Egelric tells Gunnilda and Alwy

Bertie came hopping in from the barn to find Egelric sitting on the floor with Baby’s doll in his hands.

“Hallo, Egelric!” he said. “That Baby is still sleeping, you know.”

“I thought so, Bertie. Where’s your Ma?”

“We was out getting the eggs. I found the most. I found five. But Ma’s coming now with ‘em.”

“Good work, Bertie,” Egelric said, managing a smile.

“Well, good morning, Egelric!” Gunnilda called as she came in.

“No one answered my knock, but I saw the fire was already lit so I came in,” he explained, standing.

“Then you did the right thing,” she said after she had counted the eggs out of her apron. “Bertie, you run and get your Da. You eating with us today, Egelric?”

“No, I thank you. I can’t stay long.”

“Well!” she huffed, looking at him. “Didn’t sleep much, I gather?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You either sleep too much or not enough, Egelric Wodehead,” she scolded.

“Hallo, Egelric!” Alwy called.

“Hallo, Alwy,” Egelric smiled, but his shoulders drooped. He was so tired. That drama of the dawn seemed so ridiculous now that he was standing here in the homey firelight with sturdy, dependable Alwy and prosaic Gunnilda. He wasn’t mad – he was simply a fool.

“Gunnie said as you wanted to talk to me,” Alwy said.

“That’s right, Alwy – both of you. Although,” he added, turning to Gunnilda, “I shall not say what I had expected to say.” God, was it only yesterday that he had come running in here in his kilts and swept up the daughter he hadn’t seen in months? and this little dark-​​eyed lady as well?

“What is it, Egelric?” Gunnilda asked. “It looks bad, by your eyes.”

“Bad?” He considered this. “You will think so,” he said finally. “But I must tell you before you hear it from the peasants. I must leave again.”

“Leave?” she repeated, blinking rapidly. “Again?”

“The King is taking fifty men to fight alongside the Scots and the young Prince Edgar. And I am to go with him.”

“You?” she asked, her throat tight. “You’re no warrior.”

“I’m not to fight. I’m to lead. The Duke is making me his squire. I go in his place.”

“Well, I guess that’s real fine!” Alwy cried. “Do we call you Sir Egelric now?”

“No, Alwy,” he smiled. “I’m not a knight. I’m no warrior, as Gunnilda says.” When he turned back to Gunnilda and saw the incertitude on her face he said, “I don’t know anything about this either. I do as my lord bids.”

“How long this time?” she asked with a tremor in her voice.

“I don’t know, Gunnilda,” he said gently. “Many months, no doubt. Perhaps we shall win back Northumbria, and then we shall see.”

Gunnilda turned away in agitation.

“This isn’t goodbye, Gunnilda,” he said. “We won’t leave for five more days.”

“Five days,” she repeated.

“You’ll take care of Baby?”

“Oh, of course we will!” she cried, turning around again, forcing a smile. “Same as last time. Everything same as before,” she said meaningfully.

“This isn’t goodbye,” he reminded her. “Will you invite me for supper? I want to get my fill of you all before I have to leave again.”

“You had better come for supper!” she laughed. “I’ll go to that castle myself and drag you back here if you don’t, king or no king!”