De Warenne Dynasty 01 - The Conquerer (11 page)

Ceidre grabbed it and hurried out into the night.

They were at the cottage five minutes later, Tildie's moans carrying outside. Her four children, ranging from three to ten, sat huddled in the single room, the five-year-old crying. "Hush, sweeting," Ceidre said, placing a hand on the boy's head. "Your mama will be fine. Hush now."

She looked atJohn . "Comfort them."

Tildie was drenched with sweat. Her waters had already broken. She thrashed and moaned, her contractions close together, but the baby would not come. Ceidre saw instantly what the problem was.

The babe was a breech, turned completely around, trying to leave the womb feet first. 'Twas not good.

"I will have to turn the babe around," she said toJohn , without looking at him.

"Have you ever done such a thing before?"Rolfe asked.

Ceidre gasped, stunned that theNorman had followed them. He stood in the middle of the small cottage, seeming to take up every inch of its entire space. He had thrown his sinister black mantle over his bare torso, but had only slipped shoes, not chausses, on. Now Ceidre understood why the hut had become so very quiet. The children were gaping, bug-eyed. EvenJohn was stunned, immobile.

"Once," she answered, turning back to Tildie and stroking her brow. "If you are here, fetch me fresh
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water and clean rags and soap." Tildie had fainted.

"I will get them,"John said, clearly relieved to flee.

"How is she?"Rolfe asked, not moving from where he stood.

"She has fainted. She is better off. Now she can rest a bit before the real work begins." Ceidre kept stroking her brow.

The five-year-old redhead began to cry again, pitifully, calling "Mama, Mama."

Ceidre, kneeling by the pallet, twisted to soothe the little boy. She stopped, amazed, to seeRolfe stroke his big hand through the child's curls. She had never seen him gentle before, had never even thought he could be gentle-but he was. "Viens a moi, petit, " he said, his voice low, comforting. "Do you know who I am?"

The boy blinked, staring. "N-no."

'Tis our lord," hissed the eldest, a girl of ten.

Rolferewarded the girl with a smile, then lifted the redhead into his arms. "She is right, I am your lord, Rolfe of Warenne. Do you know where Warenne is?"

The little boy shook his head, staring, awed, intoRolfe 's face, so close to his.

'Tis far away, across the sea. Would you like to know how I came to be here, how I crossed the sea on a big boat with all my men?"

He nodded.

Relieved, and still amazed, Ceidre turned back to Tildie, listening toRolfe as he began the story, thankfully omitting all political details, his voice low and rich and soothing.John entered and handed her the items she had requested. Ceidre washed her hands and began wiping Tildie's brow. The woman started to revive.

"Tildie?" Ceidre leaned forward. "'Tis Ceidre. I am going to try and turn the babe. He's facing the wrong way, and it must be done."

Tildie opened her eyes.

Ceidre smiled. She reached out to stroke her temple again. Tildie cried out and shrank away. Ceidre froze.Rolfe halted in midsentence, andJohn and the children all stared.

"No!"

"Tildie-"

"No! Don't touch me! Please, don't!" She began to weep.

Ceidre hesitated only for a fraction. "She's overwrought. I'll give her a potion."

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"No! I won't take your witch's brew!"

Ceidre felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. She recovered, with effort. "Tildie, 'tis me. 'Tis Ceidre. Your friend. I-" '

"This is all your fault," Tildie hissed. "You cursed me and the babe because I slapped youl Get away from me! Get this witch away from me!"

Rolfehanded the redhead toJohn and was at Ceidre's side. "Listen to me, mistress. I am your lord."

Tildie stared, tears streaking her face.

"She is no witch. She is going to give you a potion to calm you, then she will turn the babe. 'Tis my command."

Tildie began to weep. "I'm sorry." She sobbed. "Sorry. It's just that I'm so afraid . . . "

"Give her the potion,"Rolfe said tersely, his gaze riveted not on Tildie but upon Ceidre's face. Her expression, sick and stunned, twisted his gut into knots. He wished he could curse the foul wench for doing this to Ceidre, when she meant only good.

