Page 293 of The Evening and the Morning
But this time it was different. Wigelm shoved in and out but seemed unable to reach satisfaction. She did nothing to help him. She knew from female conversations that when there was no love, other women often pretended to be aroused, just to get it over faster; but she could not bring herself to play that role.
Soon his erection softened. After a few more hopeless thrusts he withdrew. “You’re a cold bitch,” he said, and punched her face. She sobbed, expecting a beating and knowing that her bodyguard would do nothing to protect her; but Wigelm stood up and went out.
In the morning the left side of her face was swollen and her upper lip felt huge. She told herself it could have been worse.
Wigelm came into the house when the children were having their breakfast. She noticed that his big nose was now marked with wine-colored lines like a red spiderweb from drinking so much, an ugly feature she had not seen last night in the firelight.
He looked at her and said: “I should have punched the other side to match.”
A sarcastic remark came to her mind but she suppressed it. She sensed that he was in a dangerous mood. She felt a cold dread: perhaps her punishment was not over. She spoke in a neutral tone through her damaged mouth. “What do you want, Wigelm?”
“I don’t like the way you’re raising Alain.”
This was an old song, but she heard a new level of malice in his tone. She said: “He’s only two and a half years old—still a baby. There’s plenty of time for him to learn to fight.”
Wigelm shook his head determinedly. “You want to give him womanish ways—reading and writing and such.”
“King Ethelred can read.”
Wigelm refused to be drawn into an argument. “I’m going to take charge of the boy’s upbringing.”
What could that mean? Ragna said desperately: “I’ll get him a wooden sword.”
“I don’t trust you.”
Much of what Wigelm said could normally be ignored. He uttered abuse and curses that meant little, and forgot what he had said within minutes. But now Ragna had a feeling that he was not just making empty threats. In a scared voice she said: “What do you mean?”
“I’m taking Alain to live at my house.”
The idea was so ludicrous that at first Ragna hardly took it seriously. “You can’t!” she said. “You can’t look after a two-year-old.”
“He’s my son. I shall do as I please.”
“Will you wipe his butt?”
“I’m not alone.”
Ragna said incredulously: “Are you talking about Meganthryth? You’re going to give him to Meganthryth to raise? She’s sixteen!”
“Many girls of sixteen are mothers.”
“But she’s not!”
“No, but she will do as I say, whereas you completely ignore my wishes. Alain hardly knows he’s got a father. But I will have him raised according to my principles. He must become a man.”
“No!”
Wigelm moved toward Alain, who was sitting at the table, lookingscared. Cat stepped between the two. Wigelm grabbed the front of her dress with both hands, lifted her off her feet, and threw her at the wall. She screamed, hit the timber planks, and crumpled to the floor.
All the children were crying.
Wigelm picked Alain up. The boy screamed in terror. Wigelm tucked him under his left arm. Ragna grabbed Wigelm’s arm and tried to detach Alain. Wigelm punched the side of her head so hard that momentarily she blacked out.
She came to, lying on the floor. She looked up to see Wigelm going out, with Alain kicking and screaming under his arm.
She struggled to her feet and staggered to the door. Wigelm was marching across the compound to his own house. Ragna was too dazed to run after him, and anyway she knew she would only be knocked down again.
She turned back inside. Cat was sitting on the floor rubbing her head through her mop of black hair. Ragna said: “How badly are you injured?”
