older, a childless widow with a plain face and no special talents. Her sister-in-law had already ascertained that she could not sing and didn’t like to dance—these being two things Deorwynn enjoyed very much. Neither did Emma like to hunt and she rode only when forced. The two women, therefore, had little in common beyond their gender and their connections now through marriage.
Yet Emma felt a bond already with Deorwynn.
Their steps clicked across the stone floor. Once inside the thick castle walls, cooler air surrounded the two women. The light within was softer, the outside noise muffled to a drone. After sitting a while, Deorwynn’s eyes began to close and Emma persuaded her to go to bed and catch up on her sleep.
Before she left, the woman said to Emma, “I know you will take care of my brother if anything happens to me. It is a great relief to me that you are here now, with us.”
Emma looked at the other woman’s wide eyes and saw the fear she’d been trying to hide. There were dark hollows beneath each brown orb and beads of sweat gleamed along her hairline. Deorwynn was young, only one and twenty. Suddenly she looked even younger, her body over-whelmed by the size of her belly. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you,” Emma told her calmly, moving sticky strands of hair back from the anxious woman’s face.
“But how do you know?” Deorwynn winced, one hand on her lower back. “I could die. If I die, will you take care of the babe Emma?”
She swallowed hard. There was a time when all she could think about was having a child of her own. The loss, the failure had raked at her heart like cruel, sharp witches fingernails, digging in each time she heard of another woman’s child born. It was not that she envied their happiness or hated them for doing what she could not. She hated herself, despised her body for failing in that task for which it was made by God. What was the purpose of her life, she’d thought then, if she could not have children? In time, slowly, the pain had dulled. It came back occasionally with a sharp wrench of the gut, but most of the time she kept it locked away. No one, she was quite sure, wanted to see her mope. She had no time for mopers herself.
“Of course I will help take care of your child, Deorwynn. But you are not going to die. You are strong, young and healthy and you have people here who love and care for you. Now go to bed and rest.”
“But it’s afternoon!”
“And you’re exhausted. That will do the babe no good will it? You need all your strength for what is to come. Now go to bed. Don’t get up for a few hours at least. I’ll send some food and drink up to you.”
Slowly the young woman nodded and then began to walk up the steps to her chamber, helped by one of the maids. She stopped, looking back. “You are the first person who has been able to tell me what to do, Emma. My husband tried, my brother tried, my maid tried, the midwife tried…you have a very persuasive, motherly way about you.” She grinned. “I shall call you my mother hen.”
Emma winced. Mother hen ? Yes, she supposed she did seem like an old hen to that cheeky young girl.
Guy Devaux suddenly appeared in the main doorway, looking for his wife. “Is she alright? Where is she?” He looked panicked.
“She has gone up to rest. She is quite well, just a little hot and tired. ‘Tis no surprise in this weather.”
The man seemed only partially reassured and hurried upstairs after his young wife. Emma went outside to order some refreshment for Deorwynn, as promised.
* * * *
The crowd thinned as the afternoon turned dusty and oppressive. The light yellowed and the air hung heavy with the promise of a storm. People and animals sought cooler spots in the shadows and some retired indoors. She found Wulf where she knew she would. In his workshop. Even on his wedding day.
This time she knocked before she entered.
“Your sister has gone to rest at last,” she said.
“Aye.
Yet Emma felt a bond already with Deorwynn.
Their steps clicked across the stone floor. Once inside the thick castle walls, cooler air surrounded the two women. The light within was softer, the outside noise muffled to a drone. After sitting a while, Deorwynn’s eyes began to close and Emma persuaded her to go to bed and catch up on her sleep.
Before she left, the woman said to Emma, “I know you will take care of my brother if anything happens to me. It is a great relief to me that you are here now, with us.”
Emma looked at the other woman’s wide eyes and saw the fear she’d been trying to hide. There were dark hollows beneath each brown orb and beads of sweat gleamed along her hairline. Deorwynn was young, only one and twenty. Suddenly she looked even younger, her body over-whelmed by the size of her belly. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you,” Emma told her calmly, moving sticky strands of hair back from the anxious woman’s face.
“But how do you know?” Deorwynn winced, one hand on her lower back. “I could die. If I die, will you take care of the babe Emma?”
She swallowed hard. There was a time when all she could think about was having a child of her own. The loss, the failure had raked at her heart like cruel, sharp witches fingernails, digging in each time she heard of another woman’s child born. It was not that she envied their happiness or hated them for doing what she could not. She hated herself, despised her body for failing in that task for which it was made by God. What was the purpose of her life, she’d thought then, if she could not have children? In time, slowly, the pain had dulled. It came back occasionally with a sharp wrench of the gut, but most of the time she kept it locked away. No one, she was quite sure, wanted to see her mope. She had no time for mopers herself.
“Of course I will help take care of your child, Deorwynn. But you are not going to die. You are strong, young and healthy and you have people here who love and care for you. Now go to bed and rest.”
“But it’s afternoon!”
“And you’re exhausted. That will do the babe no good will it? You need all your strength for what is to come. Now go to bed. Don’t get up for a few hours at least. I’ll send some food and drink up to you.”
Slowly the young woman nodded and then began to walk up the steps to her chamber, helped by one of the maids. She stopped, looking back. “You are the first person who has been able to tell me what to do, Emma. My husband tried, my brother tried, my maid tried, the midwife tried…you have a very persuasive, motherly way about you.” She grinned. “I shall call you my mother hen.”
Emma winced. Mother hen ? Yes, she supposed she did seem like an old hen to that cheeky young girl.
Guy Devaux suddenly appeared in the main doorway, looking for his wife. “Is she alright? Where is she?” He looked panicked.
“She has gone up to rest. She is quite well, just a little hot and tired. ‘Tis no surprise in this weather.”
The man seemed only partially reassured and hurried upstairs after his young wife. Emma went outside to order some refreshment for Deorwynn, as promised.
* * * *
The crowd thinned as the afternoon turned dusty and oppressive. The light yellowed and the air hung heavy with the promise of a storm. People and animals sought cooler spots in the shadows and some retired indoors. She found Wulf where she knew she would. In his workshop. Even on his wedding day.
This time she knocked before she entered.
“Your sister has gone to rest at last,” she said.
“Aye.
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