by Holby Cindy
“The fools see what they want to see.” Madwyn gathered Eliane into her arms and another contraction took her.
“ ’Tis too soon,” Eliane cried.
“Just a few weeks,” Madwyn soothed. She ran her hand over Eliane’s shorn hair. “The fool will pay for this among other things.”
Eliane shook her head. “I did it. He held me by my braid, so I cut if off to escape.” She let the sobs come.
“Poor child of mine. So brave,” Madwyn cooed.
“I don’t want the babe to come,” Eliane cried. “He will kill her.”
“Do you trust me?”
“I do.”
“Then you must do as I say and trust that all will be well in the end.” Madwyn pulled Eliane to her feet and guided her to the bed. She removed the bow and quiver and shoved it beneath. “Let us take care of the babe,” she said as she wiped the sweat from Eliane’s brow. “Then we will take care of the rest.”
Rhys kept his eyes on the tower. Now that he knew where she was, he felt a bit better, but not much. The babe was coming, and coming soon. Her cries rent the night air, causing him to wonder. How could something so wondrous cause so much pain? It was if she were being ripped into halves, and in a way she was. A piece of her, a piece of him, was becoming whole unto itself. A daughter was coming into this world.
“Please, God.” He fingered the cross around his neck. “Let the plan work.” It was dangerous. Especially for Eliane and Madwyn. But it was the only way. Their only chance.
A scream echoed off the walls.
“It will be soon,” Han said. His pale blue eyes were fixed on the tower also.
Something bumped Rhys’s hand and he saw Llyr, trembling beside him. Rhys blinked as if awakened from a deep sleep. He had not realized that everyone watched and waited with him. Khati, Cedric, Ammon, even Mathias, although he sat on a stool. The boy’s face was pale in the coming dawn.
Behind them was nothing but silence. The men-at-arms were silent. Even the horses made no sound as they grazed behind the camp on Vannoy’s grass.
Llyr whined and sniffed at the braid that Rhys wore wrapped about his waist. Rhys knelt beside him. He put his arm around the beast. There was another scream and Llyr tried to move forward. Rhys held him back. A shadow moved across the light in the tower room, and Rhys felt his body tense. He waited.
There was nothing. No sound, no word, not even the sounds of the night came to him. There was nothing but the small light that shone from the arrow slit above.
“It will soon be upon us,” Han said. “You should rest.”
Rhys did not hear him.
Madwyn stood with her back to Eliane. She held the babe in her arms. “Let me see,” Eliane said. She felt as if she’d been torn asunder, yet she felt the relief of having completed a long journey. Her reward was within reach, yet Madwyn held it from her.
Madwyn shook her head. There was no sound from the babe. Why did it not cry out? Was that not the way of things?
Madwyn cleaned the babe and wrapped it in a square of linen. She placed it in the basket, then turned to Eliane.
“I want to see.”
“Let me cleanse you first,” Madwyn said. She washed Eliane’s body and placed a kirtle on her. One of the ones left at Aubregate when Eliane went to London.
“Why doesn’t she cry?”
“She is as tired as you are. There isn’t much time. Vannoy will come as soon as he wakens. You must rest for what will happen next.”
“Let me hold her.”
Madwyn nodded. She went to the basket, moved things from within it while she held the babe. She kept her back to Eliane and still there was no sound.
“Let me see her,” Eliane asked again.
Madwyn turned with the babe in her arms. “I am sorry, Eliane. It was too soon. She did not survive.”
It was as if time stopped. When did Madwyn put the babe in her arms? When did she put on her cloak and pick up her basket? When did she turn once more into the old crone?
Eliane pushed back the blanket. The infant was tiny, yet perfectly formed, with delicate fingers and tiny nails. Her hair was dark and heavy on her brow. Her skin was so very cold and looked blue in the candlelight.
Eliane heard the bar being lifted from the door.
“Eliane. Look at me,” Madwyn said.
Eliane tore her eyes from her daughter and stared into the face shadowed within the cloak.
