by Kim Bowman
Owen had been dead for more than two moons but still the shadow of him haunted her every thought. She visited his ailing father almost daily. The guilt would torture her if she didn’t pay him some small token of condolence.
“Are you not well?” A concerned voice interrupted her thoughts.
“I’m fine. ’Tis just my grief that pains me, Abby,” Brynn told her friend while returning to her cooking station.
“Are you sure, love? You haven’t been yourself for quite some time.”
Brynn could understand Abby’s concern, but there was no use in coddling her. Her heart would heal in time. “Let us please just finish this meal so that I might take it to him and get it over with all the sooner.” Brynn had been called into Lord Westmore’s service the day after Owen had died for her. She saw to his meals twice daily, ran errands for him, and sometimes helped his maids dress him when he made her stay. He had not bedded her yet, thank the gods, but had kissed her and roamed his hands freely over her body, exploring her curves and staking claim to what he thought was rightfully his. She didn’t return his favors — it shamed her to let him do so, but she had no choice. Her lack of interest seemed to keep him at bay, and no longer being a virgin curbed his fascination with her. Now she was just like any other slave, and lucky to still be alive. Brynn learned very quickly to let another one of his servants see to him when he was well within his cups.
Abby raised a wary eyebrow. “Very well, then.” From a pail beneath the table, Abby withdrew a dead duck, plucked and ready for roasting.
Brynn took one look at it, covered her mouth with her fingers, and ran to the corner to vomit into the rubbish bucket.
The women in the kitchen clucked their tongues. Abby let out a hearty laugh.
Brynn spat into the bucket and wiped her mouth with her apron before taking a small sip from the water ladle to rinse the foul taste from her mouth. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Sit down, love, and catch your breath.”
“I’m fine!”
“And I’m the bonny Queen of Engel! Might I ask you a question?” Abby reached for a butcher’s knife and raised it high over the head of the dead duck.
Brynn nodded, looking away from her friend as the knife found its mark and the duck’s head went flying off the counter, bouncing to the corner of the room.
“When was your last woman’s courses?”
“My what?” Brynn sputtered.
“Your last bleed, Brynn.”
“I… do not recall.”
“Think, Brynn. Think hard.” Abby grinned, placing her arms on her hips. “Was it before or after you opened your legs to your lover?”
Brynn could only stare, astonished. “I… umm…” Her eyes widened at the startling revelation, and her heart raced. Her hands flew to her belly in a panic. “No…”
~~~~
Although weary from a long days’ work, Brynn couldn’t settle her mind and allow herself to sleep. The evening events still rapidly swam nervously through her thoughts. She turned toward the edge of the bed she shared with Abby.
“Does the babe pain you still?” A groggy voice croaked.
“’Tis asleep, I think,” Brynn replied.
“Something else troubles you then?”
“Aye. Lord Westmore has been taking more… liberties. He placed his hands on me this eve when I served his meal. He laughed at me and told me I had been eating very well. I fear I cannot hide my growing belly for much longer. I have no more skirts to let out, and if anyone were ever to learn of my… condition, I’m scared of what he might do to me… or the babe.”
Abby murmured her agreement.
“I’ve been thinking for a while, Abby, about what I might do, and I think we should leave.” With no response from Abby, Brynn continued. “I’ve seen Lord Westmore’s maps. In two days time he marches toward the Southlands. I think he intends on bringing me with him. He mentioned I would like my accommodations at his future fortifications. I cannot let that happen, so if we are to slip away unnoticed, this would be our one chance.” It would be no easy feat, but possible. The Engel soldiers were used to Brynn’s presence and she could easily take supplies and food without causing a stir. They would need money and horses and would need to find everything in just two days time.
“What say you?” Brynn whispered to Abby.
Abby’s breathing staggered. “I love you like my own child, Brynn, and that babe growing in your womb. I cannot fathom the evil that Westmore will bestow upon you both if he were to learn his prized Archaean girl carried another man’s seed. We have no other choice. I know where we can get the needed coin, but it might be there no longer. Tomorrow night we shall see.”
The women planned their escape while they worked. Every so often one would hide a hunk of dried meat or a loaf of bread, or stow away a water bladder where it could be later taken to the loft in secrecy. Brynn was excited, and it showed on her face. She smiled and laughed, things she hadn’t done since Owen died. The guilt had been overwhelming at times; she still had to face the tavern on a daily basis. She would find herself mindlessly turning to speak to him — only Owen wasn’t there. A shadow of where he had once been was all that was left.
Her life needed a new course. A change was on the horizon — she only had to get there.
With the paper tucked securely in her satchel along with a fire starting kit, some food and extra clothing, Brynn could barely hold in her excitement as she raced back to the tavern loft to show Abby her discoveries. The map had been tossed aside, simply forgotten about. A drunken soldier left his pack out in the open for all to see, and when Brynn tidied up the mess, she covertly snuck the fire kit and the map under her full skirts. The extra clothes she took were to be mended — what luck she had stumbled on! Abby would be sure to scold her for being so late, but when shown the prize, hopefully all would be forgiven.
