she had been punched in the stomach. She recovered, with effort. "Tildie, 'tis me. 'Tis Ceidre. Your friend. I-" '
"This is all your fault," Tildie hissed. "You cursed me and the babe because I slapped youl Get away from me! Get this witch away from me!"
Rolfehanded the redhead toJohn and was at Ceidre's side. "Listen to me, mistress. I am your lord."
Tildie stared, tears streaking her face.
"She is no witch. She is going to give you a potion to calm you, then she will turn the babe. 'Tis my command."
Tildie began to weep. "I'm sorry." She sobbed. "Sorry. It's just that I'm so afraid . . . "
"Give her the potion,"Rolfe said tersely, his gaze riveted not on Tildie but upon Ceidre's face. Her expression, sick and stunned, twisted his gut into knots. He wished he could curse the foul wench for doing this to Ceidre, when she meant only good.
Ceidre recovered and, murmuring words of comfort, she administered the potion. Tildie was soon in a state of lethargy.Rolfe regarded her brisk efficiency, despite her being clearly upset. She did not shrink but boldly delved into the other's body, yet her touch was gentle. Tildie gasped in pain. Ceidre began to turn the babe, perspiration filming on her brow.Rolfe admired her in that moment greatly-she had immense courage. He reached out to blot a drop of sweat on her forehead before it interfered with her vision.
"There," Ceidre cried, relieved. "The babe is turned, it should not be long now."
"Well done,"Rolfe said quietly.
She glanced at him. His gaze was warm, unwavering. She flushed and concentrated on the task at hand.
Tildie's contractions were now strong enough to pop the babe out easily. Ceidre reached for the infant and knew instantly that it was dead.
It had strangled in the womb, its birth cord wrapped around its neck.
Ceidre blinked back tears and wrapped the infant in its swaddling.Rolfe reached down and took it from her. "I will bury it,"John said, resigned. He considered himself lucky to have four healthy children as it was.
Tildie opened her eyes. "My baby?"
Ceidre hesitated.Rolfe stepped into the breach.
"The babe could not survive. 'Twas not meant to be. He died in the womb."
"No!"
"I am sorry, but 'tis so. You are young and strong. God has gifted you with four healthy children, and if it Page 55
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
is His will, He will gift you with many more."
"No!"
Rolfetouched Ceidre's stiff shoulders. "It is time to go. There is nothing more you can do. She must grieve herself."
"I will give her a sleeping potion."
"No!" Tildie screamed, somehow raising herself up to a sitting position. "No! I want my baby! Give me my babe!"
Ceidre took Tildie's hand as she wept. "I'm sorry. Oh, Tildie, I tried . . ." She broke off, unable to continue, thinking that if she'd come sooner maybe she could have saved the baby. Her heart ached for her friend.
"Oh, my baby," Tildie moaned.
Johncame to his wife and Ceidre rose to her feet, brushing at tears. She really couldn't see, everything was a blur. She had tried, she knew that, she had done the best she could, yet . . . If only she had thought to check on Tildie that afternoon, if only she had come sooner. She escaped the dark, dank hut and gulped in the fresh night air. She realized she was running. She didn't care.
Chapter 15
She ran into the half-mown hayfield. "Ceidre-stop! "
Him! He was the last person in this world she wished to see. Ceidre kept running. She stumbled on the furrowed earth but did not fall. She heard him calling again. Stalks of hay tore strands of hair free from her braid and whipped her cheek. She reached the far side of the field and paused, gasping for breath, at the edge. of the dark, looming forest. Would he never leave her alone?
She rested a shoulder against the rough bark of an ancient oak, and her knees gave way. She curled her fingers into the dirt and swallowed a sob. Her world was spinning, Her breathing was still
"This is all your fault," Tildie hissed. "You cursed me and the babe because I slapped youl Get away from me! Get this witch away from me!"
Rolfehanded the redhead toJohn and was at Ceidre's side. "Listen to me, mistress. I am your lord."
Tildie stared, tears streaking her face.
"She is no witch. She is going to give you a potion to calm you, then she will turn the babe. 'Tis my command."
Tildie began to weep. "I'm sorry." She sobbed. "Sorry. It's just that I'm so afraid . . . "
"Give her the potion,"Rolfe said tersely, his gaze riveted not on Tildie but upon Ceidre's face. Her expression, sick and stunned, twisted his gut into knots. He wished he could curse the foul wench for doing this to Ceidre, when she meant only good.
Ceidre recovered and, murmuring words of comfort, she administered the potion. Tildie was soon in a state of lethargy.Rolfe regarded her brisk efficiency, despite her being clearly upset. She did not shrink but boldly delved into the other's body, yet her touch was gentle. Tildie gasped in pain. Ceidre began to turn the babe, perspiration filming on her brow.Rolfe admired her in that moment greatly-she had immense courage. He reached out to blot a drop of sweat on her forehead before it interfered with her vision.
"There," Ceidre cried, relieved. "The babe is turned, it should not be long now."
"Well done,"Rolfe said quietly.
She glanced at him. His gaze was warm, unwavering. She flushed and concentrated on the task at hand.
Tildie's contractions were now strong enough to pop the babe out easily. Ceidre reached for the infant and knew instantly that it was dead.
It had strangled in the womb, its birth cord wrapped around its neck.
Ceidre blinked back tears and wrapped the infant in its swaddling.Rolfe reached down and took it from her. "I will bury it,"John said, resigned. He considered himself lucky to have four healthy children as it was.
Tildie opened her eyes. "My baby?"
Ceidre hesitated.Rolfe stepped into the breach.
"The babe could not survive. 'Twas not meant to be. He died in the womb."
"No!"
"I am sorry, but 'tis so. You are young and strong. God has gifted you with four healthy children, and if it Page 55
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
is His will, He will gift you with many more."
"No!"
Rolfetouched Ceidre's stiff shoulders. "It is time to go. There is nothing more you can do. She must grieve herself."
"I will give her a sleeping potion."
"No!" Tildie screamed, somehow raising herself up to a sitting position. "No! I want my baby! Give me my babe!"
Ceidre took Tildie's hand as she wept. "I'm sorry. Oh, Tildie, I tried . . ." She broke off, unable to continue, thinking that if she'd come sooner maybe she could have saved the baby. Her heart ached for her friend.
"Oh, my baby," Tildie moaned.
Johncame to his wife and Ceidre rose to her feet, brushing at tears. She really couldn't see, everything was a blur. She had tried, she knew that, she had done the best she could, yet . . . If only she had thought to check on Tildie that afternoon, if only she had come sooner. She escaped the dark, dank hut and gulped in the fresh night air. She realized she was running. She didn't care.
Chapter 15
She ran into the half-mown hayfield. "Ceidre-stop! "
Him! He was the last person in this world she wished to see. Ceidre kept running. She stumbled on the furrowed earth but did not fall. She heard him calling again. Stalks of hay tore strands of hair free from her braid and whipped her cheek. She reached the far side of the field and paused, gasping for breath, at the edge. of the dark, looming forest. Would he never leave her alone?
She rested a shoulder against the rough bark of an ancient oak, and her knees gave way. She curled her fingers into the dirt and swallowed a sob. Her world was spinning, Her breathing was still
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