Fortune's Bride (42 page)

Again Esmeralda’s eyes searched the landscape. The panic in
M’Guire’s voice was catching, and desperation focused her previously unseeing
eyes. Down the slope, not far from the road, were the remains of a small house.
Hide. The word came with sensible meaning. They could conceal themselves in the
house until Molly’s baby was born. Esmeralda was sorry for the anxiety she
would cause the officers responsible for her, but that was insignificant
compared with Molly being left behind.

“Can you carry her, M’Guire?” Esmeralda asked. “Look, down
there, the house. I’ll help if I can—”

But M’Guire had already picked up Molly and was staggering
toward the haven Esmeralda had indicated. She followed, dragging Boa Viagem,
fearing each step would be M’Guire’s last. Although he was the strongest of
them, he was also the only one who had walked every foot of the way. And he had
put out the most effort of any of them, for in addition to walking, he had
lifted each of the others on and off the horse and mule innumerable times.

He just barely made it, sinking exhausted on the doorstep,
but with Esmeralda’s help, Molly managed the few steps through the gaping
doorway into the interior. The marauders had been there before them. Not a
stick of furniture nor a door remained. Even the floorboards had been ripped up
in some places, whether for firewood or in search of hidden valuables,
Esmeralda did not know or care. She only noticed because the floor sagged
crazily so that she and Molly nearly fell.

Having managed to ease Molly down without disaster,
Esmeralda ran out again. M’Guire was lying where he had dropped, sobbing with
effort and fear, for he loved his wife. Seeing his helplessness, Esmeralda hesitated,
panic rising in her again. She pressed her hands to her mouth, trembling on the
edge of collapse herself, but was saved by the sight of Carlos staggering
toward her with his arms full of blankets, topped with a small white
package—the baby linen.

The whirling world steadied. With the blankets to keep her
warm, perhaps Molly and the baby would live. They were not starved. Molly would
have milk. Hope renewed Esmeralda’s strength, and she ran forward and seized
the blankets and bundle from Carlos.

“Take Luisa and Boa around to the back where they cannot be
seen from the road,” she said to Carlos. “Then, if you can, help M’Guire
inside—but it is more important that you keep yourself and the animals out of
sight.”

She did not take the time to explain. The need to hide Luisa
and Boa Viagem was obvious. They might be seized by stragglers or even by
legitimate authority to draw supply carts, not that they really would be of
much use, owing to their condition. In any case, their presence would draw
unwelcome attention to the house, and Carlos might even be recognized by a
Guards officer searching for Esmeralda. M’Guire lying on the doorstep was less
important. So many men littered the roadside that another body, seemingly
collapsed seeking shelter, would hardly be noticed.

As she made her way past M’Guire into the house again, a new
fear shook Esmeralda. Aside from helping her onto the blankets, she had not the
faintest idea of what to do for Molly. But as it turned out, she had no time to
do even what she intended. As she entered the room, Molly screamed, “Take the
baby! Take it! ‘Tis out!”

Esmeralda dropped everything and threw herself forward onto
her knees. Molly had turned up her skirts, under which she was naked, and
between her wide-spread thighs Esmeralda saw a tiny black head and narrow
shoulders. Before she could think, her hands had gone out to support the little
body. Even as she grasped it, the rest of it slithered out as Molly gave one
last push, gasping with pain and effort and relief. For a moment, Esmeralda
simply knelt where she was, paralyzed between wonder and terror and not knowing
what to do, for the baby was still attached to its mother by a long slippery
cord.

“Turn ‘t over,” Molly whispered. “Turn ‘t over, head doon,
‘n give ‘t a slap.”

Fortunately Esmeralda was so numb that she obeyed. She was
far too afraid of dropping the slippery little creature to think of much else,
and it was just as well she was concentrating so hard on holding it, for she
might have dropped it in disgust when it gagged up a mess of slime or in
astonishment when after that it suddenly let out a lusty squall.

“’Tis aloive,” Molly breathed.

“Oh, it certainly is,” Esmeralda assured her. “It’s
squirming like anything.”

“Lay ‘t on me belly,” Molly instructed, her voice growing
stronger, ‘nd pull me skirts over ‘t. Then ye’ll need t’ find a knife t’ cut
th’ cord.”

