenge before him. Alred’s hand seemed to twitch towards it. Even drunk, Brede thought Alred’s reflexes quicker than his own. He would have to anticipate…

But Sigefrith simply reached over and plucked the knife from the table without waiting for Alred to make a move.

Alred sneered at him. “You of all people ought to know I haven’t the courage for that.”

“In the event the wine makes you bold,” Sigefrith said with a bow.

“The wine makes me nothing. Damn the wine! Damn the knife! Damn you all! Et cetera! Good evening, gentlemen,” he said, mocking Sigefrith’s bow.

“Are you going home?” Sigefrith asked.

“I shall go with you,” Aengus offered.

“I am going to see my trusty knight, gentlemen,” he said with another ludicrous bow. “He stopped believing in God eight years ago, and he spits through his teeth at the devil. And he always has an apparent reason when he gets drunk! Bless him!”

He went out, and none moved to stop him. Once they had heard the great doors close at the far end of the outer hall, Sigefrith slammed the point of the knife down into the wooden table with such force that it remained standing long after they all had gone.