Trusting in Faith - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 5)

by Shea,Lisa

  Milo stumbled back into the room, and Sarah took one of the oil bottles from him, pouring an ample amount on her hands and on Reynald’s. Together they gently massaged Cecily’s stomach, giving gentle motions to the young child within her, encouraging the baby to slide.

  Sarah took the first shift, and Reynald organized the water and cloths within easy reach. Milo looked nervously between the two, twining his fingers together, stepping back out of the way.

  Reynald motioned to the wooden chair by the door. “Milo, why not move that chair by Cecily’s head and sing to her.”

  Milo’s face crinkled in a frown. “I am not a very good singer …” he stuttered nervously.

  Reynald waved a hand. “I am sure Cecily loves the sound of your voice. Sing her lullabies, as you would to your new child.”

  In a few moments Milo had settled himself by his wife, taking her small hand in his. He gazed down with loving devotion and began to sing. Sarah could feel Cecily’s body immediately relax beneath her, and she sent a thankful glance in Reynald’s direction before renewing her focus on the task at hand.

  The hours moved by slowly as the two labored at their task. Sarah would work until her hands became numb, at which point Reynald would take over. Milo brought them food and drink. After a few hours Cecily drifted into a fitful sleep, and Reynald made an effort to distract Milo with tales of Jerusalem and other far off lands. Sarah only half heard the stories as she kneaded and massaged.

  The night wore on. Slowly, ever so slowly, the baby began to move. Milo sang and resang soft songs to his wife, and Sarah kneaded ... kneaded ... she felt Reynald’s hands over her own, and gratefully turned over the task to him for a while, collapsing into the nearby chair.

  The morning sun sent glistening rays across the floor, and the baby was half turned. On they worked, trading places without a word, sharing a common goal.

  The baby was three quarters around. Cecily’s eyes were full of tears at the pain, but she bit down on a piece of leather and focused on her husband, on relaxing as much as she could so that the work could go more quickly. The hours dragged on …

  The sun was long past down again before the baby gave a final wiggle and settled into a head-first position under Sarah’s probing fingers. Sarah felt as if she had been working in this room, on this task, for weeks, and exhaustion seeped from every pore. She could not rest; there was still more to do. She settled back against the bed with a loud sigh, gathering her strength.

  “There, we are ready,” she announced, forcing her voice to echo enthusiasm. She looked up at Cecily, who had wearily opened her eyes. “Do you have enough energy to push?”

  By way of an answer, Cecily struggled to bring herself into a sitting position. Sarah looked over to Milo, meeting his eyes. “Milo, you are going to have to hold your wife’s dress up around her waist.” She glanced briefly at Reynald, then back at Milo. “I can ask him to wait outside if -”

  Milo looked past the point of exhaustion and shook his head. “Save my wife. I trust you both. She is too tired.”

  Reynald stepped forward and put his hand on Milo’s shoulder. “I promise you, I will do everything in my power to help,” he vowed, his eyes somber. “We will save her, and your child as well.”

  Together, the two men supported either side of Cecily, helping her to move over toward the clean cloths on the ground, then slowly squat down over them. A new look of strength came over Cecily as she settled down into position, feeling the baby move within her.

  Sarah kneeled before Cecily, and after a few minutes she smiled in relief. “I see the head!” she called out to the three in joy. “It is all right! You can push! Push!”

  Sarah cried out loudly as she bore down, relief and focus mingling with the pain of the contractions. The men firmly held her up on each side, and she leant against them as she might a pair of tree trunks. The baby slowly slid out and gave a hearty yell as it met the air. Another slip, and the tiny infant was in Sarah’s arms. She gave a twist with her dagger to free the child, and the men eased the mother back onto the bed, smoothing out her dress.

  Sarah gave the baby a quick wash in the now warm water, then bundled him up. She held him close for a moment, staring down at the bright blue eyes which gazed up at her with such trust. This little life had been held in her hands ... she gave the child a kiss on the forehead, then stepped forward to place him in his mother’s arms. Milo moved down to gently embrace his family, murmuring and laughing to his wife.