With mingled relief and regret, Esmeralda placed the baby as
Molly had instructed and rose to her feet. It was a horribly ugly creature, red
and wrinkled, with spidery limbs and a misshapen head, but it pulled at
Esmeralda’s heartstrings nonetheless. She felt dazed, and repeated to herself,
“A knife. A knife,” until the words suddenly took on meaning. “A knife,” she
said aloud, frightened again. “Where will I find a knife? We left all the
cutlery by the road.”

“For what do you want a knife,
senhora
?” Carlos asked
in a trembling voice, staring at Esmeralda’s hands.

“To cut the cord of Molly’s baby,” she said, smiling for the
first time since they had begun this nightmare trek. “Don’t be frightened by
the blood, Carlos. Molly and the little boy are both alive.”

“Thank God! Oh, thank God,” came M’Guire’s voice from behind
her. “God bless ye, mistress, God bless ye. For whut ye done this day, I’ll die
for ye, so I will, I swear it.”

“I would prefer it if you would stay alive for me, and for
Molly, too,” Esmeralda replied, still smiling, but even as she was speaking, a
frown replaced the smile. “Do you have a knife?” she asked anxiously. “I think
it is very important to cut the cord.”

M’Guire shook his head and started to struggle to his feet.
“Me bayonet—” he began, but Carlos was already holding out his knife.

Esmeralda took it almost reluctantly, alarmed again about
being responsible for something which, if done wrong, would have dire
consequences, she was sure. However, on returning to Molly, she found that the
cord no longer trailed inside the new mother. There was a horrible mess on the
floor to which it was attached. Esmeralda recoiled.

“‘Tis th’ afterbearing,” Molly said. She sounded almost
normal and had recovered sufficient strength to push herself a little distance
from the worst soiled part of the floor. “Ye need not touch it. Jist pick up
th’ cord ‘n cut it. Now toy a knot in it. Thin turn th’ little un over ‘n toy
anither close ‘s iver ye can t’ his belly. Whin ye’re sure that’s toight ‘n
sound, cut th’ cord agin not far from it. Soon ‘s Oi cin find a bit o’ silk
threat, Oi’ll toy ‘t off closer.”

The instructions were easier to give than to follow.
Esmeralda found tying knots in the resilient, slimy cord no easy thing, and
cutting it, even with Carlos’s sharp knife, was not simple, either. The baby,
who had quieted when placed on Molly’s belly, began to squall again when
Esmeralda handled him. Nonetheless, she could not help smiling once more as she
struggled to follow Molly’s directions. There was something very wonderful
about the arrival of the new little creature in the world, despite the mess
that surrounded it.

Molly had fallen asleep with the baby at her breast the
moment Esmeralda handed him to her when she finished cutting the cord. For a
minute or two, Esmeralda stood looking at her, knowing she should try to rouse
her so that they would not fall too far behind and become stragglers
themselves. But she could not find the strength. Her last reserves had been
expended in acting as midwife. Orders or no orders, she could go no farther.
She dragged two blankets over Molly, wrapped another around herself, and sank
down into a blessed unconsciousness. Her last thought was that she would
probably freeze to death, like the pathetic women and children they had seen,
but she no longer cared.

Fortunately, despite his temporary collapse, M’Guire was not
as exhausted as his wife or Esmeralda. He moved both women together and wrapped
them up, brought Luisa and Boa Viagem into the house to add the heat of their
bodies, and took up the broken floorboards with which he made a fire. Then he
and Carlos huddled together under the remaining blanket, but M’Guire propped
himself against the wall so that discomfort roused him as soon as the worst of
his exhaustion had passed.

It was late afternoon when he woke and shook the others
awake. By then they were far behind their escort. Esmeralda should have been in
despair, but the enforced rest had done her good, and she was able to think.
The rear guard, she knew, was a full day behind the main body of the army.
Thus, they were in no danger from the French until the rear guard passed. The
worst danger they would have to face were the renegades from their own army,
but that might be reduced by attaching themselves to any company that was
marching in reasonably good order. She handed Carlos his portion of food and
sent him out to watch for such a group and in the meantime, suggested that M’Guire
make another fire. They would eat and give all the remaining fodder to the
animals.

“Wherever we are going cannot be far,” she said. “Even Sir
John cannot expect men to march for much more than twenty-four hours without
rest.”