Ceidre recovered and, murmuring words of comfort, she administered the potion. Tildie was soon in a state of lethargy.Rolfe regarded her brisk efficiency, despite her being clearly upset. She did not shrink but boldly delved into the other's body, yet her touch was gentle. Tildie gasped in pain. Ceidre began to turn the babe, perspiration filming on her brow.Rolfe admired her in that moment greatly-she had immense courage. He reached out to blot a drop of sweat on her forehead before it interfered with her vision.

"There," Ceidre cried, relieved. "The babe is turned, it should not be long now."

"Well done,"Rolfe said quietly.

She glanced at him. His gaze was warm, unwavering. She flushed and concentrated on the task at hand.

Tildie's contractions were now strong enough to pop the babe out easily. Ceidre reached for the infant and knew instantly that it was dead.

It had strangled in the womb, its birth cord wrapped around its neck.

Ceidre blinked back tears and wrapped the infant in its swaddling.Rolfe reached down and took it from her. "I will bury it,"John said, resigned. He considered himself lucky to have four healthy children as it was.

Tildie opened her eyes. "My baby?"

Ceidre hesitated.Rolfe stepped into the breach.

"The babe could not survive. 'Twas not meant to be. He died in the womb."

"No!"

"I am sorry, but 'tis so. You are young and strong. God has gifted you with four healthy children, and if it
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is His will, He will gift you with many more."

"No!"

Rolfetouched Ceidre's stiff shoulders. "It is time to go. There is nothing more you can do. She must grieve herself."

"I will give her a sleeping potion."

"No!" Tildie screamed, somehow raising herself up to a sitting position. "No! I want my baby! Give me my babe!"

Ceidre took Tildie's hand as she wept. "I'm sorry. Oh, Tildie, I tried . . ." She broke off, unable to continue, thinking that if she'd come sooner maybe she could have saved the baby. Her heart ached for her friend.

"Oh, my baby," Tildie moaned.

Johncame to his wife and Ceidre rose to her feet, brushing at tears. She really couldn't see, everything was a blur. She had tried, she knew that, she had done the best she could, yet . . . If only she had thought to check on Tildie that afternoon, if only she had come sooner. She escaped the dark, dank hut and gulped in the fresh night air. She realized she was running. She didn't care.

Chapter 15

She ran into the half-mown hayfield. "Ceidre-stop! "

Him! He was the last person in this world she wished to see. Ceidre kept running. She stumbled on the furrowed earth but did not fall. She heard him calling again. Stalks of hay tore strands of hair free from her braid and whipped her cheek. She reached the far side of the field and paused, gasping for breath, at the edge. of the dark, looming forest. Would he never leave her alone?

She rested a shoulder against the rough bark of an ancient oak, and her knees gave way. She curled her fingers into the dirt and swallowed a sob. Her world was spinning, Her breathing was still ragged and uncontrolled.

"Ceidre."

She turned her head slightly and saw his foot. She forced herself up, into a sitting position. "Leave me be." To her dismay, her voice was husky with unshed tears and not fierce at all.

Rolfestood, tense and uncertain. He ached as if he were the one wounded. He wanted to reach down and touch her, stroke the dirt from her face and the tendrils of hair away from the corners of her mouth.

Damn that peasant wench!

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"Come," he said, the sound gruff even to his own ears, and he reached down to assist her up.

She shrank away. "Leave me be!" she cried shrilly. "I do not want your concern!"

His hands fell to his sides. "You have it whether you want it or not. All of Aelfgar is my concern."

She turned her face away, wishing he would leave, staring at her hands, white against the black earth.

Rolfehad never suggested anything to anyone, but now, awkwardly, he said, "Let us go back."

"You go. Just leave me alone."

He could order her, of course, but for some reason he was loath to do so. "You wish to spend the night here?" It was inane, his remark, but he did not know what to say.

"No," she spat, "I don't wish to spend the night here. Oh-God's blood!" She started to weep.

For the first time in his life he felt helpless. Ceidre wept at his feet. His urge to touch her was strong, yet he had never touched a woman merely to comfort, without lust-he did not know how. He clenched his fists and just stood there, unsure, feeling weaker than the weakest of boys.

