Leofric groaned inwardly as he watched the slow progress of the specter-like, veiled Lady Godgifu to the seat on a raised dais next to a large embroidery table. The thuds of the enormous staff she carried resounded through the hall with every hobbling step. At her appearance, he heard murmuring throughout the crowd around him and wondered at it. "What's wrong?" he whispered, leaning down to a young woman holding a bundle of cloth.
"Well, look at her! She can barely walk," she replied, gesturing at the old woman, her face etched with concern.
"She doesn't normally walk with a staff, then?"
The young woman shook her head, and craned to see through the crowd. Leofric thought there was something strange about the old widow's walk. She didn't shuffle with small steps and uncertain balance, keeping her feet carefully below her at all times, as was common in the elderly. She also didn't limp unevenly, as if injured on one side, like himself. No, this woman was not old, but injured... and the injury or weakness affected both legs equally. Though it was hard to be certain of it, because of the concealment of her flowing robes and veil, Lady Godgifu's wide-stance gait was quite similar to many new recruits he had seen who found themselves riding a horse for the first time. Interesting.
A guard with a fierce countenance near Lady Godgifu's seat on the dais, seemed on curiously high alert, scanning the friendly crowd as if looking for a hidden assassins or other threats, frequently settling suspiciously on Leofric's large frame. A scribe at a table near the dais took his seat and dipped a feather into his inkpot, and called out, "The Lady Godgifu will hear matters only of the utmost importance first. Please step forward, one at a time, and state your business clearly, and slowly."
To Leofric's surprise, every child in the crowd scrambled forward and surrounded the scribe's desk, all loudly describing their issues to discuss with Lady Godgifu that day. "One at a time! One at a time, I said! How am I to write any of this down? Is this how you listen to directions the monks give you in school?" the scribe complained, until the fearsome guard turned his head toward the babbling group and a deathly hush followed, as they immediately sat down on the floor and raised their hands. "Thank you, Sir Hulgar," the scribe said, then called upon the first child.
The adult crowd around Leofric settled onto benches throughout the room, as the children visited with Lady Godgifu, showing her their various crafts, bruises or scrapes, and telling her stories while she listened and embroidered at the large table. "She embroiders while wearing gloves," he said quietly, but loudly enough for the group of women next to him to hear as they sewed.
"Aye," said one, leaning her head to see Lady Godgifu's slight form pulling a stitch through while a boy showed her how he battled an enormous beast with his stick. "I canna see how she does it, m'self. I'd be throwin' those gloves in the fire before I finished the first stitch," she said, to a murmur of agreement from the other women.
"But, surely, the veil is a difficulty for her, as well. Does she always wear one?" Leofric said, sitting down next to the woman who had spoken.
"Aye, 'tis a shame, too. Such a pretty thing... well, she was once," said an elderly woman, causing a murmur to go through the group of women.
The woman nearest Leofric leaned over to him, "Pay her no mind. Maida fancies she saw her Ladyship here in Coventry as a child, on a visit with her father. 'Course Maida also sees faeries, so..." she muttered.
"She was wee a bonny lass with light blonde hair. Rode her father's shoulders and sang a drinking song, of all things..." Maida said, looking up from her embroidery as if seeing the past a few feet away from her.
Blonde... Leofric looked back up at the small figure embroidering on the dais, seeing her head shift quickly away from him as he did, and a suspicion began to form in his mind. He couldn't be sure, yet, but the very thought of it began tugging at the corner of his mouth. Soon, his belly began shaking and he struggled to remain silent.
At length, his resolve failed and a snort of laughter escaped him and the diminutive veiled woman surrounded by children looked up at him suddenly in alarm, and he knew he had stumbled on the truth. He knew it in his bones. He quickly stood and strode from the room, barely making his escape before bursting into gales of loud laughter that rang throughout the entrance hall and echoed back into the room filled with townspeople.
Tears rolled down Leofric's face and he wiped them away, breathing deeply, trying to control his laughter, but long years at war had not given him practice either in laughter or in stopping it and he helplessly fell into its spasms again and again. Lady Godgifu... the veiled and pious widow, the living saint of the town, sneaking around as a woman whose name he dare not speak in polite company.
When he regained control of himself, Leofric returned to the gathering and leaned against the back wall, his shining eyes fixed on the Lady Godgifu, remembering the sight of her floating naked in the water, running her wet fingers over his body, her sitting astride him in the sunlight and impaling herself on his cock. He only broke from his reverie when the children were dismissed and the scribe spoke briefly with Lady Godgifu.
"Her Ladyship will now hear matters that concern His Highness King Cnut," the scribe announced, once he had seated himself again. At this announcement, Leofric smiled down at his boots, feeling every eye in the hall turn to him, but he said nothing and did nothing. After an uncomfortable silence, the scribe cleared his throat, "Um... any other matters?" It seemed that no adult in the room had any business of import, and all eyes turned again to Leofric's tall silent frame against the wall, only now he was looking steadily at the Lady Godgifu with a smirk on his face.
Leofric slowly stepped forward and stood before the dais, the entire room silent and transfixed. Godgifu had stopped embroidering mid-stitch, her veil flickering outward with each rapid breath. Sensing the tension, indeed, every eye in the room volleyed quickly between the two. "My Lady, I am Sir Leofric, Ealdorman of Twywell," Leofric said, bowing low. Rising, he made sure he held her veiled eyes with his before speaking, "My Lady, would you be so kind as to grant me an audience with you, in private?" he asked.
"Yes," the small woman quietly replied, and standing quickly, at the same time as Sir Hulgar barked "No," putting his hand on his sword, and placing his body between the two.
