A Night of Angels

by Andersen, Maggi

He leaned over and brushed a soft kiss against her lips. “I do. Very much.”

  “A Yule doll, my lord?”

  Geoffrey turned and saw a servant had brought a basket of Yule dolls, a treat that he’d loved since childhood.

  Reaching into the basket, he brought out two and handed Merryn one before he sank his teeth into the sweet gingerbread.

  “Mmm, that’s wonderful. Wait,” he told the servant. “I’d better take one more for good measure.”

  “Are you going to have room in your belly for your Christmas pudding?” his wife teased.

  “If I don’t when it comes, I’ll bring it to the solar with us,” he declared.

  “You better. Cook made it especially for you,” she warned. “On second thought, she probably did so for Alys and Ancel. Those children can talk her into anything.”

  The carols began soon after, once the trestle tables had been pushed against the walls. It surprised Geoffrey that Old Davy was the carol singer who began by singing a verse, while a ring of dancers moved around him and sang the chorus. Others joined in to sing and dance and he found himself dancing with first Merryn, then Alys and Milla.

  After a couple of hours, the crowd tired and Merryn signaled it was time for the mummers to begin. No actual troupe had come to Kinwick so tonight’s actors were drafted from various servants and soldiers. As the play began and the story of Christ’s birth unfolded, he saw Gilbert, his captain of the guard, had been chosen to play King Herod. When Gilbert ordered the slaughter of all boys under the age of two, he was roundly booed by those in the great hall.

  Suddenly, Geoffrey spied a rushed movement. Odo, one of his soldiers who’d been stationed along the wall walk on sentry duty, hurried toward him. Geoffrey removed his arm from Merryn’s waist and turned to meet him.

  “My lord, Lady Merryn is needed,” the soldier said in a hushed tone.

  “What’s wrong, Odo?” Merryn asked. Then she said, “Wait.” She motioned for them to follow her and the trio slipped from the great hall, now silent as the play continued.

  Once they were in the foyer, Odo said, “A young woman sought refuge within our gates minutes ago. She was alone and gave the name Daralys Marillac. She said she’s the Baron of Goldwell’s daughter.” He paused, a deep frown creasing his brow. “She is with child, my lady. From the looks of it, the birth pains are upon her and she will deliver the child tonight.”

  “Where is she? I must go to her at once. We need to bring her to the keep and make her comfortable.”

  “I tried to get her to come to the keep but she insisted on taking her horse to the stables.” Odo frowned. “Lady Daralys asked that you meet her there. She said . . . she said she must give birth in the stables and that Lady Merryn would deliver the child.”

  Geoffrey’s squeezed her elbow. “I’ll fetch your case and meet you there.”

  “Get my cloak and a blanket, as well,” she added.

  He hurried to the solar. Though Goldwell only lay two estates away from Kinwick, the baron was a notorious recluse and rarely ventured beyond his castle’s walls. Geoffrey couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the baron and had no idea how many children the nobleman had sired. He thought he remembered a boy and a girl but that was from long ago. He claimed Merryn’s cloak and took a blanket from their own bed and then located the satchel full of herbs and items she used when she delivered babes on the estate. He ran from the keep to the stables, knowing time was of the essence.

  As he did, he could only wonder why Daralys Marillac was wandering alone in the dark on a snowy Christmas night.

  Daralys wearily slipped from the horse’s back and sank to the ground since she hadn’t the strength to stand. As she’d ridden throughout yesterday and today, the shooting pains had come and gone as the snow continued to fall. Without her cloak, she feared she might freeze to death but she kept praying to the Virgin to guide her to her final destination. She’d gotten lost and wandered in circles, afraid she would never reach Kinwick in time.

  She cried out as another pain began and then whimpered softly as it ended.

  Suddenly, a voice cried out, “Daralys!”

  “I’m here,” she said weakly.

  Two lanterns headed toward her and as they came closer, she saw the soldier who’d brought her inside Kinwick’s gates and a woman.

  Lady Merryn . . .

  Though Daralys had never thought of an angel as having hair of fire, Merryn de Montfort swept down as one. She wrapped her arms around Daralys.

