Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“You do not know that. Besides… I think Narborough is missing something without Eddie’s screams echoing off the walls. It will do us all good to have a child about, as Keeva’s ward.”
Manducor simply lifted his shoulders. “She will cool the fire in him, to be sure,” he said. “She is a fearsome lady. Besides… I do not need a child to watch over, but she does. She has not had her own children, but I have.”
Eiselle heard the sadness in his tone when he spoke.
Or perhaps it was simply resignation – a man resigned to his past. He wasn’t one to mention his children, or even speak of personal things, not even his identity, which truthfully drove Eiselle mad with curiosity.
Manducor kept himself quite removed personally from everyone, including Eiselle and Bric.
The smelly priest with the penchant for farting had attached himself to them, as an advisor or a companion or even simply an annoying presence, and when Bric had been struggling with his battle fatigue, Manducor had been with him constantly.
To Eiselle, that meant that the man was nearly part of their family and she knew almost nothing about him. As he sat at the feasting table with a distant look in his eye, perhaps thinking on the children he had lost, Eiselle sat down across the table from him.
“You have much to offer a child,” she said. “What about my child? When he comes, will you simply ignore him?”
Manducor looked to his wine, unable to meet her eye. “Mayhap,” he mumbled into his cup. “He will probably be a devil, too.”
Eiselle fought off a smile as her hand instinctively moved to her gently rounded belly. She was only four months along, but her belly was growing nicely and she was certain she could feel the baby kick from time to time.
“He will not,” she insisted. “With Bric as his father, would you truly think such a thing?”
Manducor chuckled, setting his cup down. “I would not,” he said. “Bric would not allow it.”
“Nay, he would not. But I do want to ask you something.”
Manducor cocked a bushy eyebrow. “Nay, I will not be his godfather. He already has one in de Winter.”
She shook her head. “It was not that,” she said.
“But there is something else I have been thinking on. Whether or not you realize it, I have known you as long as I have known my husband. You performed our marriage mass and when Bric was suffering with his loss of confidence, you were always there to speak to him if he needed help. You are annoying, and quite disgusting at times, but you have also meant a good deal to Bric and me. It is for that reason that I should like this child to bear your name as one of his own, but I refuse to name my child Manducor. Won’t you tell me your real name so that I may honor you? ”
Manducor stared at her, startled by her request. He wasn’t quite sure how to react, or what to say, and he’d spent so many years denying anyone who wanted to know his identity that to think of revealing it left a bad taste upon his tongue.
“I do not need to be honored,” he said after a moment. “You provide me with food and drink and, on occasion, pleasant companionship. You do not need to add my name to the long list of names you intend to saddle your son with. I do not belong with the others.”
That wasn’t the answer Eiselle wanted but it was the one she had expected.
“Then you offend me,” she said. “You offend Bric by not allowing us to show you what you have meant to us. I have spent the past four months coming to know you and while I have seen a man of uncanny wisdom, I have also seen a man who is selfish and careless. And now you offend me by denying my wish to give my son your name.”
She was building up a righteous rage and Manducor stood up, moving away from the table because he didn’t want to get into a verbal confrontation with her. The woman was pregnant, and her moods had been volatile, so it was best to simply leave her and let her stew.
But even as Manducor moved away from the table, he was hesitant to leave completely.
He had grown fond of Eiselle, and of Bric, and in truth, they were the only real family he had, even if he had practically forced himself upon them.
The knight who tried to drown him when they first met, and the lady who had been so very timid at the beginning of her marriage to the big Irish knight had grown into people who were everything Manducor had ever wanted to be.
In fact, he saw much of his own wife in Eiselle and perhaps that was why he’d grown fond of the woman. His wife had been sweet, and soft, and he’d adored her deeply. Losing her and their children had left him empty inside, and he’d been empty all of these years until meeting Bric and Eiselle.
Now, they had a child on the way, a child Eiselle wanted to bear his name. She had been wrong; Manducor wasn’t honoring her by allowing her to use his name. She had honored him simply by asking.
