"I will stay here, milady, and I will manage. My growing shape does not stop me from finding food. My aim has not changed. I will not be foolish and ride anymore, but the woods are near and game is plentiful. I will gather twigs for my fire instead of cutting wood. I will take care not to harm my baby."
" 'Tis not that we did not think you could manage alone, Brenna," Heloise said. "We know you are able. But accidents can happen."
"I will be careful."
The older woman sighed. "If you will not live with us, will you at least consent to have someone stay with you here? Your aunt said you would take this stand and asked if she could come here to live with you. I agreed. If you will also agree, I will not worry over you."
Brenna did not answer immediately. To have her aunt with her again would be wonderful. Someone to share her new experiences with, when the baby kicked or a new stretch mark marred her skin, someone she loved who she could talk to.
"Would you give my aunt her freedom?"
"Brenna, you are being unreasonable."
"Would you?"
Heloise turned to her husband. "Brenna will agree to let Linnet stay here if you will give her her freedom."
"Nay! Never!"
"What is more important here?" Heloise said, losing her temper for once. "Brenna could die here alone; the child could die! She will not see reason, so we must!"
"Thor's teeth!" Anselm blustered. "Our lives were simple before I brought that girl here!"
"Well?"
"Do what you think best, mistress. Whatever it takes to see this girl cared for despite her foolishness."
"Linnet will come on the morrow, Brenna—as a freewoman. I will also send a strong woman to help with the more difficult tasks. You cannot expect your aunt to chop wood or lug water at her age."
Brenna smiled. "Very well, milady. But I will still make payments for this house. I will not live here on charity."
"You are the most stubborn girl I have ever known, Brenna. I can see you now, nearing your time, out in the woods hunting rabbit! You will be the scandal of the land."
Brenna laughed strongly, the first time she had done so for a long while. "I have been a scandal all my life, milady."
Brenna longed for the day it would all be over and she could hold her baby in her arms. She wanted a girl child, a little daughter like she had never been, with raven hair and gray eyes. She wanted to see nothing of Garrick in the child. Life had been cruel enough, and she needed no more of its disappointments.
With the end of summer the days grew shorter, but they still did not pass quickly enough for Brenna, who was quite large now. She still hunted in the woods, but not as often, for twice a week, every week, she found fresh meat or fish on her doorstep, and she could not very well throw it away. A cow had been left to graze in their back yard, and with extra time on Brenna's hands, she helped Linnet and Elaine, the servant Heloise had sent, make butter and cheese from fresh milk. Brenna enjoyed these times of sharing, but whenever Garrick entered her thoughts, she needed to be alone, to bear her hurt privately.
It was on such a day that Brenna went hunting, even though it was unnecessary. She walked deep into the woods, her brooding thoughts making her unaware of the distance she traveled. When at last she noticed her surroundings, she did not recognize them. She began to backtrack.
After she had gone a short way, Brenna had the gnawing suspicion that someone was watching her. She could not shake the feeling, even after looking about to see if anyone was there and finding no one. She continued on more quickly.
Then she saw the rider, too heavily cloaked for such mild weather, hood drawn so Brenna had no idea who it was. The rider just sat there atop a large horse, not more than fifty feet from her. Unreasoning fear made Brenna's hands begin to sweat. She loaded her crossbow, then moved on cautiously as if she were not disturbed in the least. She began to relax as she put distance between them until she heard the sound of a horse galloping at her from behind.
Brenna swung around just in time to get out of the way of the charging animal. It raced by, just barely missing her. Brenna could hardly believe what was happening. The rider had tried to kill her! When she saw him turn the horse about and come at her again, she began to run. She was too clumsy to run fast, and the sound of the horse approaching became louder and louder. She turned to fire her weapon, but she had waited too long, and the animal was upon her.
She was hit squarely on her shoulder and the impact knocked her to the ground, though she was able to brace her fall. She lay there breathing heavily and felt no injury. After a few seconds, the urge to reach safety returned. However, when she tried to rise, pains shot through her middle, making her scream from deep within. Then she heard the evil laughter, a woman's laughter, and the sound of the horse receding in the distance.
The pain came again and she screamed again, unable to stop. As she lay there feeling the black clouds of unconsciousness nearing, she could only think of one thing. Her baby was coming, but it was too soon, much too soon.
Brenna opened her eyes just a crack. Across the haze of bright sunlight filtering through the trees, she saw Garrick, his blond hair longer than usual, an unruly beard covering his face. Why would he look thus in her dream when she had never seen him this way before? He was holding her—no, he was carrying her someplace. She wanted to wake quickly, for even to dream of Garrick hurt her. Yet this was a different kind of pain, a dull, nagging ache.
"Go away, Garrick," Brenna whispered. "You are hurting me."
"Be still," he replied.
Garrick wanted her to suffer. He would haunt her dreams forever just to make her suffer. Dear God, the pain is real! She screamed, a sound she did not recognize as her own. Then the dream ended.
"First the fever, then she nearly dies of cold and starvation, and now this! How many times can she face death and survive?"
