Ethelwyn gets past the gate

Ethelwyn had left his horse in Sir Malcolm’s shed so that he could use the walk to think of what he might do or say, and this time he had found the answer. He would go to the gate and tell the guard that he had a message for Sir Malcolm.

Sir Malcolm might come to hear it, or the guard or some other servant might carry it to him directly, but certainly Ethelwyn himself could not disturb the family. If there was a party in honor of Mouse’s birthday, be it the simplest family supper, he could not and would not impose himself. Indeed, he had come to this conclusion so quickly that he might have taken his horse after all.

But as he stepped up to the gatehouse, he began to fear that matters would not be arranged as easily as he had hoped. Inside he could see a struggle: the guard was locked either in a passionate embrace with a girl or in a desperate, bare-​​handed combat with an invader cunningly disguised as a maid.

Ethelwyn sighed and stalked up to knock at the door.

“Who is it?” the guard laughed.

Ethelwyn wondered whether Sir Sigefrith trained his guards to respond to knocks like gossipy housewives, or whether they fell into the habit naturally. He supposed that Sir Sigefrith must think the legends surrounding his famous sword were sufficient to scare off any actual invaders.

Ethelwyn opened the door himself and stepped into the gatehouse.

He opened his mouth to introduce himself and his business, but the guard only cried, “Oh! It’s you! Go on in. Everyone’s here.”

“But I – ”

The girl squealed and slipped away from the guard, who went stumbling after her. Her hair was unbound and disheveled and her breasts seemed to be threatening an escape from the bodice of her dress, though her skin was flushed enough in certain places that he could not tell whether it was due to her own exertions or to the guard’s.

Ethelwyn had played at such games with such women, but he was beginning to think it all rather pointless and vulgar – at least viewed from the outside.

“Pardon me!” Ethelwyn cried.

“Go on in, it’s all right!” the guard laughed without looking up. “I know you.”

“He’s the one that fell in the moat!” the girl laughed breathlessly.

“Oh my God!” Ethelwyn groaned to himself.

“Come here and I’ll throw you in!” the guard threatened.

“We don’t have one!” the girl squeaked and bounced away.

“But I only have a message for Sir Malcolm!” Ethelwyn shouted. “I’m not invited!”

“Come here and I’ll throw you up the ladder, then,” the guard said.

“What’s up there?” she asked. “A moat?”

“Come up and I’ll show you!”

“Ooh!” she squealed. “I want to see!”

“But I’m not invited!” Ethelwyn wailed as they went bobbing up the ladder, the one almost on top of the other. “Oh my God!” he whimpered. “Why me, O Lord? Why me?”

When it became clear that the guard was not planning on coming down again any time soon, Ethelwyn began to wonder whether he could simply turn around and leave again. Only the guard had seen him… and the maid… and they had known him…

And if it were to be known that he had claimed to have a message for Sir Malcolm and then not delivered it, he would be considered either an incompetent messenger or a liar. He would have to deliver his message now, whatever obstacles Sir Sigefrith’s accursed manor would scatter in his path. Why, oh why, he wondered, had he told the guard his business?