ingulfrid

what could have been

Five years have passed since Ingulfrid travelled to Bebbanburg and married its Lord. She does not know whether to describe herself as a happy woman.

On the surface, she must be: she has a son named Uhtred, the true heir of Bebbanburg. He is nearing his fourth birthday now and is a strong, healthy little boy. Living in a great fortress such as this, she has the protection of some of the finest warriors to ever grace Saxon shores. Her husband has a wealth of experience and knowledge of the world that she can only dream of. Ingulfrid knows that she is considered lucky to be his wife.

But does she think the same?

Her arrival at Bebbanburg and the wedding that followed had been full of anticipation and worry. Dread had pooled in the very pit of her stomach at the idea of being married to a man she had never met. The concept was not new to her: it was what many ladies had to do, a duty that they must carry out at some point in their lives.

Not many ladies married men known for killing their own fathers, however.

Her anxiety had eased somewhat upon meeting one of the warriors from the lands she had never heard of. He had reassured her enough that she was able to walk into that church on the arm of her brother Leif with her fear slowly taking leave.

Seeing Wihtgar for the first time had comforted her a little further. His charming smile and his words had been starting to win her heart faster than she’d care to admit, and by the time they were husband and wife, Ingulfrid began to trust in the vows he had softly spoken to her. Vows to love and cherish her always, to protect and be faithful to her no matter what the circumstance.

How could this be the same man who had ruthlessly shot his own father with an arrow not too long ago?

After five years, Ingulfrid can imagine only all too well. She is not surprised at the thought of Wihtgar threatening to kill a boy, killing a priest, killing his father.

He has never been violent to her. She supposes she should be thankful for that.

On the contrary, he had been just as loving and gentle as he had promised to be, at the beginning at least. As they grew used to each other, however, the dynamic changed. He became more cold, distant. She discovered that some of the freedoms she had once been able to enjoy, she could no longer.

Whatever spark that had been there at the beginning of their marriage has dissipated by now, and Ingulfrid has no one to turn to. Her brother Leif returned to Irland, her father and Sigtryggr, a month after her marriage, leaving her entirely alone with only her husband for company.

It is sometimes tense between the two of them. Ingulfrid is a clever woman, that much is obvious. Despite this, she is not allowed to take part, to offer counsel that may prove to be worthwhile, whenever the men get together and speak of important decisions to be made. At least she is allowed to listen in, she thinks.

The only thing that keeps them from drifting apart completely is their son. It is plain that he is Wihtgar’s pride and joy: little Uhtred is the only one capable of warming Wihtgar’s cold gaze. The Lord of Bebbanburg will stop at nothing to ensure his son is happy, sometimes even spending time with Ingulfrid - provided that their son sits between them.

Ingulfrid does not mind it too much. She has not loved Wihtgar for a long while now, but there is a certain level of respect that they share for one other. And at times like these, it does feel like they are a little family and she enjoys it, even if they are not as frequent as she would like them to be. Her son is what brings her happiness in this lonely place, and she loves him more than anything.

But even though there is no more love in her heart for Wihtgar, she sometimes looks at him and wonders what could have been.