Egelric comes again
Egelric came at dawn.
“You haven’t slept,” he said at once.
“Neither have you, I guess,” Gunnilda said, her voice quavering again at the sight of him.
He closed the door softly behind him. “How are the children?”
“They’re all sleeping. Bertie stayed up till Alwy got home. Alwy just went to bed when the sun – ” She paused, trying to hold down a sob. “When the sun started coming up.”
But he was here: she didn’t need to be strong any more.
“Don’t let’s start crying, Gunnilda,” he said gently. “I need to talk to you.”
“What happened?” she asked, swallowing her tears.
“What did Alwy tell you?” he asked warily.
“He said it wasn’t wolves killed them people, it was a – a man. Did you find him, Egelric?” she begged.
Egelric glanced over at his great knife, still lying on the table. “No, we didn’t. But I need to ask you about the man you saw.”
Gunnilda too looked at the knife. “Was it him what did it?”
“I don’t know, but it does seem odd, doesn’t it? Alwy said the man wasn’t wearing any clothes. I would like to know what he looked like.”
Egelric’s voice was soft and deep and warm. She only wanted to listen to him talk to her. She would talk to him later.
“Gunnilda?” he prompted after a long silence. “He can’t hurt you now. You must tell me about him so we can find him.”
“I don’t know,” she managed to say, though her lower lip trembled.
“Was he a big man or small?”
“I don’t know… like you I guess.”
“Was he dark or light?”
“He was real pale but he had dark hair, I remember that.”
“Did he have a beard?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Are you absolutely certain?”
“Oh, I’m sure of that, Egelric. His face was all white.”
“That’s good – very good, Gunnilda,” he murmured. “A man can’t grow a beard overnight. That will help. Was there anything else about his face that you remember?”
“I don’t know – I keep thinking about him – I feel like – I feel like I been staring at his face all night,” she sobbed. “Oh, Egelric, the way he looked at me and my baby!”
“Don’t cry, Gunnilda,” he soothed, stroking the tears from her cheek. “The night is over. I don’t think he will come again today.”
“I never thought I would come to hate my pretty windows,” she sniffed, trying to smile at his touch.
“It may be that seeing you was what scared him away from your house. And if we can find him soon from what you told me you saw, then you and your pretty windows may have saved someone’s life. Now, I don’t think he will come back here – he knows you and Alwy have seen him, and he knows Alwy has a knife as long as his arm.”
They both looked back at the knife that lay glowering in the leaden light of the dawn.
“That I shall leave with you,” he said.
“What about you?”
He took her hand and laid it on the pommel of the sword that hung at his side, holding his own hand over hers for a long moment.
She nodded.
“I must go to the Duke. Take care of my Baby for – ”
“No!” she gasped. “Oh, please stay! Stay till it’s light!”
“Alwy is here.”
“But I need you!”
He lifted his head and looked thoughtfully down at her. “I trust Alwy,” he finally said.
“But Alwy – but Alwy is just – you know how Alwy is – ” she stammered desperately.
“Did you hear me?” he asked, his voice grave and deliberate. “I said I trust Alwy. Do you understand?” His steady gaze caught her eyes in their panicked fluttering and held them firmly until they closed in submission, and her head bowed.
“I shall come again this morning. When Alwy wakes, I want you to sleep.”
She nodded.
He studied her face for a moment. “I’m proud of you, you know,” he said.
But before she could open her mouth, he had turned and opened the door. “Good day, Gunnilda,” he called as he pulled it closed behind him.
She heard him swear at the Duke’s great black dog who guarded the stairs, and who had leapt up in joy to greet his tall friend as he descended.
And then he mounted his horse and was gone.