“Be strong. It all depends upon you.” Madwyn faded into the shadows behind the door.
Eliane nodded. This was her only chance. She must be ready, no matter that her heart was breaking. Mayhap it was better this way. Vannoy could not touch her daughter now. He would not have the joy of killing her.
Vannoy loomed over her. “I see she looks like her father,” he said.
“You cannot hurt her.” Eliane painfully rose from the bed, keeping it between them. “She is dead.” Eliane wrapped the babe up and held her close.
Vannoy shrugged. “How disappointing for both of us,” he said. “Still, de Remy does not know it. She can still serve my purpose.” He made a move to take the child and Eliane turned and held her tighter. “Give her to me now,” he said. “Or I will kill the midwife.”
“Oh no, sir, please,” the crone cried out as she bowed and bobbed before him. “I have done as ye asked.” She looked at Eliane. “I am sorry, milady. It was too soon. Too soon.” She said it over and over again and rocked as she repeated the words.
“What will you do with my babe?”
“I will return her to her father,” Vannoy said. He held out his hands and bared his teeth in what he thought was a smile. Eliane looked at Madwyn, who still rocked and moaned as if her life depended upon it. It did. Eliane had no choice but to hand over the body of her daughter.
Vannoy looked at the babe closely as if he did not believe she was really dead. He lifted her by the arm and shook her roughly. Eliane wanted to shriek and cry at the abuse, but she remained quiet. She knew her protests would only encourage him.
“Is your job here done?” he asked the crone.
“Yes, milord, yes. I pray thee, sir, ye must give milady time to heal lest she take the sickness and die.”
“How much time?” Vannoy’s eyes upon Eliane were calculating.
“Until the moon is full again,” the crone said.
“You may go,” he said. “The man who summoned you will pay you.”
The crone looked at Eliane and gave her a slight smile.
“Tell my husband that I would name her Arden, after my mother,” Eliane said. Tears welled and she quickly dashed them away. “Tell him to baptize her with that name.”
The crone nodded and left. Vannoy followed with the body of her daughter, and the bar slid home, once again leaving Eliane alone with nothing but her tears.
Rhys held his breath as Madwyn made her slow and painful way from the gate. The transformation was amazing. Just by wearing her cloak and adjusting her stance, she gave the illusion of age and a broken and twisted body. As she approached the trees, he and Han went out to escort her into the shelter of the camp. Han took the heavy basket from her as she threw back her hood and once again became the elegant and graceful lady of the forest.
“Hurry,” she said. “He will need milk.”
“He?” Rhys asked.
She lifted the babe from the basket and it stirred. “Fetch the woman. She may still give life to this child.” She turned to Rhys and placed the babe in his startled arms. “You have a son, milord. I would not have believed it had I not seen him come forth from Eliane’s womb.”
Rhys looked down at the thatch of bright red hair over the tiny face while Madwyn adjusted his arms to better hold the babe. Tiny fists jerked and the arms and legs stretched. The eyes opened and stared at him with a deep intensity that reminded him of Eliane’s emerald gaze; then the babe turned his head and with mouth open nudged the armor covering Rhy’s chest. Rhys touched his finger to the tiny shell of his ear. It was rounded and qui
te normal looking.
“A son?” He looked at Madwyn with disbelief. “Eliane?”
“She is strong. She thinks the babe dead. I could not tell her otherwise, lest her hope give away our plan.”
“Will she fight?”
“She will fight.”
A young woman came forth. She was quite small, had long dark hair and great dark circles beneath her eyes. “This is Jodhi. It was her daughter who died and is sacrificed to Vannoy. She will nurse your son until his mother may do so.”
Rhys placed his son into her willing arms. “You will never want for anything as long as you live,” he promised her.
Jodhi dipped her head and gave him a sad smile. “My husband will fight for our lady,” she said, and left with his son.
The top of the sun appeared among the trees to the east. Day was upon them. Rhys stepped out from the shelter of the oak once more and stared up at the tower room. If only he could see her. A son…We have a son. There are only daughters born to the woman of Aubregate. Until now. Eliane…
“De Remy!” Vannoy once more stood on the castle wall.
