“No…no, Brody, dinna leave me,” was all Tira could muster through the pain as she heard footfalls running up the steps. “Dinna leave me…”
“She’swhat,man?”
Gavin’s outburst sent Errol striding toward the stern, the wind whipping at his dark red hair and slapping the towering square sail overhead against the mast.
His heart pounded in his chest to have seen Brody lunge out of the cargo well and run straightaway to Gavin at the helm, Errol’s intuition filling him with dread.
He didn’t need to hear whatever Brody had said to know that Tira’s labor had begun, the helmsman’s and Gavin’s expressions tellingly somber as Errol reached them.
“I thought I told you tae stand lookout at the prow, Sutherland?—”
“It’s the bairn, aye?” Errol ignored Gavin’s frown and focused upon Brody, who nodded, sweat beading his forehead.
“I fear the pains have begun—och, it’s been years since I’ve helped bring a babe into the world, and only that one time. My own mother with my youngest brother when I was a lad of fourteen.”
“But you can manage it, aye?” Gavin demanded before Errol could utter the same thought, Brody looking at them with some uncertainty.
“Mayhap…I dinna know. If she has an easy time of it, aye—but if there’s any trouble…”
Brody didn’t finish, his usual ruddy complexion grown a bit pale. Now Gavin and Errol cursed in unison while Brody turned around to stare at the crew. To a man, every one of them suddenly became very intent upon their rowing.
“Have any of you ever helped at a birth?”
No one spoke up, the buffeting wind and the slap of the oars the only sound other than more curses filling the air from Gavin, Errol, and Brody…followed by a high-pitched scream that raised the hair on the back of Errol’s neck.
“God help us, her pains are getting worse already,” was all Brody muttered before making the sign of the Cross over himself and fixing his squinty gaze upon Gavin. “Even if all goes well, the lass looks as if she hasna eaten well enough in days tae have milk tae feed her bairn. She will need a wet nurse?—”
“Aye, then, we’ll make straight for Argyllshire rather than Dumbarton, a half day’s journey instead of two more. We should be there after nightfall.” Another piercing scream made Gavin wince, his gaze shifting to Errol. “Cora will know what tae do, and your lady is welcome tae stay at my home as long as she needs—och, Brody, will you go back tae the poor lass now?”
A brusque nod was the only answer, the helmsman seeming to square his shoulders as he headed toward the cargo well withErrol following close behind. That made Brody stop in his tracks and spin around to face him, his expression stern.
“She says she canna see you, Errol—och, who can say when that will change? If it’s any comfort tae you, she did call out your name not long after she awoke, but she’s stricken with shame.”
“Shame?” Errol echoed with frustration, trying to move past Brody only for the helmsman to grab him with a muscular arm. “If I canna see her, how can I tell her everything that’s happened tae her doesna matter tae me? How can I tell Tira I love her? I should be with her tae help her, comfort her—do something for her!” Growing incensed now when Brody wouldn’t release him, Errol moved his free hand to the hilt of his sword. “Get out of my way?—”
“By God, Sutherland, will you threaten my helmsman and friend?” came Gavin’s outraged query from where he stood with his fist clenched upon the helm. “Where are your wits, man? Think with your head and not your heart and let him return tae your lady. Will you have Tira give birth all alone in that stinking hole?”
Errol dropped his hand from his sword, the very sound of her name dousing his fury as if he had been thrown overboard into the cold sea.
“Forgive me,” he murmured, Brody acknowledging his apology with a slight nod of his head as he let go of Errol’s arm. The helmsman threw back the canvas and headed down the first few steps—the flap pointedly pulled back into place before Errol could catch a glimpse of Tira.
“You’re an impulsive fool, Sutherland—och, but what man isna when it comes tae the woman he loves? Get back tae the prow and keep watch for any English sails. We’re soon tae do battle with King Edward, remember?”
Errol gave no reply to Gavin, a choking lump in his throat at another scream that spurred him reluctantly across the deck.
Tira’s anguished cries making the crew pull harder on their oars as Gavin steered the ship closer to land while the two birlinns following in their wake changed course as well.
Errol shielded his eyes from the bright midday sun, grateful for a task that nonetheless could not keep his mind from Tira.
He had heard the throes of childbirth emanating from his three elder brothers’ homes over the past few years: Two of the wives shrieking to the heavens during their labor while the third one had whimpered and wept and prayed loudly for deliverance…but none of it sounded like what carried to him again from the cargo well.
Tira’s agony sounded almost animal-like, aye, as if she were being torn asunder. He had not seen a stomach so big upon any of his brothers’ wives, or any woman for that matter, and Errol wondered if mayhap there were two bairns vying to be born—one of them more vigorous than the other and fighting to be first.
The thought made him grimace, Tira so thin and fragile that he feared mayhap she would not survive the battle—ah, God,no, he wouldn’t think of it!
His heart like a battering ram against his chest, Errol forced himself to stare instead out at the sunlit sea as he had been ordered.
Gavin MacLachlan was the commander of King Robert’s three ships after all, and with his own fleet of twenty more birlinns since he had been awarded the title of baron seven years ago. Gavin had told him that his home in Argyll wasn’t an ordinary one, but an impregnable castle built upon a hill overlooking the sea with a harbor large enough for all of his ships that protected the western coast of Scotland from English invasion.
