Eadgith's world changes

Eadgith strolled slowly from wall to wall, holding baby Lissa against her neck. She was so warm, so soft, so tiny, so sweet… Eadgith thought the only things she lacked were whiskers and a purr.

Leila leaned wearily back into the couch, idle in her fatigue, but the corners of her mouth turned up in a faint smile that Eadgith knew could last for hours if she were not disturbed. In fact, she was likely to be disturbed soon, for Raegan and Cedric would wake from their nap before long, but for a little while they would have peace.

Even her father seemed to be taking an afternoon nap of his own, curled up on the couch next to Leila, and no doubt helped along by the quantity of wine he had had with his dinner. He certainly needed the sleep – and perhaps the wine as well – for the newborn woke him so often that he usually ended the night in one of the empty beds upstairs. Her father was not a pleasant man when he had not slept, and so Eadgith walked as quietly as she could, just as if he had been a sleeping baby himself.

For all his barks and growls, however, and as sweet as was her brother, Eadgith was beginning to think that she was happier here than at Sigefrith’s house. Hilda and Estrid delighted in tormenting her, except when they needed her to watch Haakon; her mother was plaintive and restless; Eirik terrified her with his smile, and with the height and width and breadth of him; and her brother, the only person who seemed to care whether she was happy or not, was so often busy, so often away.

Here at Raegiming there was her father, who adored her when he was not barking or growling; there were Raegan and Cedric, who had begun to amuse her as small people, although she could not yet realize that they were her brother and sister; there was Lissa, her little darling… and then there was Leila.

It was not until her father had awoken her in the night a week before, and held her hand all down the stairs, and taken her to Leila’s bed – it was not until then that she had seen what Leila was.

She was her father’s wife, first, despite all his barking and growling, and he loved her. She saw that now.

But more than that, once Eadgith had seen her lying there with her face almost pale against the black hair that overspread the pillow, and with her eyes bright and frightened and grateful, and with her plain linen nightgown such as Eadgith herself might wear, and with her small hand that her father placed in her own…

Once Eadgith had seen her thus, she had realized that Leila was nothing more than a girl, only scarcely older than herself, who had left everyone she loved and everything she knew to follow a strange man to a strange country where half of the people would distrust her because of the color of her skin and the religion of her ancestors, and the other half would scorn her for being a second wife – or a mistress, as many called her, if they were not calling her worse.

It would have been so easy to love her if there had not been her mother!

As it was, she thought they could be friends, as her father had hoped – as her father had ceased to hope for a time, until they had brought him back into the bedroom, and he had seen his newest daughter in Leila’s arms, and Leila in his oldest daughter’s.

Leila smiled up at her as she passed, in response to her own smile, but both cringed suddenly as a sharp knock came to the door. Lissa did not stir, but her father grumbled in his sleep.

“Enter,” Leila called before Eadgith could go to the door, as softly as she could, but it was enough to wake her father, who sat up and snarled.

It was her father’s new steward. He was on his third steward this year – they invariably did something to displease him after a short time.

“An urgent message for you, my lord, from His Grace the Duke.”

“What is that smirk?” her father growled.

“Smirk, my lord?”

“Have you read it already, or what?”

“R-​​r-​​r-​​read it? No, I – ”

Her father rose, awkward but awe-​​inspiring, like a great bear coming to stand on its hind feet. “Nonetheless, one would say you already have the news!” he roared. “Son of a serpent! What need have you all of a lord if you mean to discuss my affairs before I even learn of them?”

“My lord, I – ”

Lissa whimpered and began searching Eadgith’s neck with her mouth. She would be hungry. Eadgith shifted her to one arm and gave her a finger to suck. She only prayed the baby would not cry now.

“Give it me!” her father barked, snatching the letter from his hand. “I suppose you’ve already talked it over with Alred’s messenger, no?”

“My lord, everyone – ”

“So let’s hear it! What’s the news? Save me the trouble of reading this!”

“M-​​m-​​my lord – ” the man stuttered.

“Out with it! Tell me what you know or I shall beat it out of you!” he said, brandishing the letter as if he meant it to be the instrument.

Eadgith saw Leila close her eyes, as she always did to spare herself the sight, at least, of her husband’s wrath. Eadgith was beginning to pick up the habit as well, but for now she kept her eyes open so that she might move out of the way with Lissa if the news were not forthcoming and her father kept his word.

“My lord,” the man gasped, “Her Majesty the Queen is dead!”

Her father’s arm fell at once.

“They say she leapt – ah, f-​​f-​​f-​​fell from the tower roof this morning. That is all I know!”

“Son of a serpent!” he whispered, and then crossed himself.

Eadgith turned away, struck breathless. Her heart throbbed so that it shook her body – she thought she could hear it beat.

“Go then,” her father said weakly to the steward, and she heard the door close a moment later.

She heard the parchment being unfolded, she heard the fire crack, and she heard the clicking of Lissa’s tongue as she sucked desperately at her finger. The fire cracked again, and then popped almost immediately afterward. She heard the rustle of a dress as Leila rose from the couch. She heard her blood pounding in her ears. But she did not hear what she hoped to hear – her father saying that it was a mistake – a rumor – a hideous joke…

“Her poor children,” she heard Leila say. “And Sigefrith. Little Emma won’t even remember her.”

“That is just as well.” She heard her father fold the letter again and sigh. “God forgive me, I think it’s better for them all.”

“Leofric, you don’t think so,” Leila whispered, scandalized.

“I do. She was mad, habibi. You didn’t see her. I’m only grateful she killed herself before she killed little Cubby or one of her other children.”

Leila gasped and said something in her own language, to which her father replied. Then they fell silent, and after a moment of hearing only Lissa’s sleepy sucking and the snapping of the logs, Eadgith began to feel that they were both looking at her.

“Is she hungry?” Leila asked her softly.

Eadgith turned at once, frightened at the thought of how her face must appear, frightened that they would expect her to speak. She handed the baby to Leila and then caught her father’s eye.

“We shan’t arrive before dark, but you don’t mind, do you, baby?”

She shook her head slowly, scarcely comprehending.

“Brit loves you best, of all the women. She will be needing you now. You aren’t afraid?”

She continued shaking her head.

It was overwhelming. Her mind was a perilous maze – every way she turned, it flung up thoughts that she dared not face. She had to focus on the crackling of the fire – it was all she could bear. The world had suddenly changed, and something in it that had given her reassurance, somehow, had passed away.