someone else. The wench is overtired."
Ceidre felt a rush of anger, and paused before the stairwell to face him. "There is no one else, my lord,"
she said very firmly. "I need my pouch."
Rolfestared, then barked a command atAthelstan . The Saxon hurried upstairs to fetch the herbs while Ceidre waited, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. If he would order her to remain abed and not tend Tildie, she would disobey, but he said nothing-he only stared.Athelstan returned and handed her the pouch.
Ceidre grabbed it and hurried out into the night.
They were at the cottage five minutes later, Tildie's moans carrying outside. Her four children, ranging from three to ten, sat huddled in the single room, the five-year-old crying. "Hush, sweeting," Ceidre said, placing a hand on the boy's head. "Your mama will be fine. Hush now."
She looked atJohn . "Comfort them."
Tildie was drenched with sweat. Her waters had already broken. She thrashed and moaned, her contractions close together, but the baby would not come. Ceidre saw instantly what the problem was.
The babe was a breech, turned completely around, trying to leave the womb feet first. 'Twas not good.
"I will have to turn the babe around," she said toJohn , without looking at him.
"Have you ever done such a thing before?"Rolfe asked.
Ceidre gasped, stunned that theNorman had followed them. He stood in the middle of the small cottage, seeming to take up every inch of its entire space. He had thrown his sinister black mantle over his bare torso, but had only slipped shoes, not chausses, on. Now Ceidre understood why the hut had become so very quiet. The children were gaping, bug-eyed. EvenJohn was stunned, immobile.
"Once," she answered, turning back to Tildie and stroking her brow. "If you are here, fetch me fresh Page 53
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water and clean rags and soap." Tildie had fainted.
"I will get them,"John said, clearly relieved to flee.
"How is she?"Rolfe asked, not moving from where he stood.
"She has fainted. She is better off. Now she can rest a bit before the real work begins." Ceidre kept stroking her brow.
The five-year-old redhead began to cry again, pitifully, calling "Mama, Mama."
Ceidre, kneeling by the pallet, twisted to soothe the little boy. She stopped, amazed, to seeRolfe stroke his big hand through the child's curls. She had never seen him gentle before, had never even thought he could be gentle-but he was. "Viens a moi, petit, " he said, his voice low, comforting. "Do you know who I am?"
The boy blinked, staring. "N-no."
'Tis our lord," hissed the eldest, a girl of ten.
Rolferewarded the girl with a smile, then lifted the redhead into his arms. "She is right, I am your lord, Rolfe of Warenne. Do you know where Warenne is?"
The little boy shook his head, staring, awed, intoRolfe 's face, so close to his.
'Tis far away, across the sea. Would you like to know how I came to be here, how I crossed the sea on a big boat with all my men?"
He nodded.
Relieved, and still amazed, Ceidre turned back to Tildie, listening toRolfe as he began the story, thankfully omitting all political details, his voice low and rich and soothing.John entered and handed her the items she had requested. Ceidre washed her hands and began wiping Tildie's brow. The woman started to revive.
"Tildie?" Ceidre leaned forward. "'Tis Ceidre. I am going to try and turn the babe. He's facing the wrong way, and it must be done."
Tildie opened her eyes.
Ceidre smiled. She reached out to stroke her temple again. Tildie cried out and shrank away. Ceidre froze.Rolfe halted in midsentence, andJohn and the children all stared.
"No!"
"Tildie-"
"No! Don't touch me! Please, don't!" She began to weep.
Ceidre hesitated only for a fraction. "She's overwrought. I'll give her a potion."
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"No! I won't take your witch's brew!"
Ceidre felt as if
Ceidre felt a rush of anger, and paused before the stairwell to face him. "There is no one else, my lord,"
she said very firmly. "I need my pouch."
Rolfestared, then barked a command atAthelstan . The Saxon hurried upstairs to fetch the herbs while Ceidre waited, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. If he would order her to remain abed and not tend Tildie, she would disobey, but he said nothing-he only stared.Athelstan returned and handed her the pouch.
Ceidre grabbed it and hurried out into the night.
They were at the cottage five minutes later, Tildie's moans carrying outside. Her four children, ranging from three to ten, sat huddled in the single room, the five-year-old crying. "Hush, sweeting," Ceidre said, placing a hand on the boy's head. "Your mama will be fine. Hush now."
She looked atJohn . "Comfort them."
Tildie was drenched with sweat. Her waters had already broken. She thrashed and moaned, her contractions close together, but the baby would not come. Ceidre saw instantly what the problem was.
The babe was a breech, turned completely around, trying to leave the womb feet first. 'Twas not good.
"I will have to turn the babe around," she said toJohn , without looking at him.
"Have you ever done such a thing before?"Rolfe asked.
Ceidre gasped, stunned that theNorman had followed them. He stood in the middle of the small cottage, seeming to take up every inch of its entire space. He had thrown his sinister black mantle over his bare torso, but had only slipped shoes, not chausses, on. Now Ceidre understood why the hut had become so very quiet. The children were gaping, bug-eyed. EvenJohn was stunned, immobile.
"Once," she answered, turning back to Tildie and stroking her brow. "If you are here, fetch me fresh Page 53
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
water and clean rags and soap." Tildie had fainted.
"I will get them,"John said, clearly relieved to flee.
"How is she?"Rolfe asked, not moving from where he stood.
"She has fainted. She is better off. Now she can rest a bit before the real work begins." Ceidre kept stroking her brow.
The five-year-old redhead began to cry again, pitifully, calling "Mama, Mama."
Ceidre, kneeling by the pallet, twisted to soothe the little boy. She stopped, amazed, to seeRolfe stroke his big hand through the child's curls. She had never seen him gentle before, had never even thought he could be gentle-but he was. "Viens a moi, petit, " he said, his voice low, comforting. "Do you know who I am?"
The boy blinked, staring. "N-no."
'Tis our lord," hissed the eldest, a girl of ten.
Rolferewarded the girl with a smile, then lifted the redhead into his arms. "She is right, I am your lord, Rolfe of Warenne. Do you know where Warenne is?"
The little boy shook his head, staring, awed, intoRolfe 's face, so close to his.
'Tis far away, across the sea. Would you like to know how I came to be here, how I crossed the sea on a big boat with all my men?"
He nodded.
Relieved, and still amazed, Ceidre turned back to Tildie, listening toRolfe as he began the story, thankfully omitting all political details, his voice low and rich and soothing.John entered and handed her the items she had requested. Ceidre washed her hands and began wiping Tildie's brow. The woman started to revive.
"Tildie?" Ceidre leaned forward. "'Tis Ceidre. I am going to try and turn the babe. He's facing the wrong way, and it must be done."
Tildie opened her eyes.
Ceidre smiled. She reached out to stroke her temple again. Tildie cried out and shrank away. Ceidre froze.Rolfe halted in midsentence, andJohn and the children all stared.
"No!"
"Tildie-"
"No! Don't touch me! Please, don't!" She began to weep.
Ceidre hesitated only for a fraction. "She's overwrought. I'll give her a potion."
Page 54
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"No! I won't take your witch's brew!"
Ceidre felt as if
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