“Oh, Matilda,” Githa sighed happily and folded her hands over her broad belly. “I am so happy you could come and visit. I have friends here, of course, but it’s not the same as my old friends that I made when I was a bride.”
“We weren’t always friends,” Matilda reminded her.
Matilda found Alred murmuring to himself as he walked the floor with Cynewulf sprawled over his shoulder, limp and heavy-limbed in sleep.
“A poem?” she asked timidly from the doorway.
Malcolm sat quietly next to Maire, neither having quite enough courage to address the other. Malcolm had not forgiven her for her betrayal of her husband and her family, but just then he wanted the safety of a countryman with whom he could suddenly launch into a conversation in Gaelic if a certain young girl came looking to bother him.
It also permitted him to do a favor for his cousin Aengus, who was thereby freed to leave his “wife” and speak with the others. Often it was Matilda who would claim a chair next to Maire’s, especially when she had been drinking. She didn’t seem to notice that Maire didn’t understand the half of what she was saying even when she wasn’t speaking nonsense, but Aengus assured him that Maire did at least appreciate the gesture.
Sigefrith had only just tucked Hilda away with her doting husband and gone to join a lonely-looking Cenwulf in a corner of the hall when Malcolm came running up to him.
Cenwulf scowled down on the boy for the interruption, but Sigefrith knew well that Malcolm would not have been so unmannerly without good reason.
Eadgith smiled and blushed to herself as she came to stand a moment before the nursery door.
That morning, she and Sigefrith had been discussing what to do about rearranging the children’s rooms once Colban had left them, and she had suggested that one of them be given the nursery, since Emma was getting old enough that she scarcely needed nurses and nurseries any longer. Sigefrith had smiled fondly on her for a moment before saying that, for his part, he hoped that they would one day have need again of nurses and nurseries, and that in the meantime it was probably best that they left the room as it was.
“Oh, Eadie, thank heavens,” Hilda sighed as she waddled laboriously into the front hall. “Good evening, Malcolm,” she nodded, and she smiled at Sigefrith before turning back to Eadgith.
Malcolm nodded in return, but he could feel the hair rise on the back of his neck at the very sight of her. Something about her hinted at the weasel circling the henhouse, despite her feigned weariness—or perhaps because of it, as far as he was concerned.
Ragnhild walked wearily down the long corridor, grateful at least to be released from the tedious company of that prig of a Countess. If she couldn’t find Estrid, she supposed the safest course of action was to go to her husband and allow him to fuss over her. Then, at least, Leofric would be certain to leave her alone, and she could always count on Eirik to make her laugh.
She rounded the corner and slowed as she stepped into a halo of violet-blue light.
“Oh—is that Eirik?” Sigrid gasped.
“Damn,” Brede swore to himself. “I was afraid he would be here. Who else would it be?” he snapped at his sister. “He’s the only blond behemoth we have.”
Matilda was blinking back tears, but she strode down the hall with her head higher than ever. It was true, perhaps, that she had done wrong, but Alred didn’t know about it—so what right had he to look at her like that?
He had seemed so happy when she had opened the door to peek at the children. He was sitting on the floor entertaining the lot of them while Hilda and Edris looked on. “Entertaining,” in this case, seemed to involve allowing himself to be tickled unto tears by a horde of small children, but Margaret had spotted her and cried, “Mama! Come help tickle Papa!” and then he glanced up and gave her a look that the tears suited better.
“Well, what do you think of it?” Sigefrith beamed.
Alred looked around the bare room and nodded. “Warm, well-lit, adequate room for bride-chasing… You’re missing the most important thing, though.”
“And then the devil shows up and turns to her and says, ‘Get in the handbasket and lets go.’”
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