The Master and the Sorceress

by Bernadette Rowley

  “Miss Katrine, it’s me, Harah!”

  “Harah? What’s wrong?” Kat struggled to shake off the dream and the fear.

  “There is a man here—Master Tomel the jeweler. He says he needs your help.”

  “Oh, more night hounds I suppose.” Kat climbed from the bed and pulled on her breeches and shirt.

  Harah frowned. “What’s this talk of night hounds?”

  “Oh…” She was a ninny and half asleep still. “Just talking rubbish. I must have been having a nightmare.”

  “I don’t like the idea of you going into the night with a man, even one as respectable as Master Tomel.” Harah stood wringing her hands. “What would your sister say?”

  What indeed? Kat could imagine Esta being overjoyed—happily shoving her at the first man who called. No, that wasn’t true. Esta cared for her and wished only for her happiness, but Kat also knew her melancholy weighed on Esta. She would be grateful if a man could make Kat happy. Listen to me! My head is a mess! Silly, silly, silly woman!

  “No need to be concerned, Harah. All will be well. I shall send you word in the morning.”

  Kat squeezed the older woman’s shoulder and slipped from the room. She retrieved her cloak from a hook near the front door and slipped out into the street. James was a shadowy figure, standing by his trap and pony.

  “You came!” he said, reaching out and helping her up onto the seat of his cart. “I worried it might be too much to ask.” He hauled himself up beside her.

  “I don’t know what you want, James, but when someone asks for help at this hour, it’s usually urgent.”

  “That it is. My maid Eva is having her babe. You were the only person I could think of.”

  Kat couldn’t help her squeak of dismay. “Birthing a child? I have no experience with that, sir! Well, except for calves and piglets, but it’s hardly the same thing. Where’s the midwife?”

  James failed to look at her, but it was too dark to see his face anyway. “The midwife can’t be found, and Mistress Lary needs help.”

  “Well then, your mother, or a sister? There must be someone other than me!” Even the Crystal Chamber hadn’t scared her this much.

  “I don’t have a sister, only six brothers, and my mother is too far away. You will cope with the ordeal fine if your encounter with the night hound is any indication.”

  “This is different, James. This is responsibility for the life of another being.”

  He released his grip on the reins and held her shaking hands, the warmth penetrating her skin like fire. It was nice on this cold night, comforting. His mention of the legendary creature had her peering into the dark alleys they passed, but the sure step of the pony reassured her there was nothing to fear there—not at the moment.

  Kat closed her eyes, huddled in her cloak, and tried to accept James’s faith in her was not misplaced. He was only fetching her to hold the maid’s hand, not to do any real delivering. All would be well. Soon there would be a new life, and she could return to the cottage. It was about time she got Claus and Harah packed up and on their way before James dragged her into any more danger. Already, she was enjoying holding his hand a little too much. As if he discerned her thoughts, he squeezed her hands, but, when she glanced across at him, she found him concentrating on the road ahead.

  The little cart bounced along at such a brisk pace it was no time before they arrived at James’s manor house. He helped her down from the conveyance and ushered her up the steps and into the entry of the house. A shrill scream sounded from within. Kat froze and pulled her hand from his grasp.

  “I don’t want to do this. Please, there must be another alternative.” Her body trembled like she had a fever, and she tasted bile.

  “Women have an instinct when it comes to birthing babies. Come, even if you only hold her hand.”

  Kat hung back, her arms across her middle. “Not this woman. I have no instinct; not for this.” Hetty had never taught her aught about delivering a babe and nor had her mother.

  But James again grasped her hand and drew her down a hall to a room at the end. He knocked and opened the door, pulling Kat with him and closing the door behind them. She froze again as she took in the sight before her. A young woman lay on the big bed—James’s she assumed—her belly round with child, her legs apart, and her modesty protected only by a thin towel. As she watched, an older woman raised the towel, and Kat saw more than she wanted to see of the birthing channel. Was it the babe’s head that protruded from between the mounds of flesh?

