Dim light entered her rooms now; the curtains would keep back most of it anyway.
“’Tis nearly noon, Anice.”
Noon? So if he was a day’s travel from Dunnedin yesterday evening, he was only hours away now. Did Struan travel to meet him even now? What could he say? Mayhap, he was going just to escort Sandy home. Struan promised she’d be safe so she must leave it in his hands and concentrate ondelivering her son.
“Will he come soon then?”
“He? Who do ye speak of, lass?” Ada’s warm hands lifted the hair away from her face and straightened her pillow again.
“The babe... my son,” she answered.
“Being a man, he is taking his own sweet time,” Firtha said. Soft laughter filled the room for a few moments, a change from the tension there. “Do ye think this will be a boy, Anice?”
“I know it, Firtha. ’Tis the heir of the clan I carry.”
Silence greeted her words and she knew not if it was in disbelief or in acceptance, but no one argued with her. She shifted herself on the bed and tried to push herself up. Arms behind her helped her to sit, and pillows were positioned to support her.
“’Tis hard to say how much longer this will take, lass,” Ada finally answered her question. “A first birth can take many hours, even days.”
“But ’tis too soon for him. This should not happen for many more weeks.”
Neither woman answered her unspoken question—would the babe live? Anice knew that no one could promise her that. She only hoped that her endless prayers to the Almighty had been heard and would be answered.
“Come now, Anice. I think that walking will do ye some good. Here, now, let us help ye.”
After a few minutes of rearranging and changing nightrails and brushing hair, Anice put her feet on the floor and stood. Her legs wobbled beneath her and it took much support of Ada and Firtha to hold her up. Taking a step at a time, she made it over to a chair just as the next pain hit. Listening to her helpers, she blew her breath out hard as the cramp increased and increased, until she thought she would scream. Just as she reached her limit, the pain subsided and she could breathe once again.
“’Tis a bit easier sitting here than lying in bed,” she said.
A sound across the room caught her attention and she looked up into Robert’s eyes. His skin was a bit sallow and his cheeks bore the growth of at least a day’s beard—that he had not shaved, as was his manner, was obvious. He swallowedseveral times as though trying to speak.
“She is awake now, Robert,” Firtha said.
“Aye, I can see as much. How do ye fare, my... Anice?”
She could not think of how to answer so she just nodded.
“I will check back with ye later, Ada,” he said as he backed from the room.
“Men!” Firtha laughed. “They dinna mind being part of the fun of the making a bairn, but they dinna want to be near at the work of the birthing.” Ada joined Firtha for a moment, but they both stopped when they looked at Anice. Firtha remembered the origins of this bairn, ’twas there plainly on her face, and Ada must have guessed for ’twas on hers as well.
The next hours passed as the last one had; the contractions grew stronger each time, followed by shorter and shorter respites between. She sat, she stood, she walked as they ordered, for she could not keep any sensible thoughts in her mind. Different women attended her as well, Rachelle and some others from the clan came and went, bringing in food and drink and fresh linens from time to time. But even in this time of need she could tolerate no one’s touch but Firtha’s and Ada’s. And when Rachelle revealed that she too was carrying, Anice ordered her from the room for fear that her pain would frighten the woman too much.
Robert did come back and at shorter intervals and for shorter visits, if that was possible. He never said much, just stared at her for a moment and, when assured all was moving forward as it should, he left. She had some bit of memory of him being in the chamber with her, she could almost hear his voice, but Anice did not think it really happened.
Then, at nightfall, the bleeding began. At first, Ada and Firtha exchanged glances and reassured her that all was well.
Now, though, she knew by their expressions and guarded words that all was not. After submitting to their probing and touching in places she would rather not think about, their faces said it all. The babe was not coming. And the bleeding was increasing with each contraction.
Soon, with her strength gone, she no longer could remain sitting and had to lie in bed as she faced each ensuing wave of agony. Knowing that her chances of surviving this werelessening with each tormenting pain, Anice let go of her control and screamed out her anguish.
The soundof her scream echoed through the halls and rooms of the third floor and through his soul. How long could she survive this? His visits to her chambers only made it clearer—Anice and the babe would die this night. He did not consider himself a particularly religious man—oh, aye, he did his duty and followed the rules of the church, but his conversations with the Almighty were few and far between in actuality. He had spoken to Him more this last day and night than in the last ten years of his life, and all for her.
Moira could have prevented this or, at the least, eased Anice’s way through the birth. But she was not there. Leaving Ada in her stead had not seemed a bad thing to do since the old one had some healing skills. Now it looked as though Anice and her babe would die because of Moira’s absence.
He shook his head as he walked slowly down the hallway towards Anice’s chamber. Moira must have known this would happen. Her wisdom would not have failed her in such an important matter of the clan. Why had she chosen this time to leave? He knew about Moira’s sister and her problems, but this just did not ring true to Moira’s commitment to the MacKendimens. Something in this was wrong.
He grasped the door’s knob and turned it. Part of him feared what he would find within, but he had to see to her as Struan ordered. The scene before him in the room bore out his worst fears. Anice lay still on the bed; he stared at her chest and could barely make out the rise and fall of it. Ada gathered a pile of bloody sheets and tossed them into a basket at the foot of the bed.