  “You are frozen,” she chided softly. “We’ll get you warm, Daralys, and see that you have your baby. Are you sure you don’t want to come to the keep?”

  “Nay,” she said through gritted teeth as another pain began. “I must . . . stay here.”

  “Very well. Odo, help bring Lady Daralys to her feet and then you may take care of her horse.”

  The young soldier jumped to the task, assisting her to her feet. Lady Merryn steadied her as another man arrived.

  “Geoffrey, carry Daralys,” the noblewoman ordered as she took a case and a blanket from him.

  The tall man swept her up as if she weighed nothing and followed Lady Merryn.

  “Here!” she cried, entering an empty stall.

  The man paused at the entrance as the noblewoman gathered straw and then spread a blanket over it. He eased her to it and Lady Merryn spread a cloak over Daralys.

  “This is my husband, Geoffrey, and I am Merryn.”

  “I am . . . Daralys,” she gasped as another pain hit.

  Merryn held her hand until it passed and then had Geoffrey pull off Daralys’ boots and rub her feet while she did the same for her hands.

  While the noblewoman tried to warm her, she said, “I need to ask you a few questions. Did you see anything tinged brown or pink or mayhap red come from you yesterday or today?”

  “Aye. Yesterday. When I relieved myself. Is that good?”

  “That was your bloody show. It loosens and leaves you, giving room for the babe to come.” Merryn smiled at her and stroked Daralys’ hair tenderly. “Are the pains close together?”

  “Aye. They came and went as I rode. In the last hour, they’ve grown stronger and closer together. They’ve also lasted longer.” Her voice broke as another came.

  When it ended, Merryn said, “I need to check to see how you progress. Geoffrey, would you come behind Daralys and let her head rest in your lap?”

  The nobleman moved and lifted her head gently. He placed his large hands against her face and she felt a rush of warmth flow from him to her. Merryn pushed the blanket and Daralys’ skirts up and examined her. She watched the woman’s eyes and saw concern flicker in them as she touched gingerly around where the babe would come from.

  “What’s wrong? I know something is.”

  “Your babe is breech. That means the buttocks are showing,” Merryn explained. “’Tis not the way a babe should be born. The head needs to come first.” Her lips set in a grim line. “I’m going to have to turn your babe, Daralys. It will hurt a great deal but it must be done in order for the child to have a chance to survive.”

  “Do it,” she said. “Do whatever it takes to save this babe. I don’t care how much it hurts.”

  Merryn nodded. She leaned back and rolled her sleeves back. Her eyes went to her husband and she said, “Hold her as still as you can. The less she moves, the quicker it will go.”

  Another pain struck and Daralys moaned.

  “Don’t try to keep it in. Scream if you need to,” Merryn ordered.

  And scream she did.

  Daralys thought she was being torn asunder as Merryn’s fingers pushed inside her, trying to turn the babe. She’d only thought the labor pains unbearable. Now, her body felt split in two as the pain remained constant and Merryn forced the infant to switch directions. Blackness engulfed her.

  “Daralys? Daralys?”

  She heard a voice from a long way off. She ached. The voice kept calling her name. Finally, she opened her eyes a
nd a burning desire to push overwhelmed her.

  “You fainted,” Merryn said. “’Twas for the best. I was able to turn the babe. What you need to do now is push. As hard as you can. Grit your teeth and bear down with all your might.”

  She did as Merryn said, pressing as hard as she could. Sweat dripped into her eyes as she grunted like an animal. Exhausted, she stopped.

  “That’s very good,” Merryn praised. “The head has crowned. Do it again.”

  “I can’t.” Weakness blanketed her. “I’m so tired.”

  “You can do this,” Merryn said. “You were determined to reach Kinwick from wherever you came. You want this babe to come into the world. Push, Daralys, with all your strength. Force the babe to leave your body so you can hold it in your arms.”

  Geoffrey gripped her hands as Daralys fought through the pain and exhaustion and bore down as hard as she could. A roar burst from her lips as she felt the heavy burden slip from her. She heard Merryn’s laugh and the infant’s first cries.