  The girl screamed again, snapping Kat out of her horror and propelling her toward the bed. “Get out if you are going to stand gawking,” she said to James as she dropped her coat and cloak across a chair and rolled up her sleeves. “What can I do, mistress?” she asked of the older woman, Mistress Lary she presumed.

  She looked back at Kat with wide eyes. It seemed she was out of her depth as James had declared. “Have you seen a babe born, girl?”

  Kat shook her head.

  “Then hold her hand and talk to her, encourage her, do anything you can think of to soothe her fear.”

  Kat did as she was told, sitting behind the pregnant girl and encouraging her to relax against her chest. “My name is Katrine, Eva.”

  “It’s too soon,” Eva said. “Too soon.”

  Kat wanted to ask so many questions, but none would help the girl. Instead, she cursed the day she came across James Tomel. “Your babe is strong, and he has decided now is the time. You must trust in him.”

  Eva looked at her with desperate eyes that knew an echo within Kat. “How can you be sure?”

  Kat bit down on a whimper. “I know it.”

  Mistress Lary placed her hand on Eva’s belly. “When the next contraction comes you must push hard. That will deliver the head, and soon you will hold your child.”

  Eva sobbed. “I am so tired. I don’t think I can push anymore.”

  “Yes, you can,” Kat said, “you can push for as long as you need to. I have faith in you.”

  At Kat’s words, the girl appeared to calm, and her breathing deepened. Then another contraction hit her.

  “You can do this,” Kat said. “Push as hard as you can, now!”

  Kat had to give Eva credit, for she did push as hard as she had energy for. “One more big push, Eva. Now!”

  “The head is delivered,” Mistress Lary said. “Good girl.”

  “You did it,” Kat said. “You’re almost there.”

  Kat sought Mistress Lary’s eyes and saw only fear there. What was wrong? Dread turned her insides to ice, but she had to be strong, for Eva. “Next contraction you have to give your last big push, Eva. Isn’t that right, mistress? Eva will have her babe to hold.”

  “Yes, girl, not long now.”

  Tears ran down Mistress Lary’s face, but Kat didn’t understand what caused them. How could the mistress know anything yet? The babe was not fully born. She gripped Eva’s hand.

  “Now listen. When your contraction comes you must push.”

  “I can help now, girl,” Mistress Lary said. “Do as Katrine says.”

  At the next contraction, Eva pushed until she was red in the face, and the next thing Kat knew she was being handed a blue little body—a little girl.

  “Rub her then hang her upside down and slap her on the backside, then repeat the process.”

  Kat did as she was told, but there was no response from the baby. Amid wails from Eva, she laid the child across her lap and breathed gentle puffs of air into her chest as she had seen her farm manager do with piglets. But I have no skill, no skill! The tiny chest scarcely moved. Hands shaking so much she was afraid of dropping the child, Kat patted the tiny back then rolled the infant over for more puffs into its rosebud mouth. Terror bubbled its way up from the dark place within, stealing her breath, tightening the muscles of her chest and chasing the blood from her extremities. She couldn’t let any of that show on her face—for Eva’s sake. She had to be strong even though all her insides were cr
umbling. Kat stopped to draw breath. The soft skin of the child was blue, and there had been no sound.

  She shoved the baby at Mistress Lary. “You try!” Kat turned to Eva and drew the girl against her, rocking her and patting her back. She was ashamed to be drawing comfort from the young mother even as she tried to offer support. She delved deep inside to find a spell that might bring life to the baby but, in her panic, she failed to summon any words, any power that might help.

  Mistress Lary placed the child across her knees and gave firm pats to her back then rolled her over and pushed on her chest. There was no movement no matter what she did. Finally, she wrapped the baby girl and offered her to Eva.

  “I’m sorry, Eva,” Mistress Lary said. “There is nothing more I can do. Nurse your daughter while I deliver the afterbirth.”

