“He is a minister,” Calder said.
“What?” Brenna yelled, the word full of sudden strength. “I am not dying! I need no holy man.” Anger seemed to give her more strength, helping her heels push into the bed under her.
“She is not dying,” Kára added, fury pinching the beautiful determination in her face.
“Not for last rites,” Calder called, dodging around Kára’s grandmother to tip his face up to Brenna’s. “Will you wed with me, Brenna Muir? Right now, before our child enters this world?”
Another contraction pulled her strength, and Joshua braced himself as her muscles contracted. A deep groan issued from her as her entire body tensed.
“Two feet now,” Hilda called. “We must work the shoulders out.”
“Aye, aye,” Brenna panted, her eyes once more opening to focus on the soon-to-be father. Calder waved Pastor John over. Poor fellow looked pale and shocked by the violent scene. Joshua did not blame him. Men were meant to take life from the world and were not meant for the horrors of bringing life into the world.
Calder glanced at the stains on the bed and Brenna’s smock, his face also going pale as his lips opened.
“’Tis like a horse birth,” Joshua called down to them both. “Think of it that way. But do not ask her to neigh.”
Everyone in the room, except Brenna, looked at Joshua as if he’d lost his mind. “It will keep ye standing to think of it that way,” he said.
“I…I have not seen a horse birth,” Calder said.
“Well, damn,” Joshua said. “Deep breaths then, I guess.”
A tortured groan came from Brenna, and Pastor John closed his eyes, his lips moving in silent prayer.
“Pastor,” Joshua called down. “Ye best start if your blessing is to come before the bairn.”
His eyes snapped open, and he nodded quickly like a nervous bird. “Do you, Calder Flett, take Brenna Muir to be your wife before God and these witnesses, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, until death do you part?”
“Aye, aye,” Calder breathed.
“And do you, Brenna—”
“Aye,” she screamed. “I take him until death do us part. Aye, forsaking all others…” The last word was drawn out with her wail.
Pastor John drew the sign of the cross in the air. “You two are wed. May God bless you and your child.” Without another word, he fled the room, likely to find some whisky, because that was exactly what Joshua was going to do when he managed to escape.
“Good girl,” Hilda said through another of Brenna’s low cries. “The shoulders…”
Brenna grunted, and her breath flew from her with the sound of… Whatever it was, it sounded wet. Holy bloody hell. Joshua drew in a deep breath to keep his feet beneath him while he held her.
“I have it,” Hilda yelled, pulling out from under Brenna’s smock. She held a bloody, slippery bairn, a thick cord over its shoulders. Kára moved forward, catching the child roughly in a towel, rubbing it.
Harriett cut through the fleshy cord with a sharp dagger. “Lower Brenna slowly,” Hilda instructed. Thank the good Lord, Joshua prayed and bent slowly forward with Brenna.
Thump. Calder was no longer standing.
“I caught his head,” Amma said as she lowered Calder to the stone floor, his eyes closed in unconsciousness.
Kára’s head was bent over the bairn, working frantically as Joshua lowered Brenna to the bed. “Come on, little boy,” Kára whispered in the suddenly quiet room. Joshua held his breath as she worked.
“Clear his mouth,” Hilda said. A weak cry came from the bairn, and Joshua released his breath. A small sob made Brenna shake, and tears washed down her cheeks, but she smiled weakly at the noise that proved her bairn had made it out of her body alive.
“There is too much blood,” Hilda said. “Kára, knead her abdomen. Harriett, come look at this tear. Do we need to stitch it?”
Tear? Bloody hell! Joshua’s eyes went wide as Kára stepped over Calder, carrying the bairn that she’d wrapped in a fresh blanket. “Hold him.”
“What?” he asked.
She shoved the tiny bundle into his arms and hurried back to the bed. “Like a baby horse,” she said, a slight grin on her face as her hands went out to massage the new mother’s round abdomen.
He looked down at the blinking little eyes of the bairn. “I will scare it,” he said, but no one paid him any attention except Brenna.
