“It’s spring … Snowdrop is giving a lot of milk at the moment,” Osana replied. “Look. She filled the bucket to the brim.”
Hagona gave a snort. “Well, pour us a cup each then. The bread’s ready.”
Osana carried the pail over to the scrubbed wooden table that stretched down the western wall of the dwelling. There, she took a ladle and two wooden cups before filling them. Meanwhile, Hagona had torn the freshly baked bread in two and was sitting by the hearth, a wooden platter on her knee. She was slathering the bread with butter and honey.
Osana’s mouth quirked. Her aunt was a tiny woman without an ounce of fat on her, yet she ate like a famished hound. Granted though, Hagona worked hard too. Osana rarely saw her rest during the day.
Joining her aunt, Osana passed her a cup of milk and took a seat opposite. But when she lifted the cup to her lips, she stopped. The warm rich scent of milk made her gorge rise.
Swallowing, Osana lowered the cup.
Hagona glanced up, her mouth full of bread. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Her aunt’s brow furrowed. “The milk doesn’t taste bad, does it? The goat hasn’t been eating buttercup again I hope.”
Osana shook her head. “It’s fine, aunt.”
“So why don’t you drink it?”
Osana lifted the cup to her lips once more and forced herself to sip. This time, nausea hit her in a wave. She gagged, slapping a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from being sick.
Across the hearth, Hagona went still.
“God’s bones, girl … anyone would think you were with child.”
A chill settled over Osana.
That’s impossible.She was barren—the healer in Hagustaldes had told her so. In all her years with Raedwulf, her womb had never quickened, while he had sired a number of bastards in the surrounding village.
She had now missed two moon flows, although since her cycle had never been regular, she had not thought much of it.
She did now.
“It can’t be Raedwulf’s,” her aunt said, her thin face turning thoughtful before her eyes widened. “That’s why you came to live here, isn’t it? You were running from someone.”
“No,” Osana replied quickly, although the sharpness of her tone and the speed of her answer merely confirmed her aunt’s theory.
Hagona’s mouth compressed. “Who is he?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“He’s wedded then.”
Osana shook her head. “Please leave it be, aunt.”
Hagona drew herself up. “You’re a guest under my roof. You’ll have no secrets from me.”
Osana set aside her cup and untouched platter of bread and rose to her feet. Nausea warred with confusion and panic now. She could not bear her aunt’s nagging. “Some things are best not spoken of,” she replied firmly as she tried to gather her scattered wits.“Please … I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”
Her aunt’s mouth thinned. Hagona was not so easily put off. “We’ll see about that,” she muttered.
Jedworth’s healer confirmed what Osana already knew in her bones to be true. The elderly woman had run her hands over Osana’s abdomen and asked her a few questions before giving a brisk nod.
“Aye, lass … you’re with child.”
Shortly after, Osana stumbled from the woman’s hovel, which was located near Jedworth’s south gate, her mind whirling, her stomach churning. Panicked sweat beaded her skin. She could never tell Hagona who the father of the child was; she could speak of it to no one here.
