Caedwulf is outraged

“Papa!” Caedwulf shouted as he ran into his father’s study, but after he had slammed the door he winced as he saw that Cenwulf had been behind it, and now stood cringing at the sound.

“I’m sorry, Cenwulf,” he said softly. He knew his godfather did not have the same tolerance for shouting and running and banging that his father did.

“Nothing at all,” the Earl muttered.

“What is it, runt?” his father asked, evidently slightly annoyed. “We were about to go out.”

“Papa, I must tell you something,” Caedwulf said, and he slipped his hand into his father’s. “It’s important.” He gave a significant glance to Cenwulf.

“I shall go see about the horses,” Cenwulf said drearily.

“Why don’t you see if you can find Alfred before we go?” his father asked. “I wanted to tell him about the wood.”

“Certainly.”

“Papa,” Caedwulf began after Cenwulf’s boots had disappeared down the corridor.

“What now, runt? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“Papa, it’s important! I was in the garden, and, Papa, someone has dug up all of Mama’s flowers!”

“What?”

“What I said! All by her bench, and by her path, all of the ground is all digged up and the plants and roots are all gone!”

“Oh, God,” his father muttered and laid a hand over his eyes.

“Well! You must find out who did this! Why would they do such a thing?” he cried in outrage.

“Listen, runt. I suppose it was to eat them.”

“What?”

“You know your Mama had a lot of flowers that grew from bulbs in the ground. I suppose someone was hungry enough to dig them up to eat them. Like onions.”

“It’s not onion plants, it’s flowers! My Mama’s flowers!”

“Your mother doesn’t need her flowers any longer, you know.”

“I know, but – but I… Papa, it’s Mama’s flowers, that she loved!”

His father closed his eyes.

“You must find out who did it, and punish him!”

“How can I?” his father sighed. “You don’t know what it is to be hungry, boy. I’ve been hungry enough to eat roots before. And it’s quite possible that the people dug them up to feed their children. Would you have me punish a father for stealing food to feed his little boys and girls?”

“But you punished the men that killed the deer!”

“That’s different…”

“Why? We have lots of deer in the forest, but only one garden! Now Mama’s flowers are gone, and they will never be there again!”

“Your Mama doesn’t think of those flowers any longer, Caedwulf.”

“But I do! I like to see her flowers, and think about her!” He didn’t mean to cry in front of his father, but he couldn’t help it. He was just so furious – and so sad – and his father didn’t care! “You don’t think about her any more, but I do! You don’t care about her any more, but I do! All you care about is Eadgith!”

“Boy!” his father barked.

Caedwulf took a step backwards. Perhaps he had gone too far. But it was time it was said! “It’s true! It’s all you ever think about, is Eadgith!”

“You – ” His father took a deep breath and sighed, and his voice was softer when he spoke again. “As a matter of fact, when you came in here, ‘all’ I was thinking about was how I can feed all of these people who are apparently so hungry that they would dare dig the roots out of your Mama’s garden. I often wish I had the luxury of thinking only of Eadgith, or even only of your mother, or of you young rascals, but someday you will learn that there is no one with less liberty than a king, even in his thoughts. Someday you will also learn what it is to love a woman, and perhaps, though I hope not, what it is to lose her, and love again. Until then, I hope that you will have the wisdom to know that there are some things that you do not understand.”

Caedwulf stared at the wall.

“One thing that your father understands is what it is to lose a mother. I was your age when my mother died, and my father married another woman who was very kind and good and loved me more than I deserved, and whom I love to this day, though she has been dead these fifteen years past. I learned that it is not a betrayal of one’s mother to love one’s stepmother, and I hope you will do the same one day, though I know how you feel now. I remember.”

Caedwulf shrugged as his father reached down to stroke his hair out of his face.

“For now, why don’t you get your cloak and come with Cenwulf and me? I haven’t taken you out to see what’s happening out there among the people, but perhaps it’s time you saw. Who knows how soon they might not become your people?”

Caedwulf looked up in alarm. It was true that his father’s father had died when his father was only eleven. And he himself was already eight. “Papa, you look tired,” he whimpered.

“It’s a good thing I have you and your gloomy godfather to help me!” his father said, and he bent to kiss him.

Caedwulf pulled his father’s head down and rubbed his cheek along the scratchy beard.

“Come on, runt, let’s get your cloak and get some work done. The people will like to see their prince.”