  “It’s a boy. A beautiful, beautiful boy.”

  Daralys opened her eyes and saw the babe resting in the noblewoman’s arms. She reached inside the satchel and withdrew a large cloth, wiping the babe until he was clean and dry.

  “Here. Hold your babe, Daralys.”

  Merryn placed the infant in Daralys’ arms and she felt a burst of love erupt within her. As she stared into her son’s eyes, Merryn cut through the cord that bound the two of them together.

  He was so tiny. So perfect. It was a miracle that he had grown inside her all these months. Made in anger and pain. Born in love and a different kind of pain.

  “What will you name him?” Geoffrey asked.

  She sighed. “This child is not mine to name. He is for someone else to love. He has no father. And I’m not meant to be his mother.”

  “What do you mean?” Merryn asked sharply.

  “God led me here. To Kinwick. I am to give my son to someone here. Someone who wants to love a babe.”

  Daralys saw the frown on Merryn’s face.

  “I have a gift,” she said softly. “From the Virgin. I know things. I see things. God speaks and I feel it in my heart.”

  She saw they didn’t believe her.

  “Lord Geoffrey has lived through great darkness,” she began, hoping to convince them in the little time she had left. “Not only on the battlefield. In a dungeon, dark and dank, because someone evil used him in revenge.”

  She felt Geoffrey stiffen behind her.

  “You, my lady, are a great healer and so wise you render decisions your tenants respect. You gave birth to twins while your husband was hidden away.”

  “How do you know this?” Merryn asked, astonishment written on her face.

  “I have always known things about others. How to help them find something they lost. The secrets in their hearts. Who they will marry and the children they will bear. I know you carry a boy, my lady. He will be full of curiosity and have a sunny nature. One day, he will be a great knight.”

  Daralys paused, a great weight coming over her. She was wearier than she’d ever been and sensed the darkness surrounding her. Wanting to crush her.

  “You will have another boy, who will be a shadow to the one you will birth. He will also grow to be a brave knight.” She thought a moment. “A girl will follow. She will be spirited and loyal.” She paused as it became harder to form words from the images she saw in her mind. “Another child will come. Not one of your womb but one who will be close to your heart.”

  She closed her eyes to rest, the babe nestled against her. Daralys reveled in the feel of him in these last moments.

  Opening her eyes, she said, “I came to Kinwick to give birth. You will know the couple who has prayed for a miracle. They are desperate for a child. They are to have mine.”

  Merryn kissed Daralys’ brow. “I do know. They are Riola and Ellison. They have longed for a child and have much love to give.”

  “That is . . . good.” She smiled. “Thank you for . . .”

  Daralys tried to finish the thought but no words came. Instead, she saw a great, white light enticing her. She let go and stepped into it. Its warmth penetrated to her bones, bringing a joy unknown. Glancing back, she saw Merryn and Geoffrey. Their images grew fainter. Merryn lifted the babe and held him close, cooing softly to him.

  Her journey had ended.

  Chapter Eight

  Merryn raised the cloak until it covered the young woman’s face. She looked to Geoffrey. “I have so many questions.”

  “I have no answers. None.”

  They looked at the still body of Daralys Marillac, which had given out from the strain of the difficult birth.

  “Her face was plain but her beautiful brown eyes held a wisdom I’ve never seen,” Merryn said. “And what she said . . . about our children. Those to come.”

  “I believed her. What she said. What she saw. What she told us.” He touched Merryn’s cheek. “It was as if God allowed Daralys to reveal a glimpse of what lies in our future.”

  “She knew she wouldn’t live to raise the babe.”

  “She came here with a purpose,” her husband said. “God led her to Kinwick. To you, to deliver her child. To Riola and Ellison, to raise him.”

  “Can we really give this babe to them? What of Daralys’ father? Shouldn’t the babe go to the baron?”

  “Daralys said the babe had no father. She also gave her name as Marillac, which meant she hadn’t wed.” Geoffrey paused. “I fear someone took advantage of her. I doubt the baron even knows she was with child.”

  “You think he would not want to raise the boy?”

