Alwy returns

Gunnilda saw Alwy’s fair head come bobbing up the stairs, and she had the door open before he had even laid his hand on the latch. Without a word, he lifted her up and carried her to the fireside, pressing his cold face against her warm neck.

“What happened, Alwy?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

“I don’t want to tell,” he murmured. “It don’t matter.”

“Alwy,” she said, squirming away. “You better tell me. I sat here all night waiting for you. I was real scared.”

“Well, I don’t want to scare you no more,” he whimpered.

“What is it?” she asked, growing pale.

“Well,” he sighed, “I guess it maybe wasn’t wolves that killed those people and those animals. I guess it was a man.”

“A man?” she whispered. “That man?” She lifted her trembling hands to her face, remembering the horror of finding him there just behind the glass, so close to her baby and so close to herself.

Alwy laid an arm over her shoulder. “I don’t know if it was that man. But Egelric’s man Gewis was killed in his barn tonight, while we was out looking. He was killed up in the loft, and no wolf could climb up in the loft. And he was killed real bad. Oh, Gunnie, I guess I shouldn’t have told you.”

For Gunnilda had begun moaning into her hands, and it was a terrible thing to hear.

“Don’t worry, Gunnie, I brought the Duke’s big castle dog, Belsar, home with me. No man will get past that dog. And old Alwy’s home now, and I know what to do. You don’t have to be scared no more.”

Gunnilda nodded, but did not look up.

“What about my babies?” he asked.

“They’re all in Wynnie’s room,” she whispered.

Alwy left her a moment and went to peek in the girls’ room. When he returned, he sat at the table, pushed the great knife away, and pulled her down onto his lap.

“Now you just sit here and cry a while if you want,” he soothed. “They was all asleep except Bertie. He said he was watching them. I told him he could sleep now too. I guess he’s a real good, brave boy, Gunnie,” he murmured, rocking her like a child.