“Well, dearie, I thank you,” Githa said as she sat in the chair little Wynna had offered her. “I would love to sit and chat with you a while, but in truth it was your Mama I came to visit. Is she able to have visitors?”
“Oh, she’s better. My Da just makes her lie down all the time. I’ll go get her.”
“Da, are you going to stay home tomorrow too?”
“I suppose so, Baby,” Egelric replied without looking up from the fire.
“Let me just make the bed and we can spread out the things here,” Ana said.
“All right, dear, but don’t hurry,” Bethoc laughed. “No one need know how long it really took us. I think we can make this job last until dinner.”
Bertie sat at the kitchen table and kicked at its leg. There was no one there to stop him. He had been allowed to come home for Sunday dinner, but there was no dinner on the table, and he had found his Ma sleeping in her bed.
He had been looking forward to Sunday dinner—his Ma always had something good. They had something good every day at the keep, but that meant that it wasn’t special. It was more fun to have something good at home with his Ma and his Da and even his sister and brothers. Plus Egelric was usually there on Sundays.
Sigefrith stared at the parchment until the ink dried in the nib of his quill. Again.
He had been unable to sleep, and had tossed for so long that he was growing anxious at the idea of wasting the entire night neither sleeping nor working. Finally he had risen, dressed, and crossed the court to climb into his study and write a letter. Thus the night would not be wasted, even if he did not sleep.
Alwy entered the house with a heavy heart, but he put aside the thoughts that had been troubling him—and hid what he was carrying behind his back—when he saw Gunnilda seated at the kitchen table, pale and wan, and with no work before her.
“Oh, Alwy, leave that door open for a bit. That cold air feels real good.”
“Gunnie?”
“What, Baby?” Gunnilda asked, turning away from the fire with the dreamy expression she often wore lately still on her face.
Egelric lifted the cat with his foot and pushed it away from the fire. “Damn stupid cat,” he muttered. But the cat only came back and rubbed its white head against his leg.
“Iylaine! I told you—what?—twice already to put this cat out!”
“Good morning, ladies,” Sigefrith said as he came into the nursery. “Isn’t Caedwulf here?” he asked, looking around.
“Malcolm took him out to the stables,” Maud said. “They meant to watch a horse being broken.”
“There is worse than winter, my dear. There is nothing at all.”
Chapters
Latest Comment