Alwy Wants To Know

“Gunnie,” Alwy said as he and his wife were getting the squirming children ready for bed, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding in other homes that night, “When do you s’pose that priest will get here?”

“Oh, Alwy, I swear you’ve asked me that question three times already this week. He’ll get here when he gets here! What are you in such a rush about, anyway, are you hoping to get married or something?”

“Well, I don’t know, Gunnie, I guess I’m already married. To you,” he added helpfully.

Gunnilda sighed. She had a sharp wit and hated to see it dulled on a brick like Alwy, who could never take anything but literally. He was a good man, but sometimes she would wish for a little more spice in the conversation. 

Luckily Egelric came over most nights. Nominally to see Alwy, but in that little house it was impossible to see anybody without seeing everybody. He and Alwy would sit and drink their ale while Gunnilda cleaned up after dinner or bathed the children, and she and Egelric would trade barbs. Alwy would chuckle and occasionally call out, “‘Member how you two used to hate each other? That was so funny!” and he would laugh and laugh. 

The greatest fun with Egelric is that they continued pretending to hate each other and tried to outdo each other exchanging insults. She had had to let Alwy in on the secret, since he had been terribly worried at first that his friend and his wife couldn’t get along.

“Why don’t you ask Egelric tomorrow?” she suggested. “Maybe the Duke told him something.”

“That’s a real good idea, Gunnie. I guess I will.” Alwy frowned as he tried to maneuver his naked son into his nightgown. “Bertie, I guess you better just hold still now so as I can put your pajama on you.”

“Aw, Da, why do I hafta sleep with my pajama on? You’ll just hafta take it off me in the morning!”

Alwy was struck dumb by the sheer genius of the boy. “Well, Bertie,” he finally said, “That’s real smart thinking!”