"Nay" came the answer. "Not until you are an old woman like me, and your flow ceases to be because you are no longer fertile. Such things do not happen to young girls like yourself, lady. Now, when will you tell the lord of this happy fortune?"

"Let us wait until a third cycle has passed me by," Elf said thoughtfully. "You will say nothing, old Ida. No broad hints, or knowing suggestive looks, either. I need more education in the matter."

"Then, speak with John’s wife, Orva, lady. She is a mother, and a grandmother several times over. It is she who delivers all the babies born on the manor. She will deliver yours."

The very next day Elf carried a basket of apples and pears to her bailiff’s cottage, which was a larger and better-built dwelling than an ordinary serf's. Seated outside her cottage sewing, Orva arose and curtsied.

"Good day, Orva," Elf said. "I have brought you a basket of fruit. I would speak with you."

"Come in, lady," the bailiff’s wife invited, and when her guest had entered the cottage, Orva led her to a stool by the fire. "How may I help you, lady?"

"Having spent most of my life at St. Frideswide's, I know very little of the things ordinary women know," Elf began.

"You think you are with child," Orva said quietly.

"I thought nothing," Elf admitted. "It was old Ida who brought it to my attention. I feel very foolish, I must tell you."

"Nay, lady, you must not. Your upbringing, and the vocation planned for you would hardly include knowledge of this kind. Besides, most young women are never certain the first time they bear young," Orva said in motherly tones. "Now, tell me, lady, when was your last flow of blood?"

"Two weeks after Lammastide," Elf said. "There has been nothing at all since."

"Has your flow ever ceased.since you began having a moon link?"

Elf shook her head in the negative.

"Have you noticed that perhaps your breasts are growing larger? Or that you suffer from nausea of late? Do certain foods repel you?"

"Yes! I noticed my breasts because when I wore my bliaut at Michaelmas, it was tight in the chest! I can hardly eat a thing these days. Only the mint tea I brew will bring me a measure of peace. And my nipples!" Here Elf blushed. "They have, of a sudden, become very, very sensitive."

Orva smiled wisely. "You are with child, lady. From the dates you give me, I would say the child is due at the very end of May, or in the first week of June. Your complaint of the belly will cease shortly, but your breasts will continue to grow larger as they prepare to nourish your child. Your belly will also swell as the child grows."

"What must I do?"

"Eat simply," Orva advised. "Avoid sauces and too much salt. And, lady, do not drink wine. Better you have beer to help enrich your milk, but only if it tastes good to you. I shall come to the manor house each morning, lady, to see how you are doing. Ask me any questions you desire, and do not fear to feel foolish. Only when you are my age with five living children, and seven grandchildren, can you claim to know a great deal, and even then"-she chuckled-"you discover each day how much you have left to learn."

"You will help me when my time comes?" Elf asked nervously.

"Lady, that is my responsibility here at Ashlin, to deliver the babies, but you would not know that having been away so long. I have delivered every child born here for the past twenty years, and before me, my mother did likewise. I delivered you, my lady."

"You did?" Elf’s gray eyes grew wide with the knowledge. It was, she realized, extremely comforting to know this fact. Orva had brought her into the world, and Orva would bring her baby into it.

"Aye, I did," Orva said. "You are much like your mother, you know, but far prettier. She had an easy time with her confinements and her births. She looked delicate, but she was strong."

"Yet she had but two children, and Dickon and I were separated by ten years," Elf noted.

"Nay, lady," Orva corrected her. "Your mother bore six children, with you, the youngest. The first was Robert, named for your father. He died of a chill within the year of his birth. Then came the lord Richard. He was followed by two wee laddies, stillbirths both, born in the years your father was at war. How his going frightened your mother. She was not a wife who could send her man off bravely. Your sister, Adela, was born two years before you were. She was just beginning to walk when she was struck down by a spring epidemic of spotting sickness. Your mother was heartbroken, but by autumn that same year she was with child again, and that child was you!"

"I never knew Mama bore all those babies," Elf said thoughtfully. And what else had she missed? "How sad she lost them."

" 'Tis the way of the world, lady," Orva said pragmatically. "She wept as we all weep when we lose a child. It happens."

"It frightens me to think I might lose my child."

"You must not be frightened, lady," Orva advised. "Your mother had bad luck, that is all. Look at me. I have birthed five, and all five are grown and healthy, praise God! You do what I tell you, lady, and you will have a strong babe come next summer."

"Shall I tell my husband, or shall I wait until I have passed my next moon cycle?"

"That is your decision, lady. Sometimes with the first a woman likes to hoard the wonderful secret to herself for a time and not share it," Orva told her.

"One thing," Elf ventured, and she blushed. "Must we cease lovemaking until after the babe is born?"

"He is a big man, the lord, and you are a dainty lady; but if he is very careful, and you are not uncomfortable, I see no reason why you cannot continue on together. Tell the lord to come to me, and I will instruct him in certain ways that are safe as your belly grows larger and more unwieldy," Orva said.

Elf arose, smiling at the older woman. "I thank you, Orva. I was frightened, but now I am not."

"You should not be, lady. Bearing a child is the most wonderful and the most natural thing in the world for a woman to do. You are a wholesome and healthy girl. You will be fine. Do not, however, and I mean no disrespect, listen to my husband’s mother. Old Ida means well, but her knowledge is not always sound."

