Eadgith's priorities are rearranged

Eadgith did not believe she should be expected to be a queen on that morning. She did not believe even a great lady could be expected to be a great lady on such a morning.

The Earl did not seem to believe it either, for he had allowed her to retire to her room with Prince Drage, and he had not even pronounced the words “the people.” Instead, he had taken Prince Caedwulf out, and so “the people” would be reminded that there was a fine young man ready to be king if the worst were to happen.

Eadgith hated “the people” that morning. She even hated Caedwulf a little for presuming to be a possible replacement for Sigefrith, and she hated Cenwulf for showing him off as such. They were ignoble sentiments, she knew, and unworthy of a queen, unworthy of a great lady, and especially unworthy of a Christian woman. This last was the hardest to bear.

The faint sound of heavy boots came up from the stairwell, and Drage announced: “Mama, someone’s coming.”

“I can hear, Drageling.”

She supposed it was Cenwulf again. She knew it was not Sigefrith. Sigefrith always took the stairs two by two. Sigefrith was always in a hurry to get somewhere and get something done. He did not mind spending an hour sitting with her and apparently doing nothing, but wasting time in corridors and staircases exasperated him.

These steps were heavy and slow, as if weighted by despair.

She had prayed and prayed all through the night, though she knew that she was not virtuous enough to expect her prayers to be answered for her own sake. She had prayed for the sake of the miraculous child in her belly, that it might know its father.

But at the sound of those steps, she was struck by a sudden terror – perhaps the child could not save her from this tragedy either. It had been wrong to ask it. She should have confided Sigefrith’s soul to God, and not sought to clasp it to herself.

A sob fought its way out of her as she pushed herself up to sit. She would be content now if she could be granted a few more moments of uncertainty. But if someone was arriving to tell her now, it meant that Sigefrith had died hours ago–

“Are you in here, my baby?” her father called softly from behind the curtain.

Of course! They would send her father to tell her. Not a servant. Not a messenger. Not Cenwulf. If it was her father, it meant–

“Old Papa!” Drage squealed.

“Drageling!” her father cried. “Wheresoever that runt is, there can his mama be found!”

Eadgith threw herself at him as soon as he stepped through the curtain.

“My baby,” he laughed softly and hugged her against him. “Your husband is well and sends a kiss for you, which I shall deliver if you will remove your face from my neck.”

“He’s alive! Praise God!” she cried.

“He’s alive and fit to be tied. He woke up this morning at dawn, just as if he had lain down to sleep. But he was certainly surprised to wake up in my castle.”

“Praise God!” she said again.

“Praise God!” Drage laughed, though he had not yet been told, and did not know what he was crowing over.

“Will he be well?” she asked her father.

“He seems his old self, which means poor Malcolm is probably obliged to sit on him to keep him in bed. But he cannot for the life of him remember how he got to be there, my baby,” he said, seeming to scold. “The last thing he remembers is a little conversation he had with you.”

“With me?”

“Yes, Eadgith, and I should like to have a ‘little conversation’ with you about that.”

“About what?”

“Well, Eadie, your husband arrived in my study last night spewing forth such blasphemies that he probably deserved to be struck down dead, though the Good Lord ought to have done it with a lesser delay if He had wanted to teach this old sinner a lesson.”

“Oh, Sigefrith!” Eadgith wailed. “I have always warned him!”

“Yes, Eadie, and that is precisely the problem. A man needs to let loose an occasional ‘God damn’ or a ‘name of God’ if he wants to keep his clear wits. Now – ”

“Father!” Eadgith hissed. “Not in front of Drage!”

“Name of God!” her father cried in exasperation. “And God damn, Eadie!”

“Father!” she shouted louder than he. “How dare you?”

“I’m bound for Hell anyway, so I don’t mind telling you – ”

“Father!” Eadgith clapped her hands over her ears, though she could still hear well enough to notice Drage’s laughter.

“Listen to me!” her father roared, and that she heard clearly. “Does your Bible not tell you to honor your father and mother?”

Eadgith dropped her hands.

“Tell me something, Eadie. Have you forgotten Queen Maud?”

“No…” she murmured dazedly. “What does she…”

“Can you not imagine what it must be like for your poor husband to hear another woman start spouting Bible verses at him every time he swears at the cat or farts in public?”

Eadgith was horrified, but Drage threw back his curly head and laughed.

“Oh, you know that word, do you, runt?” Leofric asked him gleefully.

“Who farted?” Drage giggled.

“You’re your father’s boy, all right,” Leofric said with evident satisfaction.

“Father…” Eadgith whimpered.