  Sarah went through her evaluation of mother and child with careful deliberation, and to her delight she found no issues with either. Both were in fine health, with no bleeding or complications that she could see. She finally sat back on her heels, a pleased exhaustion overtaking her.

  She looked up to Reynald, and found he was staring at her, his gaze lost in thought. Shaking himself, he glanced at the happy trio of the new family, then without a word took Sarah’s arm and guided her out of the cottage. As she stumbled through the door, she found to her surprise that it was nearly dawn of the next day. It had seemed as if time stood still in that small room, trying to save the baby and his mother.

  Reynald brushed a few stray hairs from her face, looking down at her. She could feel his presence as a palpable force, sense every movement of his fingers along her brow.

  “You were wonderful,” he softly praised her, his voice husky. “I had no idea what midwifery involved. It was an honor to help you.”

  Sarah’s conscience tugged at her. She had fought so strongly to keep him from coming – and he had been a valuable help in this emergency. “I do not know what would have happened if you were not here,” she slowly admitted, forcing herself past her pride. “I was wrong to treat you as I did. Thank you for your help.”

  The door creaked open behind them, and Sarah instinctively took a step back, distancing herself from Reynald. Milo came out of his home with a light trot, a great smile on his face. “I cannot thank you both enough for what you have done,” he gushed, beaming with pleasure. “Please, anything I have, it is yours. Would you like some mead? Some more food?”

  Sarah wearily shook her head. “If I do not leave now, I will not make it home,” she admitted. “I can stop by in a few days to check up on the mother and child, but right now I think sleep will do us all the most good.”

  Milo stepped forward and gave her a warm hug in thanks, then he turned and shook Reynald’s hand with vigorous enthusiasm. He helped Reynald saddle up the two horses in only a few minutes. Soon Sarah found herself climbing onto her mount. Reynald was alongside her in a moment, and the two walked back at a slow pace toward the keep.

  Sarah’s eyes lost focus, and she snapped herself back to wakefulness. “Please talk to me,” she sleepily asked Reynald. “Otherwise I will fade and go right off my horse.”

  Reynald’s horse moved easily alongside her own, and he turned to her, his eyes weary but alert. “What would you like me to tell you?”

  Sarah’s mind drifted. “You were spinning stories for Milo back there in the cottage, but I was only half listening. What was it that you did in the Holy Land?”

  Reynald settled his gaze halfway between the trail ahead and Sarah, keeping both within his compass as he rode. “The order I belong to is the Knights Templar. We were founded to help ensure that pilgrims to the Holy Land can reach their destination unmolested.”

  Sarah absently nodded. “Yes, I know of them. It seems a noble enough cause. So you do not go out on the actual Crusades, taking over towns and villages?”

  Reynald shook his head. “No, that is for others to do. My sole concern is with keeping the roads clear and the travelers on those roads safe. It is the bandits I take issue with, the ones who would plunder for their own gain.”

  Sarah winced at the mention of the word bandits. It brought to mind again the reason that Reynald was here, and the issue which lay between them. She was too weary to keep dodging the topic. “So, you seek to slay bandits wherever you encounter them, then? You have b
rought that fight home with you?”

  Reynald’s eyes sharpened, and he was silent for a while. He turned to watch forward as the path twisted ahead of them. The dark forest scrolled past them as they moved, the early morning sounds of birds and insects growing in a gentle cacophony.

  Sarah let the silence drift, her own thoughts going with them. On one hand, Reynald seemed a most admirable man. He had chosen a profession which let him keep others safe, and had volunteered to help her save a woman’s life. He had provided a calm, level head in a situation that desperately needed one.

  However, his arrogance in chasing down these bandits, his preemptory manner of wanting his own way in a situation … his flares of temper …

  The world spun in lazy circles, then collapsed into darkness.