Brynn couldn’t have been more right. Abby was thrilled with the detailed map graphing the highlands, the midlands, and most of the western section of the Engel territories. Lord Westmore’s camps and strongholds were marked on the map, so the women would easily be able to avoid those areas during their trek toward a new life.
“So where do we go?” Abby smiled. All was falling into place easily.
“Why, Dunlogh, of course!” Brynn’s smile warmed the room. “You have spoken of its beauty and homeward shores. I can think of no better place.” She placed her palm on her rounded belly.
Abby wrapped her arms around Brynn’s shoulders. “Oh, my child, you are truly a blessing for this old woman.”
They laughed together with their treasures spread around them on the bed. They spoke of new beginnings and of the adventures they would have running from the dirty Engels — which made them both laugh so hard they wept. They were running deep into Archaean lands when just a short time ago Brynn would have given anything to return to Engel.
“All we need now is a fat purse of silver and a few fine mounts to get us through our journey.”
“That seems to be where our luck runs out, Abby. I wasn’t able to locate any spare horses or purses of money just lying about for the taking. I hope you have a plan for that part.”
“Of course I do.” The laughter quickly faded from Abby’s voice. “But it won’t be easy. We must return to Daman’s.”
A thick blanket of clouds covered the moon when the women left the safety of their loft. They hadn’t returned to Daman’s since the night of his murder. Brynn took great care in avoiding places reminding her of Marek. She knew without a doubt that he killed Daman as some sort of justification for what happened to her. Punished by death, when Marek was just as much at fault as Daman was for what had happened — but she had to put it behind her and focus on her new life. She had all the memories she could ever want of Marek growing inside of her.
What was left of the shack was dark and quiet. The front door had been ripped from its hinges and now sat propped against the outer wall. The two women cautiously slipped ins
ide. The stench within immediately made them gag. Brynn held up the lantern, determined to continue on, and covered her nose and mouth with her apron.
“Follow me,” Abby whispered. She led Brynn to the back of the shack toward the kitchen. “I cooked for Daman many a time over the years here.. He grew accustomed to my presence and foolishly believed I wouldn’t remember his secrets — like where he hid his coin.”
As they rounded the corner to the kitchen, there in the corner seeped into the wooden floor were the bloodstains of Daman where Marek had struck him dead. “’Tis just over there.” Abby pointed to the opposite corner while rushing past the bloody patch on the floor. A rat scurried over her boots, and both women shouted out before ending with nervous laughter.
Abby knelt down to the threshold of a doorway and pried at the rickety board with her fingers. “I would often see him hide things under here, and it looks as though it has been left undiscovered. I assumed it would have been the first of his things to be taken. I wish I had taken the time to look.”
“Here, let me help you.” With Brynn on one side and Abby tugging on the other, the board popped free, sending the women reeling to their backsides.
Both righted themselves, anxious to peer into the dark hole. Brynn held the lantern high and a soft glow fell onto the many pouches of coin, jewelry, and other valuables.
“’Tis there, Abby, look! Quickly, take it!” Brynn held open her satchel and eagerly awaited the retrieval. Pouch after pouch, Abby emptied the hidden treasure trove. “Why, there’s enough here to buy a stable ten times over! We don’t need to steal horses, we can simply buy them!” Brynn laughed while wiping a tear from her cheek.
A matching tear rolled down the old woman’s cheek, settling into a fine wrinkle at the corner of her mouth. “Come, we mustn’t tarry. We have much work to do.”
~~~~
A moonless night.
Perfect.
Their bags packed, both whispered a small prayer of protection before heading to the stables to procure horses. “Wait here,” Brynn told Abby as she set her bags down. “I’ll be back shortly.” She pulled her arisaidh over her shoulders, hiding her features.
The stable was crowded, as she had expected it to be. Lord Westmore’s men were preparing to leave. If she were to be recognized, they would think nothing more of it — after all, she was to prepare to depart with them in the early hours of the morning. Taking horses to ready her things wouldn’t be out of sorts.
Putting all thoughts of deceit and doubt from her mind, Brynn entered the stable, found the three horses she wanted, then sought out the groom. He was busy with his nose buried in his accounting book. She silently retreated, changing her mind at the last moment to just take them. He wouldn’t notice.
With two horses fully tacked and one loaded for a packhorse, she led them toward the exit.
“Oy, you there!”
She stopped in her tracks, the horses almost pushing her down. Slowly, she turned to face the groom. “Aye?”
“What do you think you are doing?” He snapped, approaching her.
A sly smile curled her lips as she looked up from beneath sooty lashes. “Why, I’m taking these horses.”
“No you are not. Those belong to Lord Westmore.”
She beckoned him closer with her finger.
He stepped forward, but hesitated, as if scared by her.
Once more, she urged him closer. Then closer. Finally, he was near enough that she could step on his boots if he were to move any further. She leaned in to him and whispered, “And who do you think I belong to?”
The groom pulled away. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t know ’twas you. Forgive me.”
Brynn reached into her satchel, pulled out a small leather pouch, and placed it in the groom’s hand. “For your silence.”