" 'Tis not a question of how many times, but whether she can survive this time,"
Brenna heard the low, whispering voices near her. First her aunt, then Heloise. Now she heard another voice, deeply masculine, coming from far away.
"Where is the child birther?"
"Who is that?" Brenna asked weakly.
Linnet came to her side and smoothed the hair away from her face. She was pale, and for once looked older than her years.
"Do not spend your strength with questions, Brenna. Here, drink this."
Linnet placed a cup of wine to her lips and she drank it all. Brenna stared at her aunt with growing alarm, feeling pain spreading through her body.
"Were you just speaking of me? Am I dying?"
"Please, Brenna, you must rest."
"Am I?"
"We pray not." Heloise came forward. "But you are bleeding, Brenna, and—and—"
"And my baby is coming now, too soon," Brenna finished for her, and a wave of fear made her skin crawl. "Will it live?"
"We do not know. Other babies have come before their time, only—"
"Go on."
"They were too small—too weak."
"My baby will live! It may be born weak, but I will make it strong!"
"Of course you will, Brenna," Heloise said to pacify her. "Now please rest."
"You doubt me!" Brenna became angry and tried to rise. "I will—"
She could not finish and fell back on the bed. Dull knives seemed to be digging away at her insides. She closed her eyes to fight the pain, but not before she had seen her surroundings. When the ache subsided, she glared at both women accusingly.
"Why have you brought me here, to his house? Why?"
"We did not bring you here, Brenna."
Then who?"
"He found you in the woods. 'Twas closer to bring you here rather than take you home."
At that moment Uda, the woman who had helped Cordelia birth her baby, came into the room and immediately started poking around Brenna. "This is not good," she clucked in her native tongue. "The bleeding is not much, but there should be none."
Brenn
a ignored her completely. "Who found me?" she questioned Heloise. "Did he see the woman who tried to kill me? I know it was a woman. I heard her laugh."
"Someone tried to kill you?"
"A woman. She came at me on a large black horse and knocked me down."
"No one wishes you harm, Brenna. Surely you imagined this. So much pain can make you think things that are not so."
"The pain did not start until after I fell!"
"But Garrick said no one was about when he found you," Heloise said.
Brenna paled as she remembered the short dream she had of him carrying her. "Garrick is back?"
"He returned a week ago."
All of the old fears returned twofold to Brenna. "You must take me home. I will not have my baby here!"
"We cannot move you now."
"Then you must swear you will not let him near my baby!" Brenna cried.
"Now cease this foolishness, Brenna!" Heloise said sharply. "Garrick wants your baby to live as much as you do."
"You lie!"
But then she was gripped by another stabbing pain more terrifying than the last, and there was no time left to plead as the pressure increased and demanded all her energy to propel her baby forward. And again, quickly, she felt the need to push with all her might.
Garrick stood in the open doorway to his room, feeling more helpless than he ever had in his life. He had heard all that Brenna had said, and her fears had cut into him like a steel blade. Still, he could not blame her for thinking him so cruel. When had he ever shown her differently?
Brenna's anguished cry shook him to his very soul. To think he had wanted to get as far away from Brenna as he could, to sail to the Far East and never see her again. He had only gotten as far as Birka before he was ready to turn back. He assumed Brenna would already be with her own people, and he came home simply to tell his father that he was going to bring her back, that he had finally concluded that he could not live without her, regardless of how she felt about him.
He was greeted with the news that she was still here, and the reason for it amazed him. Though he could not go to her then, for fear of upsetting her in her condition, each day he rode through the woods near her house, hoping to see her. And today, hearing her scream, then finding her unconscious—he was devastated with fear.
"A male child," Uda said, and held the infant in the air by its feet.
Garrick watched in awe, his eyes fastened on the tiny baby. Uda shook the child, then shook it again. Garrick held his breath, waiting for some sign of life.
"I am sorry," Uda said. "The baby is dead."
"Nay!" Garrick bellowed and came into the room. He took his son in his large hands and then stared helplessly at Uda. "He must not die. She will say I killed him!"
"The child cannot breathe. This happens to many babies. There is naught we can do."
Garrick looked down at the unmoving infant in his hands. "You must live! You must breathe!"
Heloise came to his side, tears in her eyes. "Garrick, please. You only torture yourself."
He did not hear his mother. He was torn apart inside, so aware of the air that moved his own chest yet did not move his son's. He stared at the tiny chest, willing it to fill with air. Without thinking, he blew his own breath into the baby's mouth.
"Aiee!" Uda shrieked. "What is he doing?" She ran from the room screaming. "He is mad!"
Nothing came of Garrick's desperate attempt to breathe his own life into his son. But he was beyond rational thinking and tried again, this time covering the infant's mouth and nose so the air would have no place to go but into his son. The tiny chest filled and the arms thrashed, then the infant gulped air by itself and emitted a cry so loud it echoed through the house.
"Praise God for this miracle!" Linnet cried, and fell to her knees to give thanks.
" 'Tis indeed a miracle, Garrick," Heloise said softly. "But one that you brought about. You gave life to your son."
He let her take the screaming baby from him. Miracle or not, he was too relieved to speak. He felt such overwhelming pride, as if this was the greatest accomplishment of his life, and nothing would ever come close to it again.