Elf laughed. "She is very dour, filled with dire predictions, even if she doesn't utter most of them."

"How is Willa doing?" Orva asked. "She is my daughter, you know. Just a year younger than Arthur."

"Nay, I did not realize she was your daughter," Elf answered the older woman. "She is a good girl, and serves me well."

"I am glad of it, lady," Orva said, escorting her mistress outside again. "Oh, dear," she exclaimed, for about her cottage were a crowd of women, all anxiously looking toward them. "I should not have asked you inside, lady. We should have walked together in private. All these busybodies will have divined why you have come to see me. The manor will be rife with gossip by tonight, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. I think if you wish to tell your husband of his good fortune, you had best do it today. Do not be angry, lady, for these women mean well. They will rejoice with you that Ashlin is to have an heir of your body, that the line of Harold Strongbow, Rowena Strongbowsdatter, and her de Montfort lord continues through you."

Elf looked at all the anxious faces. They were kind faces, faces she knew. She began to laugh. "In June," she said, "but for sweet Mary’s sake, do not gossip until I have had the opportunity to tell my husband."

"But when will you tell him?" the miller’s wife asked boldly.

"I think it must be soon," Orva answered for Elf, "for here is the lord now, coming on the run. Someone has told him you were with me."

"Petite, are you all right?" Ranulf ran up to his wife, breathless.

"I am fine, my lord," Elf said calmly.

"But I was told you had come to see John’s wife," he said nervously.

"Who else would I come to see but the midwife when I am expecting our child," Elf replied sweetly. "And just who told you I was here? As if I don't already know!" She feigned outrage.

"You are having a baby? You are having a baby!" he shouted, a wide grin splitting his face. Then he picked her up in his arms. "You must put no strain upon yourself, petite."

The women about them burst out into unrestrained laughter.

"Put me down, Ranulf," Elf said, laughing herself. "I am having a baby, the most natural of female talents. I am not ill, nor am I injured. Put me down this instant!"

Reluctantly he complied. "But should you not rest, Eleanore?"

"When she is tired, my lord, absolutely," Orva said with a reassuring smile. "She may live her life as normally as if she were not with child. At least for now. And as you are here, my lord, will you come into my cottage, for I would speak with you privately."

Elf grinned, and the women about them hooted with laughter again, for their men had all received Orva’s lectures and instructions when they were first with child.

Still chuckling-and feeling infinitely better-Elf walked back to the house whistling happily. She was not barren stock. She was not like her brother’s wife. At the thought of Isleen de Warenne, a shiver ran down her spine. Elf shook it off quickly. Nothing could spoil her happiness. She was going to have a baby!

Chapter 10

Clud, the whoremonger, raised his hand and hit the woman a third blow. "You will do as you are told, you English bitch!" he snarled.

Isleen de Warenne struggled to her feet, and hit her attacker so hard with both fists that the lame man staggered. "I am no common whore," she screamed at him.

"Perhaps not a common whore," Clud said, grabbing the woman by her long blond braid, "but a whore nonetheless. I bought you fairly, and now I will have a return on my investment."

"I am the daughter of Baron Hugh de Warenne! I am the widow of the lord of Ashlin," Isleen shrieked furiously. "I was only traveling with that peddler for protection. He had no right to sell me to you!"

"But he did, and now I will have my own, plus a goodly interest back from you. You will make me a fine profit before your looks go, you nasty-tempered bitch. Now you will do as I tell you, or I shall have you tied down and offered to whoever wants you. Do you know what that means, bitch? Plowboys and wanderers passing through will labor over your fair white body without ceasing until your sheath is so wide an army could march through it. Now, get on your back, bitch. The lord Merin ap Owen and his men are here for an evening’s entertainment."

"Never!" Isleen shouted at Clud.


He raised his hand to her once again, but a voice stopped him.

"Nay, Clud, do not beat her senseless. You will spoil our enjoyment. We like a woman with spirit. Leave us now, and we will have our pleasure of the wench." The speaker was a tall, dark-haired man with a scar that ran from the corner of his left eye down to his chin. It spoiled his otherwise flawless features.

He smiled, and Isleen shivered. This, she sensed, was a very wicked man. "I am a nobleman’s daughter," she said defiantly.

"How long do you want her?" the whoremonger asked.

Merin ap Owen handed Clud a heavy silver coin. "We will keep her for the whole night," he said, "and do not argue with me, for I will wager I have just given you double what you paid for her. You already have your profit, Clud."

"Do you mean to kill her then?" the whoremonger wondered aloud.

Merin ap Owen laughed heartily. "Only with our kindness, Clud. Only with our kindness. Now, get out, but send some wine in here."

"Yes, my lord! At once!" Clud said, and he limped out.

Merin ap Owen looked Isleen up and down in a leisurely fashion. "So you say you are a nobleman’s daughter, wench. On the wrong side of the blanket, of course. Some serf’s get, eh?"

"I am rightfully born," Isleen responded. "What serf’s bastard would have my fine features, or my beautiful golden hair?"

"Remove your chemise," Merin ap Owen said.

"No!"

His hand shot out swiftly, hooking into the neckline of the garment and rending it quickly to the hem.

"It is my only chemise," she shouted.

"If you did not wish it destroyed, you should have obeyed me," he said quietly. "You can repair it, provided you remove it now before my men and I rip it to pieces entirely."