Sigefrith studied Alred's arms as he waited in the hall

Sigefrith studied Alred’s arms as he waited in the hall at Nothelm. He remembered when Alred had chosen them: the tree of the world, spanning between heaven, earth, and the underworld. Well, Alred always had been a bit poetic. But Matilda had told him once that she now saw it simply as an uprooted tree, which seemed appropriate to her, since she and Alred were exiles. Could Matilda be happy here if they had to remain?

'Sigefrith!'

“Sigefrith!” Alred cried as he threw the door open.

Sigefrith turned just in time to be caught up in a violent embrace.

Sigefrith turned just in time to be caught up in a violent embrace.

“Sigefrith, you filthy dog! You smell like peat fires and stale cheese!”

Sigefrith tried to laugh, but he was startled by the change in his friend. He felt like he was holding – well, only ribs. Only a skeleton wrapped in a tunic. He needed to get a look at Alred’s face.

But when Alred finally loosened his hold and took a step back, Sigefrith was sorry he did. He hoped Alred could not read his horror on his face.

There was no doubt Alred was dying.

There was no doubt Alred was dying. It was by no means evident that he was not already dead. His eyes were sunken and rimmed by shadows; his face was hollow, and its only color came from the spots of fever on his cheeks. It was almost macabre that he could continue smiling and laughing, as if he weren’t aware of what was happening to him. Sigefrith wondered whether he still denied it. He dared not mention it.

“Sorry, Alred – I suppose I should have gone home and bathed and shaved before coming to visit you and your fine sensibilities.”

“Not me and mine!” Alred laughed. “Jupiter, how I envy you! Next time you’re taking me with you, and I won’t take no for answer!”

So he was still denying it.

“Sigefrith – ” he asked excitedly, “we heard that Malcolm has surrendered – is it true?”

Is it true?

“All too true, Alred. Edgar has fled – into Flanders we believe. I don’t see how we can reach him there. It’s over.” He shook his head. “The north will not rise again. There’s not one man out of five left alive in Northumbria.”

“And our men?”

“We only lost seven, but we can thank Egelric’s cousins for that. We met up with them two days north of Leol, and we joined them as they went raiding down towards Durham again. But they were terrible – I called them devils before, but only because they were drunk and rowdy. We hadn’t seen them fight.” He shook his head grimly. “They were brutal. I can see why the people here are afraid of them. We couldn’t go with them – they were killing our countrymen. So we split up again and headed out on our own, but two nights later Gog and Magog broke away from their brothers and came to us and warned us that we were about to be ambushed by a band of Norman knights, and they led us to safety. That was the first time they saved us.”

“They saved you more than once?”

“Twice. Gog and Magog stayed with us till the end – or with Egelric, I should say. You know, calling Malcolm a ‘king’ is a bit of an exaggeration. The Scotsmen are loyal to no one except their own clan. And Egelric is the only descendent of one of the sons of the clan’s founder, which makes him a bit high and mighty – and he won’t let you forget it!”

'You know, calling Malcolm a 'king' is a bit of an exaggeration.'

“What about the second time?”

“That was at the end. After Malcolm surrendered, the Scots were to be allowed to return home, but William – he came in person, Alred – meant to round up and punish the English rebels.”

“‘Punish.’ Such a quaint word.”

'Such a quaint word.'

“Right. You know what that means. And to make sure he found them all, he offered their weapons and horses and a piece of gold per man to the Scotsmen who would deliver them into his hands. Suddenly our allies were our enemies, and meanwhile our enemies were still our enemies.”

Alred whistled.

“So Gog and Magog got a few of their cousins to raid the camp of another clan who had made off with about fifty English horses, and they got all of our men mounted. Once we got away from there, we hid our weapons and wrapped rope around our hands as if we were bound, and we rode behind the Scots as if we were their prisoners and they were taking us back to William. Except for that knave Egelric of course – being kilted, he got to ride with his cousins and be a Scot. Every once in a while the bastard would turn around and call me an English dog and then giggle like a girl.”

“Never!” Alred laughed.

Alred laughed.

“When I see him again I swear I shall kick his teeth in.”

“Isn’t he here?”

“No – he went back to Scotland with his cousins. They took most of the horses. He wanted to see the country of his grandfather, and I think his cousins wanted to get him married to one of their fair sisters, who probably look like ogres if their brothers are any indication. He’ll be back in a few weeks, he said.”

“Damn,” Alred swore softly. “I needed to see him.”

“He’ll be back before the harvest. It looks like it’s going to be a good year, from what I could see in the twilight.”

'I suppose it is.'

“I suppose it is.”

“Well, old friend, I suppose I shall tell you the rest of the story another time. I haven’t been to see Maud yet.”

Alred frowned.

“Don’t worry – I’ll send for you and Cenwulf first thing in the morning. And won’t Matilda want to hear? Oh, how is Matilda?”

'Getting close to her time, you know.'

“Oh – ” Alred said. “Getting close to her time, you know. Can’t get out much. Never does go easy for her, poor old girl. She – she – ” Alred’s easy tone faltered, his voice cracked. “Oh, Sigefrith – ” he whispered, and then he hid his face in his hands and sobbed.

He hid his face in his hands.

Sigefrith laid an arm over his friend’s shoulder. It must be very bad – Matilda had been ill before, but Alred had never broken down like this. No doubt his own weakness was making his wife’s illness more difficult to bear, but this was not like Alred at all. No one was more fearless or more foolhardy than young Sir Alred, as King Harold used to say.

Sigefrith laid an arm over his friend's shoulder.

“Is she very ill?” he asked gently.

“Very ill. Oh, Sigefrith,” he sobbed, “I take back everything Cenwulf said about you when Maud was so ill with the Princess.”

'Now, Alred, you didn't say those things.'

“Now, Alred, you didn’t say those things. You understood then, and you know I understand now.”

“I’m so happy you’re home. Oh, I’m going to shut up now. I’m a damned fool. Don’t tell anyone.”

“We all know you’re a damned fool, Alred. But I won’t tell anyone.”

'We all know you're a damned fool, Alred.'