This conclusion, reached more out of hope than out of
reason, was quite correct. Before M’Guire had got his fire going, Carlos came
running back to tell Esmeralda that he had seen a file of men in good order
just coming over the rise. There was little to pack. M’Guire lifted Molly to
Luisa’s back, Esmeralda mounted Boa Viagem, and they came out to the side of
the road and waited. When the company was close, Esmeralda rode forward and
explained who she was and what had happened. The captain was courteous, but not
enthusiastic. If they could keep up, he said, he would do his best for them.

Had any of them known how close they were to Lugo, where Sir
John had halted the army, Esmeralda would not have bothered to wait for a
company in good order and the captain would have been warmly welcoming in the
hope of making a friend in high places. Still, they were all satisfied with the
outcome when they arrived about an hour later. One more unpleasant task lay
before Esmeralda—reporting herself to Colonel Wheatley. However, he was so glad
to see her alive and well that his strictures on her foolishness were minimal.

Relieved of immediate problems and shrinking from any
contemplation of the horrors she had seen, Esmeralda’s mind reverted to its
lodestar. Now she grieved at having parted from Robert in anger. She knew,
wryly, that he probably had not realized she was angry, but she had a vague
feeling that his hesitation before he left had been a silent appeal that she
had not answered. She was worried about him, too, although she had no idea that
he had been in great danger. From the vagueness of his answer when she had
asked where he would be, she assumed that he was detailed to do observation or
possibly act as liaison with the Spanish.

She knew, too, that it was pointless to ask for information about
Robert at headquarters. Major Colborne was doubtless aware of where she had
been quartered, or could find out, and Esmeralda trusted him to send her any
news he had. Thus, to occupy her mind and also to accustom herself to an
experience she expected to have, she offered to bathe Molly’s little son that
evening. The fire had warmed the room reasonably well, and she took the infant
on her lap, dipped a cloth into a bowl of warm water, and started to uncover
the child.

Esmeralda was aware, of course, of the impropriety of
becoming involved too personally with servants, but she and Molly had been
through too much together to worry about that. Thus, she did not hesitate to
ask a question that handling the baby had brought to her mind. As she exposed
one and then another small portion of the infant and cleaned it, she said, “Is
it always so quick, Molly?”

“Quick?” Molly repeated, looking up from the supper she was
preparing.

“The birthing,” Esmeralda explained. “It could not have been
fifteen or twenty minutes between the time you told us the baby was coming and
when it was born.”

Molly laughed. “No, ma’am, ‘twasn’t so quick as ‘t seemed.
Th’ pains started whin th’ mule fell, but loight they were, ‘n Oi kept hopin’
they’d stop, as sometoimes happens, or thit we’d git where we was goin’ before
‘t came.”

Esmeralda’s eyes were round with astonishment. “You mean you
walked all night—while you were in labor? Oh, Molly, I’m sorry I didn’t notice.
I was—” Suddenly the horrors she had deliberately excluded from her mind
surfaced. “All those people,” she whispered, “the soldiers, the women—”
Unconsciously, she wrapped the linen protectively around the infant in her lap
and caught him up in her arms. “The children.” A sob caught her voice. “The
poor little children…”

“‘Tis no use thinkin’ o’ thit,” Molly said sharply. “‘Twas
noon o’ yoor doin’ nor o’ moine. ‘Nd walkin’s good fer birthin’.” Then her lips
tightened. “But from whut wuz we runnin’? We niver saw iny inimy. Oh, as Oi
have th’ hope o’ hivin, so Oi hope thit th’ giniral rode up ‘n doon th’ road
‘nd saw whut we saw— ’Nd Oi hope he roides thit road feriver in hell, seein’
those babe’s froze ‘nd th’ little ‘uns limpin’, leavin’ bloody tracks ‘n th’
snow.” Her voice began to shake, and she stopped abruptly.

There was nothing Esmeralda could say. She liked Sir John,
who had been very kind to her personally, and up until now Robert respected his
military ability, but she had seen too much to utter platitudes about
necessity.

“Oi big yer pardon, ma’am,” Molly said softly. “’Tisn’t me
place t’ say sich things t’ ye, but ‘t would’ve bin me lyin’ there if no fer
ye.”

“And if not for you,” Esmeralda said, forcing a smile, “I
would be very frightened and very ignorant about many things I need to know.
And I would not have had the pleasure of meeting—good gracious, Molly, have you
decided what to call him?”