by Shea,Lisa
Her mother leant over. “Reynald was asking who the other midwives in the area were, so he could visit with them later today,” she prodded, her voice rich with concern.
“Oh, of course,” replied Sarah listlessly, her mind struggling to focus. It would be churlish of her to refuse him even this most basic information. She listed off the names of the other four midwives in the area, giving details for each on where they lived. Reynald listened intently, committing the information to memory.
A wave of weariness washed over her. She stood slowly, and her father and Reynald rose with her.
“I am sorry, but I think I should return to my room,” she apologized to the four. “Some more sleep would do me good.” She nodded to the group, then turned and headed toward the stairs.
A tripping set of footsteps sounded behind her, and in a moment her sister was following alongside her with a smile. “Hey Sarah, could I borrow some money from you? I promise to pay you back,” she cajoled with a grin.
Sarah chuckled as she carefully made her way up step by step. “You already owe me from past borrowings,” she pointed out congenially. “Besides, you have tapped me dry. I am down to what I need to fund the fall season of pots and vials. I am afraid I have naught to lend.” She paused a moment, doing a mental inventory of her short term list. “Well, how much do you need?”
“Only five pounds,” replied Rachel impishly.
“Hah!” burst out Sarah, shaking her head at the sum. “Sorry, but I just cannot foot that kind of bill.”
Rachel pouted prettily. “I will find it some other way,” she replied, shrugging. She reached her room, slipped within, and gave a friendly wave before she shut the door.
Sarah shook her head in amusement, then slowly made her way along to her bed. It was only moments before she was sound asleep.
Chapter 3
When Sarah awoke the next morning, her mind felt far sharper than on the previous few days, and her hunger had definitely returned. It was barely dawn, but she was famished! She pushed herself out of bed, dressed quickly, and headed downstairs. She worked her way back toward the larder, figuring she would grab a hunk of cheese to keep her stomach from rumbling until lunch. She knew her mother would not mind, but Father Smythe was sometimes overzealous in his discussions on the wasteful sin of a breakfast meal.
As she passed a window near the back courtyard, a movement caught her eye. She stopped and looked out, curious. A man was there, working through a sword routine with quiet deliberation. She stood by the window, transfixed, watching him in action. She had grown up around soldiers, certainly, and had participated in practice to gain the basic skills necessary to defend herself while she was out on her own. She had seen plenty of men with swords and understood the basic functions of attack and defense.
This was different, somehow. With the soldiers, the movements had been utilitarian, like a woodsman hacking down a tree. The man she watched now was elegant, seamless. It called to mind the times she had visited the master wood carver and watched him craft a fine piece of furniture. The tools were the same as other men used - and the material identical - but the control and finesse were on a different plane altogether.
Sarah stood, mesmerized, as Reynald flowed from one attack into another, deftly blocking with one motion while preparing a counter-attack with the next. He was so sure, so in control. He twisted to the side, then turned to swivel …
Suddenly Sarah was staring full into Reynald’s gaze. He stopped abruptly, freezing mid-stride, then stood up straight. To her shock, Reynald strode slowly toward the keep, an intent look on his face.
Sarah blushed crimson, embarrassed to have been caught while so boldly watching his private meditations. She half ran down the hallway, quickly reaching the pantry door. She frantically worked the lock to the seclusion of the shelves and casks. In another moment the door was open and she was in the half-dark room, surrounded by the fragrances of a hundred different items. She took in a deep, steadying breath, moving automatically to the back area where the large, yellow wheels sat covered with cheesecloth. Putting her hand on one, she drew the cloth aside and pulled her dagger from her belt to cut off a hunk.
“There you are,” murmured a low voice behind her. Her already keyed up emotions jumped to a higher state, and she let out a short shriek, spinning with her dagger out. Reynald put his hands out to the side, moving with lightning-fast speed to avoid the slicing weapon.
Sarah quickly lowered her blade, leaning back against the shelves. “You startled me,” she offered in embarrassment, her face flushing with guilt at the near miss. “You are lucky I did not wound you.” It occurred to her that it was his skill, and not luck, that had prevented injury; the speed with which he had pulled back from her swing was impressive.
Her heart hammered against her chest, but she forced herself to look up at him in the quiet dark of the large storage closet. Morning light filtered in gently through the half open door.
Reynald lowered his hands slowly and gave her a wry smile. “I did not mean to upset you,” he apologized in a low voice. “I spotted you through the window. I came to offer my regrets in person for causing your illness. I am fully to blame.”
Sarah cocked her head sideways, her breathing slowly returning to normal. “How do you figure that?” she asked with honest curiosity. “I was the one who traipsed through the rain. Lord only knows I have done that countless times in the past. You just happened to be there when it chanced to be the time I fell ill.”
“Still, I was there,” countered Reynald. “I could have been gentler in the gazebo, so you felt more comfortable staying under shelter until the storm passed. I also could have offered you something to act as a cover from the rain, once you decided to leave.”
Sarah chuckled. “I think you will find, Sir, that I am an adult and quite capable of choosing my own path. If I get into trouble, I will take responsibility for my action and look to blame no other. It is something our parents say to us often. We are encouraged to chase our dreams – as long as we accept the consequences of our actions.”
