Daeglan says no

“I gather you haven’t told Brede yet, since he let you ride all this way,” Hilda muttered.

Estrid busied herself with her babies so that she would not need to look Hilda in the face. “No… But it isn’t far, anyway.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

Of course she did. The truth was that she could not bear the possibility that she would not see joy on Brede’s face so much as relief when he would learn that he would have another child – perhaps a son. They continued to tell one another that there was nothing wrong with Daeglan, but she did not believe it, and so she doubted he did either.

Daeglan himself was sitting on the floor in plain sight of the wooden blocks he craved, and he could not bear that they had not been brought to him at once. He began to wail.

“What a bother you are, Daeg!” Estrid cried as she arranged the animals in Noah’s ark for the girls. “Ladies first!”

But Dyrne got up and ran to get the blocks for her brother meanwhile.

“Say thank you, Daeg,” Estrid said automatically.

“Thank you!” Dyrne said for him, as she often did, and “You’re welcome!” for herself.

Hilda snorted. “If you’re waiting for that boy to talk before you tell Brede, you’ll find yourself with a fully-​​grown knight in your belly one of these days.”

“Brede will guess before then,” Estrid sniffed. “Anyway I haven’t felt him move yet, so I don’t have to tell Brede yet.”

“Suit yourself. But I know your fingers are simply itching to get busy sewing little dresses again, aren’t they?” Hilda asked bitterly.

“Hilda!” Estrid sighed and sat beside her.

“Why don’t you get started? You can always tell Brede they’re for my baby.”

“Perhaps I shall simply make one for your baby, Hilda, since you won’t.”

“I still have plenty of dresses from my last four.”

“But a new baby should have new dresses of its own, don’t you think?” Estrid asked timidly.

“What? And make it think it’s loved?”

“Hilda…”

“I hate it! I hate it!” she hissed. “I think I would love a tumor more.”

“Hilda!”

“Mama?” Dora whimpered.

“Mama’s fine, baby bee,” Hilda said, calming at once. “Play with your toys. And don’t shove Dyr, if you please.”

“I wasn’t,” Dora protested. “She just moves fast.”

“Then don’t not shove her again.”

“But, Hilda…” Estrid began again.

“But what?”

“You’re still its mother.”

“I don’t care who its mother is. I want to know the father!”

“Well, perhaps you will, when it comes.”

“If it looks like Leofric, I shall slay it before its father’s eyes! Liar!”

“Hilda!”

“Must that boy make such an unholy racket?” Hilda groaned. Daeglan was banging his blocks together, as he liked to do.

“Daeg likes to make noise,” Estrid said apologetically. “Daeg, please bang more softly, won’t you?”

Daeglan looked at her, but continued his placid banging.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Sigefrith said it was his,” Estrid said. “You know he hasn’t told anyone yet that it isn’t.”

“Except his father.”

“Well, he had to. I think he believes you now.”

“Believes me what?”

“Believes you don’t know who it was.”

“Mama!” Dora cried. “Dyr won’t let Blithe play Noah’s wife!”

“Dora, Dyr is a guest!” Hilda sighed. “She may play God Almighty if she likes.”

“I know, but Blithe always likes Noah’s wife,” Dora whined.

“Since when do you care what your sister likes and doesn’t like?”

“I don’t know…”

Estrid giggled. “They’ll all be great friends someday, but it’s a lot of hair-​​pulling and hand-​​slapping now.”

“We used to pull one another’s hair even when we were almost grown,” Hilda said with a half-​​smile.

“We used to fight and kick and spit!”

“You were better than a sister for that,” Hilda nodded.

“And then Eirik used to come and pound on you!”

“And then my father would come and pound on him!” Hilda laughed. “Oh, Estrid,” she whimpered suddenly. “Why can’t we simply be girls again? I want to start over. Everything’s gone so wrong…” Her blue eyes filled with tears.

Estrid began fumbling around with her arms, trying to remember how Hilda could be embraced – it was so long since she had dared!

Thus the young women did not notice the fumbling that was taking place on the floor. Blithe had twisted Noah out of Dyrne’s hand, and Dyrne, who was a big girl and had the advantage in age besides, had snatched him right back again.

Blithe’s eighteen months of wisdom could find no better reply to this affront than to pick up a wooden zebra and knock Dyrne soundly on the head.

For all her brother loved to pound, Dyrne had never been hit in her life, except when her Papa smacked her backside when she was naughty. She did not think she had been naughty, and baby Blithe was not her Papa.

And for all he loved to pound, Daeglan had scarcely taken his eyes off his sister, and he clearly saw this exchange, and he clearly saw the tears in his sister’s eyes. He dropped his blocks and pointed at Blithe, for pointing was something he often did, but then he did something he had never done except when he was alone at night with his sister.

“No!” he cried. “No! Bad!”