The Queen’s command came in the evening, after Egelric and Elfleda had eaten their supper. He had been hoping that Her Majesty had forgotten. He couldn’t say why – perhaps even he had a faint fear that Baby would not bear the touch of holy things. What if she cried? Even that could be a bad omen.
But the Queen’s messenger came at last, and so Egelric had carried a drowsy Baby to the church, and Elfleda had walked alongside, holding a corner of Baby’s blanket in her fingers all the way.
“But I know not how the child is to be called?” Father Brandt had said suddenly, interrupting his prayer.
Egelric had laughed. “We have always called her ‘Baby.’ But of course she shall be named Maud, if Her Majesty will permit it.”
Queen Maud had been about to smile and nod graciously when Elfleda blurted, “Her name is Iylaine.”
“Iylaine?” Egelric had asked after a moment of awkward silence. “That’s an unusual name.”
“That was my grandmother’s name. And her grandmother’s,” she had said, staring steadily at him.
“But Leda, Her Majesty…”
“It’s all right, Goodman,” the Queen had assured. “Iylaine is a very pretty name.”
And so Iylaine she had been christened, and she had neither feared the water nor cried, but smiled merrily the whole time. A good omen!
But after he had tucked the grinning imp into her cradle, and kissed Elfleda’s hair on the pillow where she already slept soundly, he stepped outside to breathe the cool air of the spring night and make sure the stable door was locked. And on the doorstep he found a dead mouse. It hadn’t been there when they had returned, had it? Well, it wasn’t in the rainbarrel and it hadn’t chewed anyone’s clothing, so it was probably not a dangerous omen as long as he didn’t toss it in a direction from which he didn’t want the wind to blow. A southwest wind might be best, he thought, and so he picked the thing up by the tail and tossed it behind the house. But he would have to remember to ask Gunnilda about both of them tomorrow.