Her grin widened. “I have warned my patients enough times to stay out of drenching rain. If I do not practice what I preach, then woe be to me when I become annoyed with the consequences.”
With that, she turned and carved off a hunk of cheese, then two. She turned back to the man before her. “So, now that is out of the way, would you like a morning snack? I imagine you might be hungry after that workout.”
Reynald took the offering with a smile. He gave it a sniff before biting into the wedge. His eyes lit up with delight as he continued to eat. “This is quite good,” he praised after a short while. “I will have to pack some of this in my day sack.”
“Are you going out today?” asked Sarah, leaning against the shelf and nibbling on her own wedge. “Were the other midwives useful to you?”
“Yes, and thank you for your help. I did indeed spend Sunday afternoon visiting with each woman in turn, talking with her about her patients and experiences. It was quite illuminating; they had some fascinating stories to share. I did not get back here until long after dark.” He paused for a moment, holding her eyes. “However, you know as well as I do that the discussions turned up nothing of value for me. None knew anything about the bandits.”
Sarah suddenly felt the force of Reynald’s stare. He had not changed position at all, and his voice was dead calm, but she became acutely aware that he stood between her and her only exit. He was, after all, a soldier, and he appeared quite determined to get the information he wanted. Her dagger would be little help.
Her mouth went dry as she considered her options. He would not be so rash as to threaten her, would he?
A jingle of keys sounded down the hallway, followed by a mild expletive as the footsteps neared the half-open door. A low muttering voice could be heard, saying, “Is she at it again? If she winds those guards up any more with jealousy, they’ll turn into spinning tops ...”
A shape moved into the
open doorway, and Reynald turned to see who it was.
Sally’s young face fell open in shock as she met eyes with Sarah. “Oh! Miss ... it is ... I am so sorry ...” sputtered the woman in surprise. Her face burnished crimson, and she retreated quickly down the hall.
Reynald glanced quickly at Sarah, his face contrite. “I can go after her and explain -”
Sarah waved his concerns away absently, the spell broken. “Do not bother yourself about it. After all, we were just talking.” She walked past him out to the hallway, looking around as she heard the sounds of the castle stirring to life. “I will see you at lunch, then,” she added over her shoulder before heading out to the herb garden.
To her relief, he did not follow her there to interrupt her musings.
* * *
Sarah tried to take it easy during the misty day, keeping her efforts relegated to light weeding and pruning. She was indeed feeling better, but not quite full strength yet. True to his word, Reynald took his leave shortly after lunch, going out on a scouting expedition. Sarah knew that he was looking for the wanderers on his own.
She wondered nervously just why he was so interested in finding them. Had one of them stolen money from him on the road? Was she truly protecting lawbreakers? He had not volunteered the reason for his outing, and she had not wanted to ask and be drawn into a conversation on the topic.
The sun was heading down toward the horizon when a young, portly lad came running into the gardens, racing straight toward her side. “It is Cecily, M’Lady,” he called without preamble, his breath coming in gasps. “She is in a lot of pain, and her husband is frantic.”
Sarah was moving in an instant. “You go get some ale and take a rest,” she instructed him as she strode back toward the keep. “You have delivered your message well. I will head out immediately.” The boy collapsed onto a nearby bench in exhausted relief as she entered the main building and hurried up to her room. She sorted through her leather bag’s contents, ensuring all necessary medicines were present, then stood quickly, turning to leave.
The room spun for a moment, and she put out a hand to steady herself on her dresser. She closed her eyes in frustration, willing herself to regain her balance. Now was not the time for her to be ill. A full term woman was depending on her to be alert and in full command of the situation.
She took a moment to savor several deep breaths, and then she was off. She took the stairs two at a time going down to the stables. Lou, well used to reading her moods, was at her side in a heartbeat as she entered. Together they had the steed saddled and bridled in record time. Sarah carefully secured her bag and was swinging up to mount when hoofbeat sounded from the front gate.
Reynald raised his hand in a friendly greeting as he pulled into the stable proper, then his gaze focused on her face. He deftly wheeled his mount around to slide to a stop next to hers.
“A problem call?” he asked without preamble, his gaze piercing.
The need for haste pressed down on her, and her tone came out more sharply than she meant. “It is not the bandits,” she snapped in exasperation. “You can go on inside and get some ale.” She finished settling into her saddle, doing one last check on her supplies.
Reynald did not blink at her comment; his eyes held hers with serious intent. “I have been a field medic for many years; I have probably seen far more medical emergencies than you could imagine. You could use my help.”
Sarah looked up sharply, stunned into angry silence at his presumption. She needed his help? Of all the arrogance!
“I do not need any assistance,” she insisted, turning to gather up her reins. “What I need is to go. Now.”
“I will ride with you,” insisted Reynald, his face set.
Time was wasting; there was little she could do to stop him. Sarah exhaled in exasperation. “Fine, keep up with me then,” she challenged. With a press of her legs she was flying out the main gates.