It was time.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Vannoy stood on the walls again. His archers were in their place and his men-at-arms on horseback gathered in the outer bailey behind the gate. He was ready for battle and Eliane knew he planned to use their baby to enrage Rhys into doing something foolish.
As Rhys had hoped he would do.
She was so very tired. She had not slept for two days. The hard travel and the subsequent birth had drained her. She wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep, but she could not. Her life and the lives of her people depended upon her.
She’d moved the small table before the door and used the stool to brace it against the bed so that none could enter. She pulled her leather gauntlets over her arms and placed the knife she’d found in her quiver on the sill. She positioned the quiver beside her and tested the tautness of the bow. Her head felt exceedingly light and her hand went self-consciously to the curls that teased her shoulders.
“De Remy!” Vannoy shouted. Dawn had broken over the land and it lit the field before the castle, although the oak tree still lay in shadow. To her surprise she saw an entire army of people gathered behind it. Tents, wagons, cook fires, and horses. It had sprung up during the night. Her eyes easily found Rhys as if there were a line strung between them. He stood before the tree looking up at the tower. She saw several others beneath the tree and wondered who they could be. Madwyn surely. Han? What of Cedric, Khati, and Mathias? She should have asked Madwyn about Mathias, but there had not been time. There had only been the pain of birthing and the pain of death. The pain that she could not give in to. Not yet.
Within a moment of Vannoy’s shout, the group beneath the tree dispersed and Yorath was led forward. Her heart leapt with joy at the sight of Llyr walking back to the shelter of the camp with Mathias. She had feared them both dead. As the echo of Vannoy’s shout faded into the morning sky, Rhys rode forth.
Eliane notched her bow.
Rhys wore full armor except for his helm. His head was bare and his dark hair fell over his forehead and curled haphazardly about his ears. Her fingers itched to touch it and she strummed them over the bow string as she watched.
“De Remy!” Vannoy shouted again. He lifted the body of the baby girl up and held it over his head. “Here is your daughter!”
Eliane drew the bowstring back. She could kill Vannoy now, easily. His back was within her sight line. But Vannoy was not the immediate danger. She pointed her arrow at the archer who stood next to him on the wall.
Vannoy threw the body out and over the wall. From the camp a woman screamed. Eliane bit her trembling lip to keep from crying out and kept her bowstring taut. Rhys disappeared from her view as he rode within the shadow of the castle wall. Vannoy shouted down to him, but his words were lost to her.
As Rhys rode back to the camp with the body, a flash of white flew across the sky. Madwyn’s owl, a signal to her and the archers in the woods. The owl flew straight to her tower and landed inside just as the sky filled with arrows. The great longbows of the Aubregate huntsmen were loosed. Eliane added hers to the assault. As the arrows came in from the side, she fired from behind, picking Vannoy’s archers from the wall as easily as when she shot apples from a tree.
Rhys turned Yorath as he entered the camp, and the men-at-arms joined him. The army rode out, shielding the men who rode in tandem with a battering ram between them.
The confusion on the wall grew as those beneath the assault of arrows tried to decide where to take shelter. Eliane turned her attention to the gate. Vannoy stood on the wall beside it and shouted down instructions to the men gathered below. He had hoped to send them out to attack. Instead the attack was coming to him.
She only had a handful of arrows left. She rapidly shot them, targeting the enemy. Men fell, horses reared, and the ram pounded on the gate. The archers from the forest ran to the walls and rained arrows into the outer bailey.
Vannoy ran across the bridge that connected the outer wall to the inner. Eliane only had one arrow left and her knife. Vannoy would come for her, if only to use her as a shield to make his escape. This time he would not surprise her. This time she was more than ready for him.
She heard the gate splinter. She heard the battle cries of the men as they met. She staggered to the middle of the room with her bow. She was weak and her arms and shoulders trembled from the effort of firing the arrows. Her back and legs ached from the delivery and she felt the blood that still seeped from her womb.
