Alwy and his son quarrel

Alwy knew Bertie was home as soon as he stepped through the back door and heard the laughter coming from the kitchen. Gunnilda, Wynna, Bedwig, and Gytha were all seated in an adoring circle around him, and Bertie was amusing them with one of his funny stories.

“Hallo, Bertie,” Alwy said awkwardly, interrupting their fun.

“Hallo, Da!” Bertie turned his head and grinned at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve been working on a Sunday?”

“Well, I don’t know, but I guess the animals don’t know it’s Sunday, and they get hungry like every day. And the mare will go lame if I don’t tend her foot.”

Bertie reached back behind his head and grabbed one of his father’s long hands. “I know, Da. I’m only teasing.”

“Oh, that’s real funny, Bertie,” Alwy laughed softly. He did not find it so, and he was in no mood for laughing in any case, but he made a point of laughing when he was told that something was meant as a joke.

“Why don’t you come sit a spell before we have to go?” Bertie breezed.

“Well, I don’t know, but I guess I want to have a talk with you before we go to Mass,” Alwy said.

Bertie dropped his hand and turned to look at him again with eyes that had narrowed in suspicion. “All right,” he drawled and got up.

“What’s this about?” Gunnilda asked. She too looked suspicious.

“Just something between me and Bertie,” Alwy said and bustled off to his bedroom before Gunnilda could ask any more uncomfortable questions.

Bertie followed him and closed the door behind them. “What?” he asked warily.

He stood before the door, his head high and his shoulders straight in the posture he had acquired from his lord. In the Duke’s case, it was made necessary by his small stature, but Bertie was already the taller man, and even at fourteen he was beginning to look intimidating.

Few men were taller than Alwy Hogge, but just as the Duke and his high head could stand against taller men, so could Bertie stand against his father. Alwy had long thought his son more clever than he, but he was feeling even his physical mastery slipping away. The only power he could hope to wield over Bertie was the respect a son owed his father. Now he would put it to the test.

“Well, Bertie,” he said, trying to subdue the whine that always underlay his speech, “I guess I want to talk to you about some things.”

“What things?”

“Well, I guess about Osgyth, for one. I talked to her Ma not long ago, and she doesn’t want you to be going out alone with Osgyth any more. For one.”

“Why not? What did I ever do to her?” Bertie cried.

“Well, you went down to market with her and Wynnie and Anson, and your Ma wasn’t with you.”

“And? You said I could!”

“Well, I know, but now I said you can’t.”

Bertie threw up his arms in exasperation. “It’s not fair! What did I ever do to her?”

“Well,” Alwy said uneasily, “I don’t know, but I guess maybe you didn’t do nothing to her. But maybe you did to some other girls.”

“What?”

“Well, maybe in Denmark you did.”

“What?” he hissed.

“Well, I don’t know, but – ”

“Who told you that?”

“Well, I guess it was Osgyth’s Ma.”

“What in God’s name does she know about it?”

“Bertie, you know we don’t talk like that in this house.”

“I know! I know! What does she know about it?”

“Well, I guess Leof told her some things – ”

“Leof! Leof!” Bertie paced to the door and back again in his anger. “He wasn’t even there! What does he know about it?” He froze, and his face contracted in fury. “Eadwyn!” he growled to himself.

“Well, I – ”

“What did she tell you? What did she say I did? If it’s Leof and Eadwyn behind it, it’s half lies!”

“Well, she didn’t say.”

“Then what in G– What are we doing here?”

Alwy hesitated. That was a very good question. It was true the boy was more clever than he.

“Well,” he said tentatively. “I don’t know, but I guess she wanted me to guess.”

“And what did you guess?” Bertie snapped.

“Well… I don’t know but I guess maybe you did some things that you wouldn’t like some young man to do to your sister.”

“What?” he cried. “What? What does Wynnie have to do with anything?”

“Well, I don’t know, but I guess if you did some things with some girls…”

“Some things!” he said sarcastically. “Some girls!”

“Well, Bertie,” Alwy said. “I don’t know, but I guess you and me agreed that you wouldn’t do anything to some girls that you wouldn’t like some boys to do to your sister.”

“If that’s all!” he said with a strident laugh. “We had better ask my sister what she likes the boys to do to her!”

“What?” Alwy wailed.

“Oh, nothing!” he groaned. “It was a joke! Anson knows what I would do to him!”

“Well, that’s about right, Bertie. You just tell yourself that them girls, they have brothers that love them too, and maybe you shouldn’t – ”

“Oh, I like that! I like that!” Bertie laughed. “What did my Ma’s brothers think of you? Who do you think you are to be giving me lessons?”

“Well, I – ”

“Who do you think you are?” Bertie snarled, suddenly savage. “Who did you think you were? I know why she married you! She had to! Who did you think you were? A brute you were! A grown man you were, ten years older than she! And she a tiny little thing, not even sixteen! A little girl! And I guess you did some things her brothers wouldn’t like, didn’t you? A fine thing! It’s the only way you ever could have got such a woman to wife, that’s for certain!”

“Bertie!” Alwy choked and stumbled away from his son’s fury.

“And now you’re telling me not to do some things with some girls! I like that! A shame your father never gave you the same advice!”

Bertie yanked the door open and went out into the hall. Alwy called after him a last time, but he was overcome; he could not run after him.

He sat wearily on the edge of the bed and stared at his feet. He could hear Bertie putting on his cloak. He could hear Gunnilda’s and Wynna’s exclamations of surprise and entreaties for him to stay. Then he heard the door slam.

He knew Gunnilda would be upon him in a moment, demanding an explanation. He did not know how he would look her in the eyes. He did not know how he would ever look at her again. Bertie was more clever by far than Alwy had ever been. Bertie had seen straight to the heart of the thing.

And yet… He remembered how she would come to wait beneath the big tree for him to finish his work, and how they would walk out in the summer twilight upon paths that led to places where they could be alone. She would willingly put her hand in his arm, and sometimes she lifted her face to him before he had even the idea to kiss her. He remembered how she had smiled the day when he had momentarily found a greater courage than he had ever possessed and declared, “I guess you’re my girl now.”

“What was that about?” Gunnilda asked.

She was standing in the doorway: he could see the hem of her dress. Her words were careless, but her voice was tight with anxiety. He thought she might also be a little angry that he had caused her boy to go away from her on a Sunday.

It was true, he had won her unfairly. He had done everything with her that he was telling his son not to do. He did not know why he had not seen it before now. It was lucky for him that Gunnilda never had.

He could never admit it to her now. He could only hope that Bertie would not reveal it to her. He could not bear to lose her, however unfairly he had come to have her. He would die.

“Well, I don’t know, but I guess it was nothing,” Alwy said. “Just something between me and Bertie. Just a father and son quarrel.”

“Hmmph! That boy’s head gets any bigger, he’ll need to haul it around in a hod,” she muttered to herself as she went back out into the kitchen.