Perhaps it was time for him to open himself up to people he genuinely cared about.
It wasn’t as if he’d ever given them any choice; he’d latched on to them the moment he’d come to Narborough and even though they could have chased him away, they hadn’t.
They’d permitted him to stay, and his life was the better for it.
He’d taken about ten steps away from the table before coming to a halt, turning slowly, and retracing his steps all the way back.
Eiselle was sitting there, looking at him with a displeased expression. He sat back down again, facing her.
“You must understand that I ceased to become the man I had been born the moment I joined the priesthood,” he said quietly. “You ask for my name… I do not even know who that man is any longer.”
Eiselle knew this was a difficult discussion for him.
“If I can piece together what you have told me about your past, you were a man who loved his wife and children,” she said.
“You are a very wise man, Manducor. You have been a comforting presence for both Bric and me. Please let me honor you by giving my child your name.”
He could see that she was sincere and, in truth, he was very humbled by her request. After a moment, he sighed faintly. “I told you that you would not believe what my real name was.”
“What is it?”
“Robert.”
Eiselle smiled. “Why would I not believe that?” she said. “It is a lovely name and will go well with the multitude of other names we have already selected for our son.”
Manducor was surprised that she hadn’t pushed him for his full name, including his surname. Because she hadn’t pushed, he would show her the respect of telling her. Somehow, there was a sense of relief in that confessional.
“I am the bastard son of the Earl of Norfolk,” he said quietly.
“I was christened Robert Bigod and I fostered in the best homes my father could arrange. My wife was a member of the de Vere family. We had everything – wealth, some prestige – everything. And I lost it all in two days when my wife and two children died of a fever. I have said that the priests of St. Margaret’s found me in the gutter and gave me a life in the priesthood, but that’s not quite true.
My father sent them for me because he could no longer be troubled by a son who had allowed himself to become so crippled with grief.
That was many years ago and I have not spoken of it since. But… may I ask a favor?”
Eiselle was quite astonished by his confession, but she nodded. “Of course.”
Manducor took a deep breath. “Instead of naming your child for me, would you name him for the son I lost? His name was Rhys. It would give me much comfort to know that my son’s memory will live through your child.”
Eiselle blinked away the tears now. “That is a beautiful sentiment,” she said. “I am sure Bric will agree with me. I would be honored to name my son after yours.”
Manducor simply nodded, the moment perhaps a little too emotional for his taste.
Forcing a smile at Eiselle, he stood up from the table again and headed off somewhere, perhaps to reconcile himself to the fact that he’d just confessed information he’d kept long buried.
Speaking it made it real again, and there were bittersweet memories in that.
Eiselle remained at the table, thinking of Manducor, from a fine Norfolk family, but so destroyed by the death of his family that to this day he wasn’t quite able to speak of it. As she sat there, pondering the lovely name of Rhys Bigod, Zara came rushing into the hall.
“Eiselle!” she gasped. “The army is returning! You must come quickly!”
Startled by the cry, Eiselle stood up from the table and scurried in Zara’s direction. “Now?” she asked excitedly. “Did you see them?”
Zara shook her head. “Nay,” she said, grabbing Eiselle’s hand. “But the sentries are announcing their approach. You must come!”
Eiselle took a deep breath and allowed Zara to drag her along.
She didn’t move too quickly, knowing she wasn’t allowed into the outer bailey with the army arriving.
But it was more than that – the last time the army returned, Bric had arrived holding a dead knight.
Before that, he’d returned to her wounded.
She’d never known her husband to return from a battle intact and that realization had her walking slower and slower.
Zara was trying to pull her along, but Eiselle simply didn’t want to move very fast, her anxiety growing by leaps and bounds.
She knew this moment would come; she’d prayed for it.
But now, she found herself wholly unprepared.
As was usual, her nervous stomach started to lurch, creating a miserable symphony in her gut.
Zara finally gave up dragging her along and let her go, running out into the outer bailey just as the gates were beginning to crank open.
But Eiselle didn’t follow her. Now, she could hardly breathe.