  Eva’s eyes were so huge, Kat thought she might pass out from shock, so she took the child herself and placed it in the girl’s arms. She drew Eva back on the pillows and covered her with a shawl then went to the fire and removed a heated stone. While the housekeeper went to work, Kat wrapped the hot stone in a towel and placed it under Eva’s legs. The girl hadn’t said a thing since the babe had been placed in her arms. She lay staring down at the baby as though she didn’t understand why it was there.

  Kat felt more completely helpless than ever before. She was desperate to flee this room of blood and death and never face it again. Logic told her it was not her fault, but, amidst all this, the cold voice of reason had no place. Perhaps if she had known more about birth, she might have been able to revive the tiny child. She sighed and drew a chair close to the bed, holding Eva’s hand as she waited for reality to strike the young mother.

  Chapter 5

  James paced back and forth in the kitchen, waiting for news from the birthing room. They had been in there for more than an hour with no indication of how the delivery progressed. It was too early for the child to make an appearance and Eva was young and tiny. Without experienced help, James feared the worst. And he had dragged Katrine into this mess.

  As the sun sent the first few rays through the kitchen window, James decided he couldn’t wait any longer. He wrenched open the kitchen door only to find Katrine standing outside. The magnificent silver that habitually lit her eyes was dulled by exhaustion and something more. Her shoulders were slumped, and blood stained her tunic.

  He drew her into the kitchen and pushed her into a chair, kneeling before her.

  “What happened? The babe?”

  “Is dead.” Her voice was dull, and she sat with her head in her hands.

  James placed his hand on her shoulder. She flinched away.

  “Why did you bring me here?” Her accusing gaze was upon him. “There was nothing I could do.”

  “I had no one else to turn to,” James protested, forcing himself to meet her eye.

  “You could have been there for her yourself,” she snapped back. “After all, she is your maid, and you have taken responsibility for her.”

  “How would it appear if I was present? The birthing room is no place for a man!”

  “Coward!”

  James surged to his feet. “Now see here! I’ve never shirked my duty.” A small voice asked him about the duty he had to his parents, but he shook it off. “I’ve done all I can for Eva.”

  Katrine threaded shaking fingers through her hair. “You have no idea what it cost me to be there. I had to try and breathe life into the babe when I have no skill.”

  James stared, understanding the base of Katrine’s anger. “I’m sorry you had to do that.”

  “I failed, and I will never know if it was my fault. Perhaps there was never any hope for the babe, but I cannot be sure.”

  “Katrine,” James held her hands tight, even though she tried to wrench them from his grasp. “I am truly sorry. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you. Of course, it goes without saying that I’ll continue to care for Eva. She will always be welcome here.”

  “I want you to take me home.”

  “Of course. I’ll get you something to eat while I check on Eva and prepare the trap.” James crossed to the fire where a kettle was boiling and made a pot of tea. He delivered a steaming mug to Katrine along with a thick slab of fresh buttered bread and honey. He left the kitchen, her accusation every bit as forceful as the stinging slap she had delivered to him only two days ago.

  Kat sat on a cushion in front of the fireplace in her room. She had been there all day since returning from James’s mansion. He must have explained what had happened, for Harah had delivered two meals during the day, patted her shoulder, and left without a word. There were no words to fix what was broken inside her. She told herself all day that time would lessen her grief at the death of Eva’s daughter, but only a small part of her believed it. How could she ever forget the feel of the small body in her arms—or the weight of the responsibility? Failure was too insignificant a word for what had transpired in that room.

  How could she ever get past this? There was nothing she had been taught that would help. I wish Hetty was here. The old witch knew so much about life. She had been her savior after the events in the Crystal Cave when Kat almost had the life burned out of her. Her magical powers were greatly enhanced by the experience, but so was her melancholy. And magic wouldn’t help her in this situation. It hadn’t helped with the birth of the child. I should have been able to summon a spell that would start that tiny heart!

  Hetty…she might be able to help, and it was some time since Kat had contacted her. A desperate longing to speak to her friend and mentor now drove Kat to the wood stack in the corner. She built up the fire until it was roaring and sat before it, eyes closed. In her mind, she built an image of Hetty, feature by feature. Kat smiled at the familiar scowl the old woman often presented to the world—and to her.