“Smile at him,” she ordered.
He tried but it likely came out like a grimace. The bairn had a spit of dark hair on his head, which was wet with… He did not want to think about it. The lad’s blinks were slow, as if he had drunk too much ale.
“I feel like I need to push again,” Brenna said.
“’Tis the afterbirth needing to come out.” Hilda patted her arm.
“Magairlean,” he murmured, turning his back on the process behind him. He looked down at the wee bairn. His little hand lay across the blanket, his long fingers extended. Were they supposed to be long like that? He looked closer. “Och, but he has wee fingernails,” he said, pushing his thumb under the miniature hand. The bairn’s fingers curled around his thumb, and his breath caught. He chuckled. “Ye have a strong grip.”
Joshua glanced down at Calder, who moved a hand to his face, his eyes blinking. “What happened?”
“Ye no doubt got your strength from your mother,” Joshua said to the bairn. In the background, the women helped Brenna, or at least her lower half while she continued to watch him hold her son.
“What will ye name him?” he asked.
“I…I do not know,” she said, exhaustion and joy on her face with brief pinches of pain. “I tried hard not to think of the babe while I carried him so as not to draw death to him.”
He studied the wee face. “I am not your father, little one. He is still on the floor. Perhaps I should not show ye that,” he said and turned away from where Calder struggled to sit up.
“What names are in your family?” Brenna asked him.
The wee one still held strongly to his finger. “My brothers are Cain, Gideon, and Bàs.”
“Bass? Is that short for anything?” she asked.
“It means death in Gaelic. He was born to execute our enemies,” he said, smiling down, his chest full as he studied the bairn’s puckered lips.
“Death?” Brenna screeched. “Give me my babe now,” she yelled.
“Ho now,” Joshua said, turning to her. “’Tis an appropriate name. He is the Horseman of Death.”
“Give him to me!”
He dodged Calder, who stood but still propped his hands on his knees. Joshua laid the bundle in Brenna’s arms. She frowned up at him. “What type of mother would name her babe Death?”
He opened his mouth to explain that, since his mother died birthing him, she was Bàs’s first execution, and his father had named him Death. But Joshua had enough common sense to shut his mouth.
“Brenna? You are well?” Calder asked, straightening to his full height. He came around to look down on his fresh new son, and Joshua stepped backward toward the doorway.
Kára had stopped massaging Brenna and straightened. Joshua couldn’t help but glance at Kára’s middle. Had he planted his bairn within her? Would she have to battle to birth it? Would it have tiny fingernails and a grip worthy of a warrior like Brenna’s babe?
As if feeling his stare, Kára met his gaze. Pieces of hair had worked their way out of her braid to frame her flushed face with her pale blond locks. They all must look exhausted from the night of adventure and danger. But the grin on her face, when she looked up from Brenna holding her newborn bairn, lit the darkness under her eyes. Kára Flett was beautiful, and something tightened in Joshua’s chest, something like a cord being tied into a taut knot. Or a noose, depending on how one looked at it.
She met
him at the doorway, pulling him into the main room. Even with the heat from the fire, the main room was not nearly as stuffy as the bedchamber. Kára dropped his hand. “Thank you for getting Hilda and for holding Brenna up there.”
“We were fortunate your healer was easy to locate, and we could escape on horseback without too much trouble.” Was John Dishington dead or merely knocked out? Would Robert know instantly, from having learned that Joshua was in his palace, that he was responsible?
“Without too much trouble,” she murmured. Was she worried Robert would retaliate today? She frowned, her gaze moving from his eyes to his lips. Turning, she yanked a rag off a shelf and rubbed hard there and on his cheek. “Jean’s lip rouge.” And continued down his neck as if she wished to scrape his skin off along with the red stain.
Joshua caught her hand to stop it. “I did not initiate—”
“Not on a mission, I know. You have more honor than that,” she said and tipped her chin up. “But it still looks ugly on you.”
