Sigefrith swears an oath
Sigefrith scooted back his chair and hid his annoyance behind a smile.
“Afternoon, runt. What do you want? My daughter wanted a new saddle, and my squire wanted the afternoon to go visit his not-only-a-cousin. Have a seat, to start.”
“Thank you, lord,” Baldwin said, twinkling down at him. “That should tide me over for a bit.”
Baldwin sat in the chair beside the window, and Sigefrith swung his chair the rest of the way around.
“But if you’ve come to challenge me to a joust,” he warned, “you can get right back up and hie your hind end out again! I’ve no desire to spend the next three weeks in bed as Brede will… thanks to you!”
“But Brede has his lovely wife to, ah, nurse him…” Baldwin teased.
“True enough,” Sigefrith said thoughtfully. “On second thought, if you could guarantee that you will break nothing more than my ribs, I’m game.”
“But what shall I do if you break mine?”
Sigefrith laughed. “Is that what you want today? A wife to, ‘ah, nurse you?’”
Baldwin lifted his hind end from the chair and mimed a bow. “An it please Your Majesty.”
He smiled still, but his twinkle had turned to a steely glitter. He was not only teasing.
“Name of God!” Sigefrith sighed. “Affrais, is it?”
“Have I been indiscreet?”
“To my knowledge, you have been a gentleman. A very single-minded gentleman.”
“I have attended courts all over Europe, and I have never seen such a beautiful girl. And she is as gentle and gracious as a lady should be.”
“And do you suppose the girl has never seen such a handsome man as you? Nor so gallant, nor so worthy?”
“Ah, as for that…”
Baldwin’s smile failed entirely. The gay chevalier was far gone, Sigefrith reckoned, if he could fear the girl might not favor him.
“How old are you again, runt?” Sigefrith asked wistfully.
“Twenty-five.”
“Damn! I was precisely your age when I lost my head over the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.” Sigefrith rubbed his beard and sighed. “You do make me feel old.”
“What happened?”
“Why—I married her! It was Maud.”
Baldwin grinned. “Fortunate man! Alas! more fortunate than I, perhaps…”
“I suppose I was,” Sigefrith said gravely, ignoring Baldwin’s plunge into mawkishness. “She broke my heart several times, and yet I still believe I would do it again if I were again twenty-five. Twenty-five!” Sigefrith slapped his palm on his table. “Remind my aging self that we shall drink to twenty-five tonight!”
“Certainly, lord. But as for those of us who still are twenty-five…”
“God rot your impudent ears!” Sigefrith bellowed. Then, somewhat relieved, he folded his hands in his lap and dutifully returned to the subject. “But you are not the first nor the noblest nor the richest man to ask for her hand, you know.”
“I have no money at all if Brit doesn’t return with it, God forbid,” Baldwin admitted.
“We are all praying for your brother’s speedy return, et cetera, but matters of money can be arranged. I shall be frank with you: I have chewed my nails down to the knuckles at the thought that Affrais of Thorhold will be marrying out of the valley before I can find a worthy mate for her out of my own stock of allies and relations. Therefore have I already mentioned you to the Baron. However, the Baron seemed none too pleased.”
“What are his objections?”
“What you already know: you are but the younger brother of a landless young lord. And Brede is the son of my own cousin, whereas you are only a distant relation of mine by way of the Danish princesses.”
“Robert of Flanders is my own cousin.”
“So is Robert Curthose.”
Baldwin winced.
“I don’t hold it against you, runt. Any enemy of William is my friend, even if he is William’s son. Anyway, the important opinion is not mine but the Baron’s. And, as he is perhaps somewhat lacking in either imagination or pragmatism when it comes to matters of international diplomacy, he does not trust you overmuch. You might, for example, wish to stop muttering to yourself in French when he is around to overhear it.”
Baldwin flung himself back in his chair. “Has he ever seen a Norman in his bloody life?” he cried. “His ears are impudent indeed if my French offends them when it doesn’t bother yours! Does he not trust your opinion of me?”
“You have never asked my ears their opinion of your French,” Sigefrith said dryly. “But generally speaking, he does trust me. At the moment, however, he is somewhat ill-disposed to me on account of a certain other potential marriage of which he knows I disapprove.”
“But that’s—”
“It is foolish to discount a man’s opinion on one matter simply because one does not share his opinion of another. I agree. But I told you Theobald is lacking in pragmatism, and all the more so since the death of his wife.”
Baldwin sighed and watched the candle burn, and Sigefrith watched his face meanwhile. For all he looked downhearted at the idea that Affrais would not be his, there was a stubborn set to his mouth that promised more than mere moping. Sigefrith suddenly wished he had not allowed Malcolm his afternoon free. Malcolm could tell the difference between a thinking man and a scheming man.
Finally Baldwin asked, “He doesn’t have a husband chosen for her already, does he?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Freya fears that she will be asked to marry Sir Osfrey’s son, Sir Ethelmer…”
“What?” Sigefrith sat up and pounded his fist on his desk in exasperation. “Damn him! Will that preening cockerel not rest until he has one of his chicks in every nest?”
Baldwin shrugged helplessly.
“Damn the man! Mark my words, runt, and we shall drink to them tonight as well: if Theobald offers his niece to any one of that parasite’s spawn after refusing you, we shall consider it an insult to our family, our future, and our honor!”
