Bridget and Annabeth exchanged fearful glances. “As you say, my lady” Bridget said. “Where is your pain? Do you believe the child is coming now?”
Ellowyn sighed. The pain had subsided somewhat but it was still there. “I do not know,” she admitted. “I have never had a child before. I do not know what it feels like other than I was told to expect pain when the child is delivered.”
As Bridget went to get water and a rag to wipe over her mistress to comfort her, Annabeth grasped Ellowyn’s hand.
“Would you like some wine?” she asked softly. “It might help ease you.”
Ellowyn shook her head, feeling exhausted and sleepy, and struggling to put the pain behind her. She could hear the battle down below, the shouts of men as they tried to kill one another. To know her husband was in that chaos did not help her state. She closed her eyes, trying to block it out.
“Nay,” she replied. “I believe I will try to go back to sleep. The pain seems to have lessened.”
Annabeth nodded silently, watching Ellowyn close her eyes. The truth was that she was terrified but she didn’t want Ellowyn to see it. They were trapped in a room as a battle waged below, and now her mistress was feeling childbirth pains well before the child’s due date. Under normal circumstances, either of those individual events would have been reason for panic. Indeed, there was much to be terrified over.
She began to pray.
*
The gatehouse breachhad proved to be a disaster for the French. Every man that came through the narrow gatehouse window met his death at the hands of Brandt or one of his knights. Then, the body would be hauled out by soldiers who would throw itover the walls. It had a hugely demoralizing effect on the army of Jean, and eventually, men stopped trying to climb through the hole because it was certain death. No one wanted to commit suicide.
The entire night of the siege saw more projectiles hurled over the wall. Giving up on the gatehouse, the king’s army focused their energy on the iron gates and the three successive portcullises, which was a futile endeavor. It only cost Jean more men. Melesse was truly an unbreachable fortress and at dawn on the second day, the king’s armies began to retreat.
Watching the pull-out from his post near the gatehouse as the sun began to rise, Brandt was exceptionally relieved as the French collected their dead and began to subside. But he was also leery. He turned to Dylan.
“They will be heading for Edward now,” he said with urgency in his voice. “Gather the men. Make sure everyone is fed and moderately rested. We must follow that army and provide Edward with support.”
“But I thought that the king wished to negotiate with Edward to avoid a big battle at Poitiers?” Dylan said. “Why would he move on to attack him now?”
Brandt cocked an eyebrow at the army retreating in the distance. “His actions in laying siege to my castle tell me that what the man says and what he intends are two different things,” he said. “We must hurry if we are going to prevent him from slaughtering Edward. Even after losing soldiers in this battle, he carries many more men than Edward does.”
“When do you wish to leave?”
“No more than four hours. See to it.”
Dylan nodded and began issuing orders. Brandt remained on the wall, watching the retreat to ensure they did not regroup and attack a second time, before his thoughts turned to his wife.The moment he saw her face in his mind’s eye, he could think of nothing else.
Descending the wall, he made his way across the littered and blasted bailey as he headed for the keep. He would spend a few hours with Ellowyn before heading out with the army. He was already relishing the time spent with her, eager to feel her in his arms. The battle with Jean had been a relatively short but particularly brutal one and he was anxious to get his mind off blood and pain and onto something soft and soothing.
The keep door was bolted and it took quite some time for the servants to work the bolts loose. Two big iron bolts liked to stick and Brandt stood impatiently on the doorstep as the big panel was opened. Once it swung loose, he shoved it open the rest of the way and stepped into the cool, musty interior.
As anxious as he was to see his wife, that enthusiasm was quickly doused when Annabeth met him at the door. She motioned for silence and left him standing in the hall as she came out of the room and shut the door softly behind her. As he opened his mouth to question her actions, she put her hands up again to quiet him.
“I must speak with you before you see your wife, my lord,” she whispered. “Lady Ellowyn awoke in great pain last evening. She would not let us send for you or the midwife. She has been in pain all night and has only now fallen back asleep. If the battle is indeed over, we must send for the midwife immediately.”
Brandt knees went weak. “Something is wrong?”
Annabeth lifted her shoulders. “We do not know,” she said. “Only the midwife can tell us. Will you please send for her, my lord?”
Brandt was on the run. He raced down the spiral stairs, through the keep entry, and down to the bailey. The first knight he came across was a lesser knight, helping with some repairs on the keep stairs, and he sent the man on the run into the town forthe midwife. Only a command from Brandt was able to open all three portcullises and the gate, and Brandt made sure the knight was well on his way before ordering the gates closed again and retreating back inside the keep.
All the while, his mind was a blank slate of distress. He could not think on Ellowyn or the child at the moment because it would surely cripple him and it was imperative that he keep his head. He had to remain calm and in control, but the truth was that he was feeling more panic than he had ever felt in his life.
Battles and kings and frightening men with weapons could do nothing to threaten his heart. But a lovely slip of a woman that he loved with every fiber of his being could. By the time he reached the second floor chamber, he was wiping the tears from his eyes. He just couldn’t fathom anything happening to Ellowyn or their child. He was emotional, exhausted, and distraught.
The chamber was very quiet as he entered. Bridget and Annabeth were sitting by the bed, their eyes big on Brandt as he entered the room. His gaze was riveted to his wife, curled up on her left side and sleeping peacefully. His eyes never left her as he pulled up a chair and sat next to Annabeth and Bridget, staring at Ellowyn as if afraid she were about to disappear. The tears he had been trying so hard to wipe away were back and they coursed down his cheeks as he stared at her.
Annabeth and Bridget watched in shock as the mighty Duke of Exeter crumbled. As Annabeth sat next to him, wondering how on earth she could provide the man with some comfort, Bridget rose to pour him a measure of wine. They were desperate to do something to comfort him. Brandt took the wine gratefully and gulped it down, so Bridget poured him another. She was pouring him a third cup when she noticed a figure in the slightly ajar door.
Brennan stood there, peering into the room. He was dirty and exhausted, his sea-blue eyes lined with circles. He lockedgazes with Bridget, so she carefully handed Brandt his third cup of wine and left the room, pushing Brennan back out into the darkened corridor. She shut the door softly behind her.