He agreed. If he were to wear red, he’d prefer blood of a victorious battle to the smear of red lip rouge of a deceptive tryst.
She lowered her hand but didn’t move away. “I should go back to help. It is tradition that we guard the babe for a few days and nights, taking turns rocking the cradle while Brenna sleeps.”
He frowned. “Who would steal it?” The thought that someone might come during the night to take a bairn made Joshua’s muscles clench. He would cleave anyone trying to take the wee lad who had blinked up at him and held his thumb tightly.
“The same fae folk or trolls who would have harmed him while Brenna was pregnant. We will have the christening in another day to help protect the babe, too, especially since Calder brought the minister.” She smiled. “And we will have a wedding feast along with the blide-maet.” She shook her head. “There is much to do and with Lord Robert possibly attacking after we took Hilda…”
Joshua could not stop himself. He pulled her to him with a hand around her back, sliding it along the gentle arc above her hips. “I will stay to make sure no one harms Brenna or her son.”
Hope spread across Kára’s face, and he realized what he had said. He cleared his throat. “I will stay through Samhain and show your warriors how to protect themselves if attacked.”
The hope faded as she stared up into his eyes. She gave a little nod, lowering her gaze to his chest. “Not if attacked. When attacked,” she said softly and tipped her head back again to meet his eyes. “Because it is coming. Retaliation is something of which Lord Robert is quite fond.”
She shut her eyes then. “I need to go back to Brenna,” she said, and he slowly released her. Without looking at him again, Kára turned and strode back into the bedchamber.
He almost went after her, pulling her to him and not letting go until she understood what he had seen before. Did she know what could be worse than them hiding under the earth or leaving their home? Truly know? The wailing of those remaining as they fell over their slaughtered loved ones?
In South Ronaldsay no one but John Dishington talked about who had won and who had lost. Even if the numbers tallied in Joshua’s favor, they had all lost. Aye, he had won, but Joshua had truly learned what it meant to lose that day and night that saw not only men die, but lads as well. He shook his head. “I will not lead them to death.”
Chapter Ten
“Treat your men as you would your own
beloved sons. And they will follow
you into the deepest valley.”
Sun Tzu – The Art of War
Joshua walked out into the dawning light, the black of the night sky turning into a deep blue. A figure pushed off the side of the hill next to another partially hidden door.
“Joshua,” Pastor John said. “The bairn and mother?”
“Are well.”
“Praise the good Lord,” he murmured. “You did a mighty fine job helping. I have seen a few horse births, but that down in there… It was much more…well, everything.” He inhaled as if to fortify himself against a memory that would haunt him. “Life is a messy business.”
Joshua stretched his arms overhead, trying to rid himself of some stiffness. “Did Cain send ye to Orkney to see what mischief I was making?”
Pastor John grinned. “He said as much, but I think he worries about you.”
“Ye can tell him I am whole and sound and will return soon.” He crossed his arms. “How goes life at Girnigoe? Has Cain kept control of Varrich Castle and the MacKay Clan? Are the Sutherlands still our allies with young Jamie and his regent in control of Dunrobin Castle?”
Pastor John nodded. “There is peace, the first I have ever seen there. The Sutherlands are practicing with Sinclair warriors with your youngest brother, Bàs, leading the training sessions. Gideon has plans to move into Varrich Castle to keep the MacKay Clan in line. So far, the MacKays seem to be happy the wicked steward and foolish young chief are no more. Oh, and Lady Ella is with child.”
Joshua dropped his arms, a smile relaxing his face. “Cain is to be a father?”
“As of when I left three weeks ago. Your Aunt Merida and sister are taking good care of Lady Sinclair.”
Cain was going to be a father, like Calder was now, except Cain would not fall on the floor if he were forced to witness the birthing. “I will be an uncle,” Joshua said and chuckled, thinking of all the mischief he could help his nephew or niece get into. Would Ella let him hold the bairn or snatch it away like Brenna? Perhaps he should have his own son or daughter, a bairn that no one could whisk away. The thought tightened his stomach, and he glanced back at the door that hid Kára.