Madwyn’s owl blinked at her from its perch upon the bed frame.
“Go,” she said. “Fly to the forest and to home.” He hopped to the slit and swiveled his head around for one last look as she heard the pounding of Vannoy’s boots on the stairs.
The bar was thrown. The door moved slightly, and then stopped as it came up against the table. He pounded against it. Eliane notched the arrow and raised her bow. Her shoulder cramped and she blinked as the door seemed to waver before her. Lightning flashed across her eyelids.
Be strong…stay strong…you cannot fail now…
With each blow, the table moved until finally the leg splintered and it broke against the bed. With one last kick Vannoy pushed the door open and strode into the room.
Eliane took a deep breath against the cramp that shot across her back and let the arrow fly. For the first time in her life she missed. Instead of his heart, the arrow pierced his shoulder. Vannoy snarled at her and jerked the arrow loose. He threw it to the side as Eliane snatched up the knife. Her hands shook and her legs felt like stalks of grass. She had no more strength to fight him.
“Rhys will kill you,” she said. “He is within your walls.”
“You will not live to see it,” Vannoy said. “If I cannot have you, then neither shall he.”
“Your hatred will be a sorry companion in hell.”
“Then I shall have to take you with me for company.” He came at her. Eliane held the knife close in as Han had taught her and waited for him to strike. She saw an opening in his belly and made to swing upward, but she was too weak, and he too strong. He struck her across the face and she spun round. The knife fell from her grip. Eliane collapsed against the wall and slid to the floor. Vannoy wrapped his hands around her neck and pulled her up. He pinned her against the wall and he squeezed. Eliane kicked at him, but she had no strength. She was weak and exhausted and she had nothing left to fight with. She gripped his arms, trying to pull them away, and then clawed at his face. Blackness overwhelmed her. She could not draw a breath. She could not make a sound. Her heart pounded and she felt herself sliding away. Rhys…
He was here. He kicked aside the door and the table. He held his sword in one hand and with the other he grabbed Vannoy by the shoulder. Vannoy’s eyes widened and his grip relaxed as Rhys buried his sword in Vannoy’s stomach and thrust upward. Blood gurgled from his lips. Rhys turned them both so he stoo
d next to Eliane. Vannoy faced them with his eyes wide in disbelief.
“You. Will. Not. Have. Her,” Rhys said, and he yanked his sword free. Vannoy crumpled to the floor.
Eliane felt herself falling, but Rhys grabbed her with his free arm and pulled her against his hip. “Can you walk? I fear we may still have to fight.”
“With your help I can fly,” Eliane said.
He was right. Men-at-arms charged up the steps toward them. Rhys pushed Eliane behind him and stood with his sword in the ready position.
“Your master is dead,” he said. “Do you still wish to fight?”
The men shook their heads and backed away. They had no love for their master, and with his death there would be no payment for their services. Han and Ammon came up behind them, along with some of the men-at-arms from Aubregate. Ammon grinned up at her.
“You are saved, milady,” he said.
“I am…”
The world swirled around her and Rhys caught her as she fainted dead away.
When she woke, she was on a pallet beneath the limbs of the oak. Llyr lay beside her, and the cries of a babe caused a spasm of pain in her breasts.
“Why is there a babe here?” she asked Madwyn, who rushed to her side.
“He was born here,” she said. “His father kept him close at hand so that he may meet his mother.”
Eliane looked at Madwyn, who smiled a beautiful smile at her. “Would you like to sit?” she asked. She pulled Eliane up and Khati put pillows behind her, using the tree as a backrest. Llyr once more settled against her side and she twined her fingers into the hair at his neck. A bandage was around his middle, but his eyes were clear and his nose cool to the touch. He would recover, as would she. Once they returned to Aubregate. Once they returned home.
“Here comes the father now,” Madwyn said.
Eliane looked up and saw Rhys coming to her with a babe in his arms. The smile on his face was broad and his dark eyes shone with something she’d never seen before.