  Reynald’s arms were around her. “Sarah, we are almost there. Wake up,” he called gently into her ear, giving her a soft shake. She struggled to open her eyes. Yes, the gates were up ahead, and the guards were pulling open the doors for the pair. She headed the horse over into the stables. Lou was dozing on a pile of hay in the corner, but at the sound of hoofbeat he came awake with a start and ran to hold the reins. Reynald was down beneath her before she could turn, and she gratefully lowered herself into his arms. Her eyes closed again, and she half fell against him.

  A familiar, lilting voice rang out. “So there you are, dearest Sarah!”

  Sarah’s eyes sparked open. She pulled back from Reynald’s body, turning to see Rachel standing at the stable doors. Her younger sister sported a wide grin as she looked between Sarah and Reynald, then she winked and ran off back toward the main castle.

  Reynald took a few steps toward the door, his face resolute. “This time I will say something,” he growled in a low voice, his eyes following the running figure.

  Sarah shook her head. “It will only make it worse,” she insisted sleepily. “Besides, my mother always says ...”

  She attempted to take a step toward him, but her foot caught in the hay and she tripped. Reynald was beside her in an instant, steadying her.

  “Let us first get you to bed,” he amended. “You are beyond exhaustion.”

  Sarah did not argue, and allowed him to half lead, half carry her up to her room. He pulled aside the covers, and she crawled into bed fully clothed. She felt him gently pull off one boot, then the second, and in a moment the covers were carefully laid down over her.

  She pressed herself against the pillow, and the world faded away.

  Chapter 4

  Sarah found herself being gently shaken awake. She wearily opened her eyes. The late afternoon sun was bronzing the landscape, and a gentle breeze drifted through the open window, adding a flutter to the edge of her curtains.

  Polly smiled down at her. “I am sorry to disturb you,” she murmured. “I know you were out late. It is just that Simon is here, and he comes from so far away …”

  Sarah sighed and pushed herself to a seated position. “Of course, yes, I understand,” she nodded to her maid with a yawn. Would she never get a full night’s sleep? “Please tell him I will be down as soon as I am able. I imagine you have him in the sitting room?”

  “Of course, and he has some mead and cheese. I will go let him know right away,” responded the maid, turning and leaving the room.

  Sarah climbed out of bed, ignoring the aches and pains which seemed to have settled into every corner of her joints. Simon was a nice enough man, and she found him to be a friendly, intelligent companion. Unfortunately, she imagined that his long term aim was not just to have a friend to talk with, and her heart did not tend in that direction. He must have ridden for three hours to reach her, too.

  She rolled her shoulders to loosen the knots, then stripped down to her thin white chemise. She dug out a muted sage green tunic to slide over it. She braided her hair back into a long plait, then gave herself a quick once-over before heading out of her room.

  The keep was quiet as she made her way downstairs to the sitting room. She smiled with pleasure when she saw Sally approaching the room with a tray of breads, meats, and cheese for her, as well as a mug of mead.

  “Thank you so much,” she whispered with ardent appreciation as Sally preceded her into the room, setting the tray down on a low table by a leather chair. The young woman nodded and retreated to the far corner of the room, sitting down with her sewing.

  A row of large windows faced out over the back courtyards, their open lengths admitting golden streams of sunshine. Several comfortable chairs were spaced around the room, and a large, low wooden table occupied the central area. Hanging tapestries lined the other walls, displaying floral designs in blue and yellow.

  Simon had turned from the leftmost window as she entered the room. He was tall, perhaps six foot three, with short, blond-white hair trimmed close to his skull. His skin was pale, and he verged on being too skinny for his frame. He wore an elegant, grey tunic with intricate indigo embroidery.

  Simon’s smile was genuine and friendly as he stepped forward to greet her.

  “Sarah, how wonderful it is to see you,” he glowed, taking her hand and lowering his head to kiss it. “It always makes the ride worthwhile, to find you waiting at the end.”

  “Please, sit down,” offered Sarah graciously, taking her own seat with slow care. “I am sorry I made you wait for me. I see Sally has brought you some mead – would you rather have wine? Or ale perhaps?”

