Out of the Darkness

king Beornwulf comes to Gromheort! the sheets declared. Below the caption was a portrait of Beornwulf, looking younger and handsomer and more kingly than Ealstan remembered him being back in Eoforwic. Of course, Ealstan had been dragged into the Unkerlanter army right after seeing Beornwulf, so his memories were liable to be biased.

“A parade,” his father said, reading the smaller print below the King of Forthweg’s picture. “A week from today.” He glanced over to Ealstan. “We’ll have to make sure we don’t get stuck in traffic-unless you really want to go see him.”

“No thanks-I have seen him,” Ealstan said. “What with what happened to me after I did, I’m not all that excited about doing it again.” As if in sympathy, his wounded leg twinged. He took another look at the broadsheet. “No, we don’t have to worry about it. The day will be a holiday, so nobody will go to work.”

“Nobody who’s looking for an excuse to stay home, anyway.” Hestan took work very seriously indeed.

When Ealstan got home, he found that Vanai and his mother had already heard about the royal visit. “A crier was going through the streets shouting the news,” Elfryth said. “Didn’t you hear him?”

“Uh, no,” Ealstan admitted. Maybe he took work too seriously himself. If the crier had gone by-and he probably had-he’d gone by unnoticed. Ealstan glanced over to his father. Hestan looked blank, too. Who would have imagined columns of numbers could be so alluring? Ealstan thought. He looked from his father to Vanai; at least he had good reason for finding her alluring. “How are you?” he asked.

“Not bad,” she answered. “Breakfast stayed down. So did lunch. If dinner does, too, it will be a good day.”

“Dada!” Saxburh said gleefully, and grabbed Ealstan by the leg, the only part of him she could reach.

He picked her up and gave her a big smacking kiss. She giggled. “Have you been a good girl today?” he asked.

“No.” She sounded proud of herself. Then, as if to prove her point, she reached out for his beard with both hands.

He put her down in a hurry. “What else has she done? Or don’t I want to know?” he asked Vanai.

“About what she usually does.” His wife put a hand up to her mouth to hide a yawn. “The only trouble is, I’m so tired all the time, chasing after her wears me out more than it did.”

Ealstan kissed her. “After you get through the first three months or so, you won’t be so worn out any more. That’s how it worked when you were carrying Saxburh, anyhow.”

“I know,” Vanai said. “But it’s different now. Before I had Saxburh, I didn’t have to chase a baby and keep an eye on her and nurse her. I’m still carrying Saxburh, even if she isn’t inside me anymore. I hope that won’t make too big*a difference this time around. It’s bound to make some.”

“You won’t have to stay in hiding, though, and it won’t matter if your masking spell wears off faster than it should because you’re going to have a baby,” Ealstan said. “You already found that out.”

“Well, so I did,” Vanai admitted. “No one bothered me at all. No one even yelled anything nasty at me. That surprised me. Maybe hating Kaunians has got to be bad manners for a while.”

“I hope so,” Ealstan said. “It always should have been. Kaunians are people, too.” After the words were out of his mouth, he realized he was quoting his father.

Vanai sighed. “I don’t think that has anything to do with why it might be out of fashion. If people thought like that, we never would have had much trouble. But the Algarvians hated Kaunians, and everybody hates the redheads right now, so whatever they did must have been wrong.”

With a sigh of his own, Ealstan nodded. “You’re probably right. I wish you weren’t, but you probably are.” Elfryth called them to supper then, which meant they dropped it. That also meant they had to capture Saxburh, who sometimes thought having to sit in a high chair was as cruel a punishment as going to the mines. This was one of those nights, which made supper, however tasty, something less than a delightful meal.

When Ealstan went off to cast accounts with Hestan the next morning, he noticed strangers on the streets of Gromheort-hard-faced, businesslike men who eyed how traffic went and who cast unhappy, suspicious glances toward every balcony and window above street level. After he spotted two or three of them, a lamp went on inside his head. “They must be King Beornwulf’s bodyguards, coming to make sure nothing goes wrong when he has his parade.”

“Mm, I daresay you’re right,” Hestan replied. “How-efficient of the new king.” He and Ealstan both made faces. Beornwulf was Swemmel’s puppet, and everyone knew it. The choice was between Swemmel’s puppet and Swemmel undiluted by a puppet, and everyone knew that, too. Swemmel was rumored to think his own shadow plotted against him. If Beornwulf imitated him there, too, why should anyone be surprised?