  “Nay. Daralys came to us with a true purpose. She wanted her babe to go to a good, loving home. This boy, born in a stable as the Christ Child was so long ago, will be at the center of Ellison and Riola’s lives.”

  “All we need to do is take him to them,” Merryn said softly.

  “Aye,” Geoffrey agreed. “First, though, I want to summon Father Dannet. Stay here with the child. I’ll be back soon.”

  Merryn leaned her back against the stall door and stretched her legs out in front of her. Holding the babe in her arms, she said, “You will have a mother and father who love you but you will also have a mother who will watch over you from above.”

  He began to fuss so she sang, soothing him until her voice lulled him to sleep. She could feel her own babe stirring within her and wondered at what Daralys had said about him. How he would be curious and possess a sunny nature.

  “Hal,” she said aloud as she lightly touched her belly.

  Merryn didn’t know where the name had come from but it felt right. This babe would be Hal. A happy child who grew to be a bold, brave knight.

  Geoffrey returned with Father Dannet. Her husband must have explained the situation to the priest. He blessed the child and performed extreme unction upon Daralys.

  “Will you take her to her father tomorrow?”

  “Aye, Father,” Geoffrey confirmed. “The babe will go to his new parents tonight.”

  The priest nodded. “Then I will sit with Lady Daralys until the new day comes.”

  “She was very brave, Father. The light of God shone from within her,” Merryn said.

  Geoffrey helped Merryn to her feet and placed her cloak about her shoulders. She allowed him to hold the babe while she tied the cords. As she did, Merryn realized this might be the first babe he’d ever held. She drank in the image, knowing sometime in May, Geoffrey would hold their child in the same loving manner.

  He returned the babe to her and picked up one of the lanterns. She followed him to Mystery’s stall. He saddled the horse and led it outside. Placing her in the saddle, he handed over the lantern and mounted behind her.

  The babe slept as they crossed the baileys and summoned the gates to be opened. Geoffrey walked the horse. The snow had ceased falling and Kinwick land was a world of white as far as they could see. They arrived at the cottage and he helped her down.
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  As they approached, Merryn said, “Normally, Riola and Ellison would have been at tonight’s celebration but she is recovering from giving birth. I was to visit her tomorrow to see how she fared.”

  “This will certainly be a surprise to them.” Geoffrey knocked on the door. “’Tis Lord Geoffrey and Lady Merryn,” he announced.

  The door swung open. A puzzled Ellison ushered them in. Riola sat next to the hearth, sadness enveloping her.

  “Riola, Ellison, we have come bearing a most precious gift.”

  The woman stood and walked toward Merryn as if in a dream, her eyes focused at the bundle Merryn carried.

  “God heard your prayers,” Geoffrey told them. “He has answered them with a son.”

  Merryn handed the babe to Riola. Tears streamed down her face.

  Ellison joined his wife, awestruck as he smiled down at the infant. Then he asked Merryn, “Where did he come from?”

  “From a mother who didn’t survive his birth,” Merryn replied. “Her last words asked that he be raised by a couple who would love him.”

  “Oh, we will, my lady. We will,” Riola said fervently.

  Ellison’s arm went about his wife’s waist. “We will, indeed. Hello, my son.” He placed a finger against the boy’s cheek. “I’m your father.”

  The babe opened his eyes and cooed. Merryn saw the instant bond of love grow between the new parents and their child. They were a family.

  “’Tis a miracle,” Riola said in wonder. “A Christmas miracle.” Then her eyes widened. “Oh, my!” she exclaimed. “I think my milk just came in.”

  The babe began to fuss and Merryn said, “He’s hungry.”

  “So, I should feed him?” the new mother asked, biting her lip.

  “Aye. Let me show you what to do.”

  Merryn instructed Riola on how to nurse and after a few tries, the infant caught on.

  Tears filled Riola’s eyes. “I’m finally a mother.”

  “You are,” she assured her. “What will you name your babe?”

  “Adam,” Ellison said without hesitation. “He was the first. This Adam will be our first.”

  “’Tis a good name for a good boy,” Geoffrey said.