told him of her difficulty.
Narrowing his eyes, he looked her up and down, then strode from his post to kick one of the knights who was rolled in his cloak near the fire. 'Hoi, Geoff, that little wife of yours has started with the babe. Take this lass and find the midwife.'
A young man sat up, yawning and knuckling his eyes. He had a mass of sleep-mussed curly blond hair and regular, but plain, features. When he stood up, he was a little below average height and stockily built, the hint of a bow to his short legs. Catrin warmed to him immediately. Edon's paragon was an ordinary man, his Adonis-like appearance a figment of his wife's over-fertile imagination.
'Edon, is she all right?' he demanded anxiously as he stumbled over the other sleepers and, latching his swordbelt, arrived at Catrin's side.
'Yes, of course she is,' Catrin said, with a silent apology to God for the lie. 'But she needs the midwife, and I have to find her.'
He dropped his scabbard with a clatter and, stifling an oath, picked it up again, fumbling with the lacings and causing Catrin to wonder anew at the human propensity for self-deception.
'It's too soon, isn't it?' Still fastening the leather strips, he followed her out into the summer darkness.
'Babies come when they will,' Catrin answered evasively. 'It is always hard to tell in the last month.'
'Is she in pain?'
'A little back-ache. Do you know where to find Dame Etheldreda?'
He nodded and led her across the bailey at a rapid walk, his anxiety tangible. Clearly Edon's worship was reciprocated and Geoffrey FitzMar saw his wife as a fair and flawless lady dwelling in her ivory tower. And how each viewed the other probably increased their confidence to face the world.
He led her to the second bailey. Fire embers glowed red, and here and there people were still awake. A fractious infant wailed. Dice clattered in a wooden cup and wine sloshed from flagon to drinking horn. Under a blanket, two forms moved together, one moaning softly on each upward stroke.
Geoffrey cleared his throat and steered her aside from the lovemaking couple.
They came to Etheldreda's fire. The old woman was still wide awake and busy grinding dried leaves with a pestle and mortar, but she set her work down the moment that she saw Catrin and her escort. Almost before Catrin had told her the news, she was reaching for her satchel and cloak.
'Always come in the dead of night, they do,' Ethel said, and then gave Geoffrey a nudge. 'Mind you, with a first babe, you'll be lucky to greet the sprog much before next dusk. Slow down, young man. My legs don't have the same spring as yours.'
Catrin and Ethel left a thoroughly unsettled Geoffrey in the great hall, and mounted the stairs to the bower. Ethel paused frequently to rest and breathlessly cursed her own failing body. 'Once I'd ha' run up these like a deer,' she panted. 'Time and past time I had someone to help me.' Fumbling in her satchel, she unstoppered a small flask and took several swallows. 'Lily of the valley,' she said. 'Sometimes it works, sometimes it don't. Come, wench, we've a babe to deliver.'
Harbouring misgivings at the 'we', Catrin led Etheldreda into the women's bower.
Edon had decided that she did not want to bear a child. The romance of impending motherhood had been replaced by the reality, and she was made furious by the indignities visited on her body, and terrified by the increasingly powerful surges of pain.
She swore at Etheldreda and she swore at Catrin, setting the blame firmly on their shoulders. Then in the next moment, she was pleading with them to help her.
'You're spoiled, m'girl, that's your trouble. Never had to face the world before, have you?' Ethel said, but not unkindly. 'Here, swallow this brew to keep up your strength. You're going to be a while yet.'
'You cheated me, you hag. The eagle stone doesn't work!'
'Mistress, it works as much as you will it to do so,' Ethel said with a glance across the bed at Catrin. 'What do you expect
Narrowing his eyes, he looked her up and down, then strode from his post to kick one of the knights who was rolled in his cloak near the fire. 'Hoi, Geoff, that little wife of yours has started with the babe. Take this lass and find the midwife.'
A young man sat up, yawning and knuckling his eyes. He had a mass of sleep-mussed curly blond hair and regular, but plain, features. When he stood up, he was a little below average height and stockily built, the hint of a bow to his short legs. Catrin warmed to him immediately. Edon's paragon was an ordinary man, his Adonis-like appearance a figment of his wife's over-fertile imagination.
'Edon, is she all right?' he demanded anxiously as he stumbled over the other sleepers and, latching his swordbelt, arrived at Catrin's side.
'Yes, of course she is,' Catrin said, with a silent apology to God for the lie. 'But she needs the midwife, and I have to find her.'
He dropped his scabbard with a clatter and, stifling an oath, picked it up again, fumbling with the lacings and causing Catrin to wonder anew at the human propensity for self-deception.
'It's too soon, isn't it?' Still fastening the leather strips, he followed her out into the summer darkness.
'Babies come when they will,' Catrin answered evasively. 'It is always hard to tell in the last month.'
'Is she in pain?'
'A little back-ache. Do you know where to find Dame Etheldreda?'
He nodded and led her across the bailey at a rapid walk, his anxiety tangible. Clearly Edon's worship was reciprocated and Geoffrey FitzMar saw his wife as a fair and flawless lady dwelling in her ivory tower. And how each viewed the other probably increased their confidence to face the world.
He led her to the second bailey. Fire embers glowed red, and here and there people were still awake. A fractious infant wailed. Dice clattered in a wooden cup and wine sloshed from flagon to drinking horn. Under a blanket, two forms moved together, one moaning softly on each upward stroke.
Geoffrey cleared his throat and steered her aside from the lovemaking couple.
They came to Etheldreda's fire. The old woman was still wide awake and busy grinding dried leaves with a pestle and mortar, but she set her work down the moment that she saw Catrin and her escort. Almost before Catrin had told her the news, she was reaching for her satchel and cloak.
'Always come in the dead of night, they do,' Ethel said, and then gave Geoffrey a nudge. 'Mind you, with a first babe, you'll be lucky to greet the sprog much before next dusk. Slow down, young man. My legs don't have the same spring as yours.'
Catrin and Ethel left a thoroughly unsettled Geoffrey in the great hall, and mounted the stairs to the bower. Ethel paused frequently to rest and breathlessly cursed her own failing body. 'Once I'd ha' run up these like a deer,' she panted. 'Time and past time I had someone to help me.' Fumbling in her satchel, she unstoppered a small flask and took several swallows. 'Lily of the valley,' she said. 'Sometimes it works, sometimes it don't. Come, wench, we've a babe to deliver.'
Harbouring misgivings at the 'we', Catrin led Etheldreda into the women's bower.
Edon had decided that she did not want to bear a child. The romance of impending motherhood had been replaced by the reality, and she was made furious by the indignities visited on her body, and terrified by the increasingly powerful surges of pain.
She swore at Etheldreda and she swore at Catrin, setting the blame firmly on their shoulders. Then in the next moment, she was pleading with them to help her.
'You're spoiled, m'girl, that's your trouble. Never had to face the world before, have you?' Ethel said, but not unkindly. 'Here, swallow this brew to keep up your strength. You're going to be a while yet.'
'You cheated me, you hag. The eagle stone doesn't work!'
'Mistress, it works as much as you will it to do so,' Ethel said with a glance across the bed at Catrin. 'What do you expect
Similar Books