  “Mead is quite fine; I am not particular,” replied Simon easily. His eyes swept over her. “You look beautiful, as always,” he added with warmth.

  Sarah blushed. “You are teasing, surely. I am barely out of bed.” She brushed a stray tendril of hair from her face. Leaning forward, she picked up a slice of cheese and layered it onto a piece of bread, taking a bite with relish. She was quite hungry, she realized as she gratefully swallowed the delicious morsel. “I had a long night behind me,” she added.

  Simon took a sip of his mead. “Oh, busy with the midwifery of yours? Yes, that is a lovely hobby for any single woman, to help out other families. I would suppose in a way it is great training for your own future, when you have a family of your own and can put that frippery aside.”

  She popped another piece of cheese into her mouth and nodded her head, half thankful for the inability to respond with words to that back-handed compliment.

  Simon saw at once that she was ravenous, and he smiled. “Here, I am being rude. Please allow me to play you some music while you eat.”

  Sarah’s face broadened with a thankful smile. “That would be wonderful,” she encouraged him.

  Simon moved to one of the walls, taking a lute from its hook and returning to sit down on a padded bench near the window. The tapestries on the walls waved gently in the breeze, and soon the gently strummed notes filled the room.

  Sarah sat back against her chair, relaxing as the music echoed around her. Simon was talented with the lute, and she did relish this aspect of his visits. He was sweet, gentle, kind, and overly courteous to her. She ate another slice of cheese, glancing over his pale face, his watery blue eyes. He smiled at her attentions, then focused again on his fingering.

  Sarah looked down at the tray, choosing a piece of roast beef. Why was it that she could not bring herself to be more fond of him? He obviously was courting her. She felt a tender friendship toward him, almost as if he was a younger brother. Still, she did not think they would be happy as a couple. He was too docile, too compliant.

  She looked out the window past Simon, to the rear fields. The soldiers were practicing sword work today, and the muted clang of steel on steel came through faintly behind the gentle strums of Simon’s song.

  Sarah’s gaze sharpened. She realized there was an unknown figure in leather armor moving amongst the men. After a moment, the style of his movement clicked. It was Reynald. She shook her head. Did that man not need to sleep?

  She found herself watching him more carefully. Judging by the way he was interacting with the others, he was helping the
men with their techniques. She could see how her guards attended to his actions, then mimicked them carefully, looking to him for approval.

  With an effort, she brought her focus back into the tapestry-lined sitting room. She ate with relish, savoring the flavors, then finished off her midday meal with a long pull on her mead. Still, the image of Reynald nagged at her. She would not have thought a Templar knight to be the type to spend time with common troops. Surely he had more exalted things to do, important people to speak with …

  Her mind drifted back to the previous day’s activities. Reynald had not complained once during the long hours of effort. He had been focused, attentive, and fully involved. He had seemed invested in helping and learning. Perhaps she had misjudged him …

  She realized suddenly that the room was silent, and looked up to find Simon smiling at her. She clapped her hands, adding guiltily, “I am so sorry, I seem to have been swept away.”

  Simon executed an elegant, short bow, holding the lute against him. “It is the ultimate compliment to a musician, when the music transports the audience,” he promised with a wink. His look became serious. “Perhaps it is a state you could enjoy more frequently, once we are together every day.”

  Sarah’s attention was brought fully back to the room in a swift rush. So here it was. She had tried gentle hints and suggestions up until now, and she hated to hurt Simon’s feelings. He was so kind. He deserved someone who would love him fully for his many talents.

  She stood and walked toward him. He automatically stood when she did, and put his lute aside on the bench. She took a deep breath and took his hands in her own. She needed to do this gently.

  “You are a wonderful man, Simon,” she murmured, looking down at his slim fingers. “I enjoy talking with you, and your musicianship is superb. Somewhere out there is a woman who will adore you with all her heart, someone who will count her blessings every time you step through the door.” She felt guilty even as she said it, but she knew it had to be done. She lifted her eyes to his, and saw the hurt reflected there already. “It is not me,” she sighed. “I am sorry, but it is not me.”