“Yea. I would not have come here, but I have never in my life helped with a birthing, and I am too old to start now. Yet I wanted to do something. This is my first grandchild!”
“I understand,” Brenna said in bewilderment. She would have thought this strong woman could face any aspect of life with a smile. It was difficult to see her so distraught now.
“Her pains began this morn,” Heloise continued nervously, “yet she told no one until eventide. Now she screams for you. Hurry, Brenna.”
Even as she said the words, Brenna unthinkingly threw off the blanket and grabbed her cloak. It was then that Heloise saw her fully. The five months of swelling could not be mistaken.
“In the name of God, Brenna!” Heloise gasped. “Why did you not tell us you were also with child?”
It was too late to regret her carelessness, but Brenna sighed miserably nonetheless. “We will speak of it later. There is a child to be born now. Mine will not come till winter.”
“Wait, Brenna.” Heloise put up a hand. “This is Cordella’s first child. Mayhaps you should not go to her. ’Tis best not to know what you will also have to endure.”
“I have seen birth before, milady, in the village at home. I know ’tis long and painful. Cordella wants me to be with her. She and I have never been close, but this is the least I can do for her.”
Cordella’s labor lasted through the night—long, tortuous hours which played on everyone’s nerves. Heloise was especially fretful as screams from the servants’ quarters drifted into the hall, cries so low and agonizing that they did not sound human.
Had she screamed so horribly the five times she gave birth? It would explain why Anselm was always so pale when she would see him afterward, as if he had endured more than she. Yet toward the end her suffering had lessened, thanks to a potion made by a loyal slave from the Far East. If only that slave had revealed her magic before she died, then Cordella too would be ignorant of her pain and not fear any future children.
Streams of sunlight followed Brenna into the hall. She looked pitifully haggard, as if she had suffered Cordella’s pain as well. Her shift was soaked with sweat, her beautiful raven hair matted and stringy. Heloise barely recognized her.
“I did not notice that the screams have ceased. Is—is Cordella—the child—”
“All is well, milady,” Brenna said, and collapsed into Anselm’s thronelike chair. Her voice was weak, her eyes dull. “You have a fine grandson and Cordella now sleeps peacefully. My aunt and Uda are tending the child.”
“A grandson! Hugh will be so pleased. And my husband, he will burst with pride!”
“More important,” Brenna added bitterly, “the child is healthy. This baby will not be judged. He will live.”
Heloise fell silent for a long moment, then she asked in a whisper, “You know?”
“Yea, I know. You asked me earlier why I did not tell anyone of the child I carry. This is why. I will not be forced to stay here and bear my baby in this land, where its life depends on its strength.”
“I know ’tis a harsh custom, Brenna. I did not know of it myself until recently. I lost two children at birth before I had my fifth child,” she said in a voice choked with memories.
“Did they die naturally?”
“I was told they did. When I learned of the custom, doubt was raised in my mind. Yet I could never bring myself to question Anselm. My third child that survived was born weak, but Anselm knew how much I wanted that baby, after losing two before it. That child lived for many years before she too died.”
“I know the story, milady. I am sorry.”
“I wanted to die when my daughter died,” Heloise said hollowly. “’Twould have been better if I had not known her. She was not meant to live.”
“You are wrong!” Brenna snapped, overly harsh. “’Twas cruel fate that took her from you. You must have fond memories of her. And she had the right to know life, however briefly. I cannot condone this custom. My baby will not be born here!”
“I know my husband, Brenna. He will not take you home now, at least not until after the child is born.”
“In winter!”
“’Twill have to be the following spring.”
“Nay!” Brenna cried, standing up so quickly that her chair nearly toppled over. “He promised!”
“You must think of the child now. If there was a storm at sea, you could lose it.”
“Iamthinking of the child!”
“Brenna, you are a strong woman. Your baby will be strong. There is no reason to fear for it.”
