Theobald tells Githa

Githa Selle sat on the edge of her bed, listening for the sound of hooves outside. It was so late, and yet when she had asked one of the hands where she could find Theobald, she had been told that he had taken his horse and gone out. Where could Theobald be going so late that would require a horse? And why hadn’t he said anything to her?

Lately, she thought, there must have been many things he didn’t tell her. They spoke, of course, and slept in the same bed and ate at the same table, but except for the children there seemed to be nothing that brought them together. She had often regretted some of the things she had said to him, but somehow they couldn’t talk about that.

It was wrong, she knew – it was wrong to wish that they would just pack up and head back to her uncle’s castle in the hills. She had berated him for wanting to do that in order to protect his family from danger – and now she wanted to do it simply to restore peace in her family!

Githa laid back as she heard a horse canter up the path. It must be Theobald. She would try to talk to him when he came in. They knew there was no danger now from the Scots, and so if they left now it would not be out of cowardice.

“You’re still awake, Githa,” he noted as he came in and took off his coat.

“Yes.”

“That’s good. I would like to talk to you.”

“Oh – I would too.”

“Better let me go first, dear,” he said as he stretched out next to her in his clothes. “It’s important.”

“All right.”

“I want to tell you that I want to – well, that I shall – well – ”

She looked over at him.

“Well, this is more difficult than I expected, dear,” he said. “Won’t you come closer to me?”

Githa’s heart melted. He hadn’t been tender with her like this in so long.

“Can you tell me now?” she asked, smiling softly, as she snuggled into his shoulder.

“I think it might be easier,” he said. “Oh, you poor dear!” he whispered after a moment. “I don’t know whether you will hate me or be proud of me.”

She giggled. “I can’t possibly hate you, so I shall have to be proud of you.”

“Well, then, dear – I’m going off with the king in a few days. He will make me his squire, and I shall accompany him to Durham.”

“You’re saying you’re going to war?” she asked, her voice quavering. “You, Theobald?”

“I, Theobald,” he said.

“Why?”

“I had to.”

“Did the king command it?”

“No. What I mean is, it is something I had to do. I asked if I might go, and the king agreed to take me.”

“Oh, why?” she asked, tears welling in her eyes.

“I don’t know if you will understand, dear,” he said. “I had my father telling me, ‘You’re not one of them,’ and my wife telling me, ‘You’re one of them.’ And each of you told the truth, in a way. But it was driving me mad. Now I have decided: I am one of them. And I shall go with them to Durham, and I shall fight against King William, and I shall become a traitor and an outlaw – just like them.”

“You are mad,” she said through her tears. “Oh, Theobald – did I drive you to this? Why didn’t I let you take us home to Thorhold?”

He sighed. “I knew you couldn’t understand, poor dear.”

“No,” she sniffed. “No, I do understand – and it’s dreadful. You couldn’t stand living with one foot in each of two worlds, and now you have made up your mind to step wholly into one of them. I understand. But it’s dreadful. It’s war, Theobald. You might not come home.”

“No, but if I do then I shall come home with my honor.”

“An outlaw with honor!” she smiled bravely.

“You do understand.”

“Yes, but I shall be terribly unhappy until you return.”

“And I?” he asked.

“You too, of course. Oh, I shall miss you.”

“Then let us be happy until I go,” he said, and he kissed her.