“Three weeks,” Joshua said and looked back to the clergyman who had done so much to help his clan back home. “Did ye have a hard time finding a way across the firth?”
“Nay,” John said. “’Twas a quick trip, but I stayed in southern Orkney for a fortnight, trying to help the poor people there.” The man’s gaze met Joshua’s with questions in it. “You were in South Ronaldsay. They said the Horseman of War was there, that he fought with them.”
They stared at each other for a long moment before Joshua looked past him. “Aye,” he said, his brows bending downward. “I tried to help them, but ’twas wrong to encourage the war when the price of winning would be too high.”
“They speak of you giving them hope,” Pastor John said, bringing Joshua’s gaze back to his. “They are rebuilding, and the new leaders are in discussions for a lasting truce after seeing what such slaughter did to hurt them.”
“Perhaps the old leaders should have been killed, instead of over half their people with them,” Joshua said, his voice low, Adam’s face surfacing in his mind like a spirit from the grave.
“And who are the leaders in the war up here?” Pastor John asked.
“Robert Stuart, Earl of Orkney.” He nodded toward the north where the palace lay. “And currently, Chief Kára Flett.” He indicated the door.
“Stuart? Related to King James?”
“Aye, his bastard uncle. Robert’s sons are also a problem, forcing the people here to work for them without pay or choice, not letting them hunt to supply food for their families, stealing their horses and anything of worth. The list of abuses is long.”
“And you wish to help these people against him?” Pastor John took in a full breath, letting it out slowly as if Joshua had already answered. “King James will not like his representatives here slaughtered by a powerful Sinclair, especially people of his blood.”
Joshua rubbed the back of his neck. “It would be better if I could convince Kára and her clan to move to Caithness on the mainland.”
The cleric nodded his head quickly. “Aye. Keep the Sinclairs free of this squabble and still not abandon these poor souls.”
Joshua exhaled long. “Aye,” he said, glancing toward the hidden village of Hillside. If only he could reason with th
e poor souls.
…
“Calder wants to name our babe after Joshua,” Brenna said, holding her son against her breast where he nursed. “He says your Highlander saved us both by getting Hilda. I mean, you helped in that as well.” She shrugged the opposite shoulder slightly. “And then the whole Joshua holding me up during the birth. Lord help me. I do not think I can look at him again without flushing red.”
“Hilda kept you covered below.”
“To think his brother is named Death,” Brenna said, whispering the last word as if it might summon the affliction.
Kára lay on the bed next to her friend, pillows holding them both up. “Not a name in any language for a child.”
Brenna looked down on the tiny head against her. “But Joshua is a nice name. I like the sound of it.” She looked up at Kára. “He is still here?”
It had been four days since the birth. Brenna had come through the difficult battle for life as well as she could. She had some stitches, but they were healing, and so far, Hilda’s brews had kept her free of fever. Once her milk came in, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Kára had been teaching her ways to hold her babe while feeding him, the memories coming back of when Geir was born.
Kára nodded but felt her frown grow. “He is training our warriors in defense so when Robert finds us, we can better fend him off.”
“Is that not what you wanted?” Brenna asked.
Kára exhaled. She hadn’t spent any time alone with Joshua since they’d spoken outside the birthing room. Each day she had woken, expecting to hear he had left. I will stay until Samhain. The holiday to honor the dead and bless the harvest in preparation for the dark winter ahead started at sundown the next day.
“He is still here,” Kára said, “but he has not agreed to lead us against Robert and his sons, and The Brute.” John Dishington had not died and was now angrier than ever, giving Joshua and Kára a warning through Asmund at the tavern. Henry Stuart and Dishington had ridden into the deserted town on the bay and had thrown Asmund to the ground when he feigned ignorance of their location. Asmund would rather die than tell Stuarts about Hillside.
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