‘Perhaps we shouldn’t,’ said Eriatha, ‘but I am ashamed to say I am glad she is there and I am not.’
Meria nodded agreement. She felt as if a burden had been lifted from her. Weariness flowed over her and she sank into a chair. ‘It was good of you to come,’ she told the earth maiden.
‘I wish I could have been of some help,’ answered Eriatha, dropping into the second chair. Meria gazed across at her. The earth maiden was small and slight, and looked much younger than her years. Her face was pretty, her skin flawless.
‘You are very beautiful,’ said Meria. ‘Are you happy?’
‘Why would I not be?’ countered Eriatha, defensively. ‘I can afford to eat and I have a home. Or is an earth maiden not meant to experience joy?’
‘That is not what I meant at all,’ said Meria. ‘I was wondering if you had friends, or whether your life was lonely. That is all.’
Eriatha relaxed and gave a shy smile. ‘Yes, I am lonely. And no, I have no friends. Is that not the lot of the earth maiden? A hundred lovers and no friends?’
Meria leaned forward and stretched out her hand. ‘You may count me as a friend, Eriatha.’ The younger woman took her hand briefly, gently squeezing her fingers.
‘I thank you, Meria, but I do not need pity. I am young, alive and in good health. I was glad to see Ruathain recover so well from his wounds.’
‘You know my husband?’ Meria could not keep a note of alarm from her voice. Eriatha laughed and clapped her hands together.
‘You see why an earth maiden has no women friends,’ she said. Meria blushed, then laughed also.
‘Yes, I do. So now tell me, did Ruathain come to you, while we were parted?’
Eriatha fell silent, watching Meria closely. Then she shrugged. ‘Yes he did.’
‘And after making love did he snore like a bull?’
Surprised by the comment, Eriatha giggled. ‘The very walls shook with the sound.’
‘There,’ said Meria. ‘Now can we be friends?’
‘I think that we can. You are a very special woman, Meria. Ruathain is lucky to have you.’
Before Meria could reply they heard the high-pitched cry of a newborn babe. Both women rushed to the bedroom. Meria pushed open the door. Vorna was lying asleep, the babe, wrapped in soft red cloth, nestled in her arm. The old woman had gone.
Eriatha made the sign of the Protective Horn. Meria moved to the window and gazed out over the hills. But the midwife was nowhere in sight.
‘Who was she?’ she whispered.
Eriatha did not reply. At the bedside she felt for the pulse in Vorna’s wrist. It was beating slowly but powerfully. Eriatha pulled back the bedclothes. There was no blood upon the sheets, nor any mark upon Vorna’s belly. Carefully she covered the sleeping woman.
‘She was Seidh,’ said Eriatha, her voice low. ‘The babe was delivered through magic.’
Meria shivered, then lifted the sleeping babe, gently opening the little red blanket. The child was a boy, and perfectly formed. Again there was no blood upon it. The umbilical cord had been removed leaving no wound, only a tiny mound of perfectly formed pink skin. The babe woke and gave a little squeal. Meria wrapped it once more and lifted it, holding it close.
Vorna woke and yawned. She saw Meria holding the babe and smiled. ‘How did you save both me and the babe?’ she asked.
‘It was a miracle,’ said Eriatha.
Meria passed the babe to its mother. Vorna opened her nightgown and held the child to her swollen breast. It began to feed hungrily.
Ferol looked what he was – an angry, bitter man, self-centred and self-obsessed; the kind of man who believed the sole purpose of winter was to keep him cold. He loathed the rich for their wealth, the poor for their poverty. His round face had a permanently sullen expression, and his wide gash of a mouth was perfectly fashioned to make best use of the sneer. He was a thief – and worse, but he excused his excesses by convincing himself that all men would be the same, if only they had his strength of purpose.