"I need not ask if you accept this child," Heloise said as she wrapped the baby in a blanket and placed it at Garrick's feet for the ceremonial acts of birth.
He bent down and held the child on his knee, then sprinkled water on it from a cup Heloise brought. He had seen his father do this to his sister, and he knew the same had been done to himself and Hugh.
"This child shall be called Selig, the Blessed."
"A good name, for he is surely blessed," Heloise remarked proudly, and took the baby once again. "Now go below and tell your father he has another grandson. His pride and joy will be as great as yours."
Garrick did not move toward the door; instead he walked slowly to his bed. Brenna's eyes were closed. He looked questioningly at Linnet.
"She fainted when the child was born," she told him as she wiped moisture from Brenna's brow. "She does not know you fought to save her son, but I will tell her."
But will she believe you? Garrick wondered. "I know she lost much blood. Will she live?"
"The bleeding has stopped. She will be weak, as the child is. We can only pray that they both gain strength quickly."
"Do not worry, Garrick," Heloise said from across the room where she bathed Selig in warm water, against his loud protests. "All that you did cannot be for naught Both child and mother will live."
Chapter 46
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FOR the first week after the baby's birth, every time Brenna woke she was filled with fear, and she could not dispel her feelings of apprehension until she assured herself her baby was all right. Her aunt had told her a wild tale about Garrick having saved her son's life, but she could not bring herself to believe it. If it were true, if he cared for the child at all, he would have come to see it. Not once did he come.
Brenna recovered slowly from the birthing, but Selig gained weight rapidly. It was a grievous disappointment to Brenna that she was not responsible for his glowing health. She had so wanted to give her baby the nourishment he needed, to be the only one he would be dependent on. But for some reason, either because of her weak condition or the fact that she did not take better care of herself in the early months when she carried him, her milk lasted only a fortnight.
She was filled with self-recriminations when Heloise insisted on bringing in a woman who had ample milk to give, having just lost her own child at birth. But Brenna accepted the situation quickly, knowing it was the only way. She made up for her lack with extra love, spending every possible moment fussing over her son. Then she was scolded by her aunt for overdoing it. She began to feel as if everyone was trying to alienate her from her child, that she could do nothing right.
Fortunately, her resentment did not last long and she bowed to the wisdom of her elders. She began to relax in the presence of her tiny son, to stop smothering him with this new love that she felt so strongly. Finally she was at ease when she cared for him, dressed him and bathed him. She let their relationship develop slowly. When he first smiled at her, she knew he was aware of her love.
Brenna also knew it was time they went home. The only reason she had stayed this long in Garrick's house, nearly three months, was because she had not once seen Garrick in all that time. She did not know where he slept, or if he was even in the house. Nor could she bring herself to ask anyone about him, not even Janie or Maudya.
Her two old friends cooed over Selig every time they brought Brenna her meals, and they remarked many a time at how improved their lives were since he was born. Brenna did not question this either. She could only assume that Garrick was so loath to be near that he had gone to live elsewhere, no doubt at Morna's, while she occupied his house.
When Brenna told her aunt that she was ready to go home, Linnet did not voice any objections. "You will live with me, will you not?" Brenna asked hopefully.
"For a while more. But event
ually I will return to Anselm's settlement."
"But you are a freewoman now," Brenna protested. "You need not go back there."
"I have many friends there."
Brenna sighed. "And you miss Heloise?"
"Yea."
"And Garrick's father?"
"I am not ashamed that I share his bed on occasion, Brenna," Linnet said defensively.
"I do not judge you, Aunt. If this is what you want, then who am I to tell you nay?"
"I know that Anselm's one true love is Heloise, but he does care for me. And I love Heloise also. She has been a true and worthy friend." Linnet laughed. "A strange relationship we have. Still, I am content with it."
"You should have better."
"Nay, Brenna, I am happy," Linnet said. "I know you hate Anselm, but—"
"I do not hate him anymore, Aunt." Brenna interrupted. "When Anselm first held my son in his arms, I remembered the day he attacked our manor, the hatred and blood-lust on his face. Yet when he held his grandson, there was such love in his expression. He has done much for me that I am grateful for. I still do not know if I can ever completely forgive what he did, but there is no longer hate in me."
"I am pleased," Linnet smiled. "I think you have finally grown up, Brenna."
Brenna returned to her little house the day before the first winter storm. When she trudged through the snow in search of game, she actually felt as if she had grown accustomed to this land and its harsh climate.
And so the time passed. Still Garrick did not come to see his son. After the winter solstice celebration, which Linnet attended without Brenna even though she had been invited too, Linnet returned to Anselm's settlement. Brenna missed her, but she did not lack for company. Leala, the woman Heloise had found for Selig, still lived with her, having taken Elaine's place. And Cordelia came often to visit with little Athol.
Brenna returned home early from hunting, for she had quickly exhausted her supply of arrows. She was angry at herself for having missed one rabbit so many times before it finally got away. When she left the woods and saw the horse in her yard, Garrick's horse, she was first filled with mixed feelings, but then her anger grew. How dare he come now, seven months after the birth of his son?
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