  “What is the meaning of this interruption, child?”

  Kat’s eyes flew open. Hetty’s image danced before her in the flames. She was none too happy, and Kat noticed changes that caused a spike of fear in her gut.

  “I wanted to see you again, speak to you,” she said, ashamed of her wavering voice.

  “You might have chosen a better time! I am in my bed!”

  Disturbing indeed when Hetty normally kept hours like an owl. The witch shoved a skeletal hand through her wild, wispy hair. She has lost so much weight!

  “I…” How to ask the myriad of questions that rushed to mind?

  “Spit it out, Kat! You look as though a ghost has walked over your grave.”

  Kat flinched at the mention of ghosts and graves, and Hetty’s sharp eyes noticed.

  “Is there something wrong with your sister? Your mother?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing like that. I have had…a difficult night…and I wanted to talk it over with you. But I see you aren’t well. What’s wrong?”

  Hetty opened her mouth to speak, but a hacking cough robbed her of her words. When she finished, she lay back on her pillow, her chest rising and falling at an alarming rate. “Give me a moment to catch my breath, child.”

  Kat’s body began to shake. Hetty was ill with no one to take care of her. What if she should die? The old witch was tough, but Kat had never seen her sick before, let alone bed ridden.

  “I have a little cold, that’s all. Don’t fret, I’ll soon be right as rain. I just need my rest.”

  “And I am disturbing it. I’m sorry, Hetty, I would never wish to do you harm.”

  “Don’t listen to the crotchety comments of an old woman, child. Tell me, what’s the matter?”

  Kat drew a deep breath and explained everything that had happened over the last few days, ending with the death of the babe. She also explained her deepest fears.

  “You know I have this terrible melancholy inside me since the Crystal Cave, Hetty. Nothing I do will shift it. I have no joy in life, I merely try to keep moving from one chore to another. If I keep busy, it’s better. Now I fear even being busy will be no help.”

  “My poo
r girl,” Hetty said, her dark eyes softer than Kat had ever seen them. “The babe—that is the circle of life. We are born, and we die. The child’s lungs weren’t ready to breathe. There was nothing even the most skilled midwife could have done to save her—nothing the strongest spell could have changed. You must accept the will of the Goddess. But I’m not saying it will be easy.” Hetty settled back on the pillow again, eyes closed.

  “Hetty?” Kat’s voice rose and she struggled to bring it back under control. “Are you well?”

  “A moment, child,” she wheezed. “…need to catch my breath again.”

  It was worse than Kat had thought. Hetty was never short of breath.

  “The night hound,” Hetty said at last, her hand rubbing her breast bone. “That’s serious. It may have been drawn to your magic. I haven’t heard of them for at least fifty years. You need to take care. Try not to use sorcery, and, if you do, invert the spell to lower the chance of detection. You remember how to do that, don’t you?”

  Kat nodded. “Of course, but I never practice it.”

  “Well, get it straight in your mind how you do it. But, whatever you do, don’t practice it now. If I’m right, it could draw every night hound for thirty miles.” Each short sentence sucked more life from her. She drew a deep breath that had her hacking up again.

  “Your melancholy will pass,” Hetty said. “Don’t surrender to it.” She coughed again then wiped her mouth with a handkerchief. “You need people around you. Who is your closest friend?”

  Kat had to think about the question. “Esta, my sister.”

  “Who else?”

  “My mother?”

  “Do you have a man?” Hetty’s voice was hoarse. Kat could hardly hear her now.

  “Of course not!” I don’t need a man.

  “A pity, child. A man can come in dashed handy at times.”

  Kat didn’t believe what she was hearing. “You don’t have a fellow, Hetty. How have you managed?”

  “You know me not at all, Katrine. I’ve had more than my share of men and outlived them all. There have been hard times, and, but for the support of friends, I wouldn’t be here speaking to you now.”