She shoved herself abruptly to her feet, pushing past him.Rolfe was overwhelmed with relief. He followed. They said not a word. She held herself proud and straight, when he knew she was utterly exhausted. She had more courage and determination than most men. At the manor door, she nodded stiffly to him without meeting his gaze. He said nothing, going to the stairs. But there he turned, his gaze automatically seeking her out. He saw her shed the mantle, pause, almost ethereal in the thin white nightgown, and then she collapsed upon her pallet. He hesitated, thinking she would become cold, but he did not move to go to her.

And then a form rose at Ceidre's side.Rolfe went stiff, murderous. He held up his lampAthelstan gazed directly at him.Rolfe watched the old man pull the blanket up over her, murmuring something soft and unintelligible.Rolfe was seared with jealousy and it was onlyAthelstan .

Aliceran from the window inRolfe 's chamber to the solar across the hall where she slept. She had barely dived onto her own bed when she saw his shadow passing her doorway and entering his chamber. She lay rigid, seething. She had known it-hadn't she? She had known he was going to meet that whore when he had left earlier. Seeing them return together confirmed it.Alice had never hated Ceidre more-orRolfe .

She would pay.Alice would make sure of it. But first, more important, she had somehow to keep Ceidre out of her way-and out of her lord's bed. Until after the marriage. OnceAlice was securely wed, she would find a way to deal with Ceidre to remove her permanently fromRolfe 's lusting perversions. Even if it meant marrying her off to some serf in a village at the far end of Aelfgar's borders. Better yet-have her abducted by Scots! Then they would never see hide nor hair of her again!

Alice, soothed by her fantasies, fell into the deep embrace of sleep.

"A fortnight?" Ceidre echoed.

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"Yes. The banns have already been posted,"Athelstan said.

Ceidre turned away. Her mind was racing. She could not allow the viper into their nest! She could not!

But how, how to stop the marriage when her sister was willing? And was it even fair to do so, whenAlice so desperately wanted to wed? Ah, but surely there were others-she did not have to wed theNormanNot theNorman !

"We must stop them," she muttered to herself.

"You will not stop that one,"Athelstan said. "He is not called the Relentless for nothing. What he wants, he pursues until 'tis his. 'Tis well known, Ceidre. And he wants Aelfgar and its lady."

"Yes," Ceidre said bitterly. She couldn't help it, she remembered the warmth in his eyes and his voice when, after she had turned the babe, he had said "Well done." Then she recalled the feel of his mouth on hers in his chamber, his body wet from the bath, hard, sleek, thrusting against hers. Something coiled tight within her. Would he be so ready to bedAlice ? Why did that thought upset her? She had no place even concerning herself with such an affair, unless it was to feel sorry for her sister.

She had been given no duties. With resolution, Ceidre went to check on Tildie. The events of the night before were fresh, so very fresh, in her mind. Had her own friend shown her truest, deepest feelings -that she too was reviled and repulsed by Ceidre's "evil" eye? Ceidre knew that Tildie had been hysterical, but still, it had hurt, it did hurt. And then there was her own sense of failure. Most of all, Ceidre wanted to help her friend through her grief.

Tildie was not, surprisingly, in the kitchens. According to the servants, she had been given a day of rest by the lord. Bemused at such unheard-of charity, Ceidre walked down the slope to the village. The sun was high and warm, shedding its strength, burning away the finest spun clouds. There was a faint breeze, carrying with it the familiar odor of sheep and the fragrance of baking bread and hyacinth. Somewhere just to her right a lark sang, and a mockingbird responded.

The palisade of theNorman 's new keep would be completed today, Ceidre thought as she came closer.

The first floor of the tower had been framed as well. A drawbridge lay open, its wood pale and fresh. A knot of men stood there, working on the portcullis. Ceidre saw theNorman .

He was stripped to his hose and chausses, his torso, golden brown, glinting in the sun. His hair glimmered, its soft, thick curls threaded riotously with gold and flaxen and even spun silver. It was, she thought, becoming overly long for the Norman style. In the back, where it had been shaved, as was the mode, it was growing in. Unlike his fellows, he would never be able to sport the popular style with a neat fringe of bangs because his hair was so unruly, untamable; even closecropped, it would not lie flat upon his brow.