Sarah did not look back as she thundered across the meadows and into the forest. If Reynald thought he was going to use her to gather information, it was time she taught him a lesson. The fastest way to Cecily’s home was through dense woods on an old animal trail. She knew it well, having ridden it weekly her entire life. If the roots and stumps slowed down the knight on her heels, she was not to blame. She leant low over her mount’s neck and urged him to go at an even greater speed.
She leapt the first log with ease, and twisted left to avoid the muddy bog formed by a warthog family. There were a few low hanging branches to avoid, and then another log. She took the course with ease, pushing her horse to his limits. The tree branches flew by only inches from her face. There was the rocky outcropping … and the old oak stump …
As the track twisted and turned, a guilty ache gnawed at her. She should have warned Reynald more firmly off the chase. A fall here, at these speeds, could cause a serious injury. If he hurt himself because of her ...
She pushed the thought out of her mind. He was a grown man, capable of taking care of himself. He could slow or turn back at any time if he felt out of his depth.
Cecily needed her.
She pressed onward, focusing intently on the path ahead.
The miles flew by in a blur of trunk and rock. The strain carved deep in her shoulders by the time the forest began to open up before her. It had been a half hour since she had left the keep, but it felt like far longer. Peering through the remaining trees, she could see the low, one story cottage that Cecily and her husband Milo had built two years ago, just after their wedding. There - Milo, his rail-thin form a wisp in the dusk, was pacing up and down before the wooden door.
The worried husband looked up with visible relief as she came thundering into the dirt clearing. She pulled her mount to a hard stop, then turned in surprise as she heard another set of hoofbeat closing behind her. Reynald reined in, his face showing the marks of a few errant branches.
Sarah’s temper flared with heat. Her admiration that he had managed to stay with her was quickly replaced with a fierce protectiveness over her ward. If he thought he was going to waltz in here and take charge of her patient …
Reynald slid off his mount with ease, motioning to her. “Go in, I have the horses,” he offered quietly, catching his breath.
Sarah paused a moment, startled at this apparent change of mood on his part, but she did not need a second push. She had her bag and was running through the open door in a heartbeat.
The cottage contained one large, well-kept room, and the simple wood-frame bed was against the far corner. Sarah dropped to her knees besides Cecily, taking in her strained face and sweat-drenched clothing in one encompassing look. Cecily’s eyes were closed in pain, her face wan.
“I am here, Cecily. It will be all right,” Sarah murmured reassuringly to the woman. She turned, sliding up the dress and chemise to take a look at Cecily’s bulging belly. She arranged the blanket to cover Cecily’s hips down to her feet. Sarah ran one hand, then two, across the rounded surface. Her face went white as she slid her hands carefully across the distended skin.
Milo strode into the room, with Reynald right behind him. After only a few steps Milo spun and shouted angrily at the stranger. “Who are you? This is my wife here!” His voice was near breaking with panic.
Sarah took in a deep breath, then spoke without turning her head from her patient, her voice low and commanding. “Milo, I know you are a jealous man. However, Sir Reynald is a knight, and I will need his help if your wife is to live. Make your decision quickly. Decide if you distrust his honor so much as to risk your wife’s life - and that of your unborn child.”
Milo’s eyes rounded with shock, and he was speechless for a moment. Then, taking a shaky breath, he sat down hard on a wooden chair by the door.
“Is it as bad as that, then?” He gulped visibly, dragging a shaking hand through his hair. “Please, save her,” he whispered, all fight draining out of him.
Reynald strode across the room to stand by Sarah’s side, looking down at th
e exhausted pregnant woman before them. To her relief, he did not offer up questions or make any demands.
“How can I help?” he asked quietly, his eyes moving to meet Sarah’s.
Sarah took in another a deep breath, then let it out with slow deliberation. She had only faced this problem once before in her years as a midwife; that had been seven years ago, with old Marigold as the lead caregiver. Marigold was gone now, and Sarah did not know if she was up to the challenge before her … but she had to try. She knew that none of the other midwives had ever successfully handled this issue. There was nobody else to call for help.
“The baby is breech; its feet are pointing downwards,” she explained softly, moving her hands cautiously over the lower part of the protruding belly. “It cannot be born like this.”
Reynald was nodding before she had finished. “My best friend, Charles, ran the stables for the Templars. Over the years of foaling we had this happen several times,” he agreed in understanding. “With a horse, we can actually reach inside and use ropes to turn the foal.” He looked down at the moaning woman before him. “I do not imagine -”
Sarah shook her head. “If only it were that easy,” she commented wryly. “We must do this from the outside.”
Reynald did not hesitate. “Tell me what to do.”
Sarah glanced over at Milo. His thin frame was curled up; his face strained with tension. Her heart went out to him, and she gently called him over. “We will need your help,” she commented with quiet calm. “Please bring us pots of hot water, any clean fabric you have, and a bottle or two of vegetable oil. That will help us turn the baby.”
His face brightening with the task, Milo burst off to comply.
Once Milo had left the room, Sarah took Reynald’s hands in her own, moving them across the protruding bulges where the baby’s head, body, and legs were located. “There is not much room in there,” she explained as they ran their hands over the taught skin. “It will take a while, but we have to help the baby rotate in that space without causing him any harm.”