Leofric looked back at her, and his grin vanished. “Now, listen to me, Eadie. Sigefrith tries to do what pleases you, though it goes against his very nature, because he is a good man and loving husband. And I know – and he knows – that you want him to behave properly because you love him and you would rather he spent eternity in Paradise with you than in hellfires with your old father. God knows I shan’t be lacking for company in any case. But, Eadie – ”

“Don’t say such things!” Eadgith wailed.

“Son of a serpent! Don’t interrupt me! You’re as bad as your mother. First of all, I know you are delighted with your little baby, Eadie – almost as much as I am. But I can guarantee you it was Sigefrith who put it there, and not any finger, no matter how blessed.”

“Father!”

“Don’t interrupt me! It was Sigefrith who put it there, and it is nothing but an ordinary runt, and not any future or current saint, and nothing bad will happen to anybody if its father blasphemes within four hundred yards of your belly.”

Eadgith did not dare interrupt him again, but she was nearly squirming in agitation by this time.

“But more than that, Eadie – the problem is that Sigefrith can’t argue with you and I can’t argue with you, because you have a Bible verse to counter everything we say. But I think that, in truth, you’re wrong and we’re right. Your husband is a good man, Eadie. I don’t care how many times he takes the Lord’s name in vain. He loves the Lord, and he loves his neighbor as himself. Do you think he does not?”

“No…”

“That’s the most important thing. I may be an old sinner, but I didn’t make that up. That’s in your Bible, too. Sigefrith calls everyone he loves by nasty names, even God. And he is generous and kind and just. If he doesn’t deserve to go to heaven, I don’t know who does. Certainly not that mad priest of yours who goes around muttering to himself and cutting himself up with knives.”

“Father! Father Aelfden is a very holy man!”

“Oh, Eadie!” he groaned. “I can see what brought Sigefrith to me yesterday. Listen. I know I won’t convince you today, but I want you to think about what I have said. I can’t keep this up much longer, because this runt is either going to climb my leg or pull my leggings down around my ankles.”

Drage laughed and gave his grandfather’s leggings a sharp but fruitless tug.

“Think about how this sudden godliness of yours must seem to a man who was married to Maud. Think about how generous he is to you to try to behave as you want him to, even though it’s not in his nature. Think about how frustrating it must be to him to never be good enough to please you. Let me tell you something he said to me yesterday, though he probably doesn’t remember. He said you used to be sweeter before your prayers started being answered, and sometimes he wished things were as they had been before. He was laughing at the time, but I know Sigefrith, and I know he wasn’t laughing inside. He wishes you still loved him for who he is.”

Eadgith gasped. “Of course I do!”

“Then why are you trying to change him into something else?”

“I am not trying to change him, only prevent him from doing certain things…”

“Eadie, let the man be. He will find his own way to Paradise, though the way be narrow. He is a sinner like all the rest of us. But he is a good man.”

“I know it.”

“Let me tell you something else, Eadie. I have known your husband since I was a snotty-​​nosed page in his father’s castle. I knew him when he was a tiny baby, and Lady Hwala used to let me hold him, so long as I promised I would be careful with his little head. And last night I was kneeling in the woods beside him, waiting for the men to come with a litter, and I found myself holding his head as his blessed mother showed me. But I realized I had not been careful with it, as I had promised her. If he had died…”

Eadgith was dazed by this sudden reminder that her husband had once been a tiny baby, too weak even to hold up his head – that he had once had a mother who must have loved him as she loved Drage–

“When he said those things to me yesterday,” her father continued, “I should have hopped up on my horse and come here to tell you everything I just told you now. Instead I let him talk me into doing something stupid, and it almost got him killed. But he never would have wanted to do the stupid thing if he had been allowed to swear at a few cats or occasionally clean his sword on a Sunday. Do you hear me? He will deny it, but I’m telling you it’s true.”

“I hear you,” she murmured.

“Now then, my girl, you womenfolk are always saying what babies we men are. I shall, exceptionally, admit it’s the truth. Your husband is in your care. You must remember to be careful with his head. Now, what is this little runty devil down here what’s trying to unlace Old Papa’s boots?” he growled and picked up Drage.

Eadgith did not have an argument against what he had said. It stood to reason that her husband had been struck down because he had sinned and blasphemed, and he had been allowed to live out of God’s great mercy, that it be a lesson to him. But her father did not even admit the possibility that the lesson was intended for anyone but her.

And none of the scenes on the illuminated pages of her Psalter and Gospels had for her the raw, breath-​​rattling power of this image of her father kneeling in the darkening woods with her husband’s head in his hand. This was her family, from the old Lady Hwala down to her coming child. She loved them as she loved God. And more, she thought recklessly.

“Hang on!” her father laughed as he tipped her son upside down. “You will make your Old Papa feel like an ass if he drops you now and breaks your head!”