The Baron comes to see the King
“Theobald!” Sigefrith cried, extending his hand to his friend. “Welcome home! I scarcely recognize you!” Theobald was dressed as befit a Baron, but Sigefrith spoke more of the haggard look his face had taken on in so short a time.
“I thank Your Majesty for the welcome, but this is no longer my home,” Theobald said.
“Don’t look so grim, Baron. We shall manage all of this. Did you come with Egelric or did you outpace him?”
“I came with Egelric. He has a message for Your Majesty from his cousins, but he wanted to get home to his daughter. Meanwhile I am to give you his greetings.”
“Well, that must do for now.” He looked at Theobald curiously. He had never seen the man’s shoulders slump like this.
“It’s a fine thing to spend a day with a man who doesn’t expect one to talk all the time.”
“You speak of Egelric?” Sigefrith smiled.
“He knows the value of silent companionship,” Theobald said, almost to himself.
“Well, friend, you know that’s not one of my strengths. I do expect you to talk.”
“Of course,” he said, forcing a smile.
“Wine?”
Theobald looked at the jug thoughtfully. “Why not?” he said.
“If I understand correctly, I may have to find a new source for the stuff,” Sigefrith said as he poured. “Harold’s sons are seriously talking of going to Denmark, and I don’t know whether I shall care to deal with the Norsemen directly.”
Theobald only stared into his cup.
“Perhaps I shall deal directly with you!” Sigefrith said. “I forget that I have a link with England now. I shan’t need to send all the way across the sea for my wine. Eh, Theobald?”
“Our cellars were destroyed.”
“Then you will have the fun of filling them up again.”
Theobald did not answer. He did indeed seem disinclined to talk.
“Theobald, you know that I am very sorry about your family. If I seem pleased about the change in our circumstances – yours and ours – it is not that I disregard your loss.”
Theobald bowed.
“Cenwulf is all the way down on the other side of the river today – else I should have liked to have had him here. Alred as well. We shall all meet at dinner. But meanwhile, perhaps you can tell me generally what you plan to do now. Cenwulf brought me a message assuring me of your loyalty, but nothing else.”
“You are my king,” Theobald replied gravely. “I am not come to tell Your Majesty what I shall do, but to ask.”
Sigefrith nodded. “You realize I shall put you in danger?”
“I know it.”
“Very well. Had your brother paid the rents for this year?”
“He had.”
“Excellent. That buys us a year. Cenwulf believes you should continue paying them as your father did – it has kept us well hidden for six years. I disagree, but we can discuss that this evening. What is the state of your castle?”
“The castle is in ruin – only the stone remains.”
“The stone is the important part. When can you begin rebuilding?”
“We already are.”
“Excellent, excellent. What of your forts?”
“They have not been inhabited for over a hundred years, Sige – Your Majesty.”
“Sigefrith! Thank you!” the King laughed. “Do you think Cenwulf bothers with My Majesty?”
“Cenwulf is your old friend.”
“And you? Theobald, even the lowly Lord Hwala was permitted to call King Harold by his name – I do not fancy myself above him in dignity!”
“I never saw him,” Theobald admitted with a slight smile.
“A magnificent man,” Sigefrith said, raising his cup to an invisible companion. “But he is seven years dead, and you and I have a few things to work out if we do not wish to join him.”
“Do you expect to be attacked?”
“Some day. But if we can hold the hills, we can hold the valley. What say you?”
Theobald shrugged. “I am no soldier, Sigefrith. But my forts are yours. You must tell me what to do.”
Theobald lifted pleading eyes to his friend’s face, and Sigefrith realized how little he had been prepared to rule. Sigefrith had been lord since the age of eleven, and Cenwulf had always been at his hand. And while Sir Alred had no pretensions, his wife was the formidable Lady Matilda, and she had grown up in Earl Godwin’s court and followed her cousin Harold to London.
Meanwhile Theobald had grown up the third son of the Baron of a quiet and remote corner of the island – the worst crisis his family had seen in his lifetime was a raid by the Scots.
“Theobald, why are you doing this?” Sigefrith asked him abruptly.
Theobald’s eyes went wide.
“Are you offering to help me because I need your help, or because you need mine?”
“I don’t understand.”
“I tell you, I shall put in you danger. You might think that I can help you figure out what you have to do – what it means to rule. And I can. But believe this: while the next few months will be very difficult for you without my help, the rest of your life will be much easier if you refuse it, and send word to William instead.”
Theobald’s face was white. “I gave you my oath,” he finally said.
“I release you from it.”
Theobald looked away.
Sigefrith said nothing, and allowed him to think. He knew how honor and duty could sometimes stand in for courage, and how much easier life could be when one could feel that one had no choice in what one did. But Theobald would have to choose.
“Then I shall give it again,” he said quietly.
“Very good. We shall be stronger together. Now, you’ve ridden a long way today, and I have been bothering you by expecting you to talk. Why don’t you go into the next room and rest yourself while we await Cenwulf and Alred? I’m off to see our silent Egelric and that daughter of his who goes before the King.”
Theobald only nodded.