The groom jingled the pouch before opening it. Inside was a purse-full of coins. His eyes grew wide, and his jaw dropped. He pulled the drawstring of the pouch closed and tucked it securely to the inside of his tunic and smiled. Silence, indeed.
Brynn turned on her heels and exited the stable. With one hand supporting her belly and another leading the horses, Brynn crested the hill returning to Abby. “We must hurry. They are readying to leave, and someone will notice when I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”
“I cannot believe this is happening.” Abby giggled like a little girl as she helped Brynn stow their belongings on the packhorse.
“Ready?”
“As I shall ever be.”
~~~~
“Abby, we must rest. Please.” The long trip to Dunlogh had not been kind to Brynn.
“But we must cover more ground today. We are sorely behind schedule.” Abby carefully refolded the worn map and tucked it away in her bodice. “Once we’re past the hills of Sligo, we’ll be deep into Northern Archaean territory where they fiercely protect their own. No Engel will dare follow us there.” They had managed to elude Lord Westmore’s men for months, thanks to Abby’s knowledge of the land and the map Brynn had stolen.
Brynn pulled her mount to a halt. “If we go any further, I will be birthing this babe on horseback.”
“Why did you not say something? We must find an inn.”
Brynn clenched her eyes tight and waited for the tightening of her womb to slow. “How much further?”
“There’s a small village just over the next rise. We shall seek shelter there. Besides, the sky looks as though a storm in the heavens is about to wretch down upon us.”
By the time the women found the inn, they were soaked through and Brynn was writhing in labor pains. She nearly fell dismounting as a contraction rendered her helpless. Thankfully, a young stable boy broke her fall.
Abby sought out the innkeeper, towing Brynn behind her. “Sir, we need a room, and quickly. My… daughter is about to give birth.”
“This is no place to be birthing babes. Perhaps you should just travel a bit farther home?” the innkeeper replied, eyeing the distraught, soaking mess of fabric and dirt.
“Please, sir, there is no time. I was visiting in a nearby village, and I cannot make it home. I’m afraid my husband has been caught in the storm and cannot fetch me. Please, just allow me a bed and some clean water. We can pay you very well for your trouble, sir.” Another wave of pain hit her, sending a gush of fluid to the floor between her legs. Brynn screamed out and clutched Abby’s arm to stay upright.
The innkeeper looked down at the mess and sighed. “I will fetch my wife to assist you. She is a rather good midwife. Colleen, please show them the back room and give them anything they might need.”
“Thank you.” Abby gave the innkeeper a warm smile and placed a handful of coins on the table next to him. “For your troubles, good sir. You are most generous.”
~~~~
Outside the inn, the Engel Captain motioned to his men. “Check every door. We must find them.”
“Captain, perhaps we are just chasing ghosts? All Archaeans look the same, how are we to know these sightings are even them?”
The captain glared at his men. “Our orders are to follow all leads. I don’t want to be the one to tell him we lost her — do you want to?”
“No, sir.”
“Then start looking before the rain washes away all traces of them!”
~~~~
“Just one more time, love.”
“I cannot!” Brynn cried out. “I cannot do this anymore!”
“You have to, Brynn. Now, the next time the pain comes, I want you to push with all your might. The end is near.”
Brynn nodded and laid her head back on the pillow, seeking some shred of relief while Abby wiped her forehead with a damp cloth. Tears clung to her flushed cheeks. “I wish he was here,” she muttered, choking back a sob.
“Who?” The innkeeper’s wife questioned Abby.
“Oh… her husband. They are very much in love. ’Tis a shame he cannot be here for the arrival of his first born.” Brynn’s grip on Abby’s hand tightened, signali
ng the rise of another impending labor pain.
There was a knock on the door, and the innkeeper’s wife left Brynn’s side to answer it. “Just the maid,” she stated, but behind the door stood not the maid, but her husband with two Engel soldiers.
“I’m sorry, my wife, but they insisted on seeing the travelers.”
His wife placed both hands on her hips and frowned at them. “What ails you men? Can you not see that a child is being born here? By all means, come and look,” she clucked, “but let me do my work!” She rushed back to Brynn as she let out a gut-wrenching moan that would scare even the brawniest of men away.
One man edged forward, glanced back at his partner, then took a step backward.
“Get out!” Brynn screeched at him as she wrapped her arms around her knees, hunching over her belly.
“It couldn’t possibly be them,” the soldier muttered to the other. “We must have followed the wrong trail.” The Engels disappeared, shutting the door behind them.
“Just one more push!” The midwife urged Brynn, a wide grin gracing her aging face. “The babe is almost out!”
Brynn pushed once more, and the tiny being slid into the midwife’s arms.
Brynn slumped backward with relief. She had done it.
“A boy!” The nursemaid laughed. “And a right strapping lad he is, too!”
Brynn pushed herself up. “What?” She had prayed to the gods the babe would be a girl.
“Ohh,” cooed Abby, helping the innkeeper’s wife clean off the newborn. “He looks just like his da.”
Brynn groaned, returning to the bed.
