‘Llangarlia,” said Brutus. “It is close, is it not?”
Corineus nodded, hugging his shoulder with his arms in an effort to keep warm. He looked to the northwest. “There, a day’s sail if the weather is good, an eternity at the bottom of the cold gray witch sea if she turns against you. If it were noon, and the weather clear and still, you might even be able to see those white cliffs.”
Brutus looked at Membricus, tightening excitement in his belly. “Tomorrow then, perhaps.”
‘Aye,” said Membricus, his teeth gleaming in the gloom, and the wind whipping his gray curls about his face, “but tonight we must collect your son.”
‘Cornelia.” Brutus glanced at the cabin. It was heavy with silence. “Corineus, can we maneuver this ship close to shore?”
‘Aye, I think so. See? There are shallow waters protected by that headland. We can row in to a point not twenty paces from the shore, and then wade our way in.”
‘Do it, and signal four other ships to accompany us, and the rest to weigh anchor in the shelter of the bay. Hicetaon, arm our warriors. We will be ashore soon.”
CORNELIA STARTED, AND TOOK A STEP BACK AS BRUTUS entered the cabin. She looked far worse than she had earlier, her hair now completely matted to her head and neck, her rib cage rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths, her skin sallow and slick with sweat, her great belly protruding before her, red welts running across it as if Cornelia had clawed at herself in her extremity.
Her eyes were terrified and hopeless, staring at him from sunken flesh bruised with deep blue shadows.
Her limbs trembled, and she let out a moan as Brutus walked slowly over to her.
All her defiance had fled hours ago.
He stood before her, staring, then looked at Aethylla. “Well?”
‘It will not be long,” Aethylla said, her voice sounding almost as exhausted as Cornelia looked.
“Whatever happens, it will not be long now.”
Brutus took a deep breath, and Aethylla looked at him sharply, wondering why it had trembled in his throat.
‘Cover her with a cloak,” he said, “and yourselves as well, and bring her outside.”
‘I cannot walk!” Cornelia said, her voice thin and desperate.
‘You have legs, and you have life,” he said. “Use them both while you still can.”
‘I don’t want Aethylla with me,” Cornelia gasped. “Please.” Brutus paused on his way to the door.
“You want me to risk Blangan’s life in your foolish misadventure? No! Aethylla and one of the other midwives will accompany you. I will not risk Siangan to your stupidity.” Then he walked out.
Aethylla narrowed her eyes at Brutus’ back, resentful that Brutus was willing to risk her where he was not willing to risk Siangan, then looked consideringly at Cornelia. After this dreadful day spent trying to make Cornelia cooperate, Aethylla felt that if Brutus decided to take the child by force, she would hand him the knife herself.
‘No…” Cornelia moaned, but Aethylla had finally had enough, and she threw a cloak over Cornelia’s shoulders with rough hands and together with one of the other women, propelled her out of the cabin.
If Cornelia wanted to give birth on dry land, then that is what Cornelia would do.
‘You will be well, Cornelia!” Blangan called after them, tears in her eyes. Poor Cornelia. Brutalized at both the conception of the child and at its birth by a husband who had no idea of the jewel he had acquired. “Mag be with you, Cornelia,” she whispered.
THERE WERE SOME THIRTY OR THIRTY-FIVE ARMED MEN cloaked and wrapped against the cold, standing at the side of the ship. Brutus stepped up as Aethylla and the other woman pushed Cornelia forward; the girl G kept trying to fall to her knees, but Aethylla and her companion were strong, and their hands gripped tight under Cornelia’s armpits, keeping her more or less upright.
It was full night now, and Brutus’ body loomed large and threatening in the dark.
‘Give her to me,” he said, taking Cornelia in his rough hands. Then, nodding at the other men, he stepped over the side of the ship and dropped into the shallow water.
Even though Aethylla knew she, too, shortly would be up to her thighs in the freezing water herself, she could not help but smile at the sound of Cornelia’s shocked cry.
Hicetaon stepped forward to help her, and Aethylla climbed down a rope ladder set against the hull, dropping the final few feet into the water.
Gods, but it was cold!
Aethylla gritted her teeth, hugged the dry portions of her cloak closer about her, and looked ahead.
Brutus, half carrying, half dragging Cornelia, was little more than a black hulk against the slightly less
black night sky.
There were splashes about her as the other midwife and the warriors jumped into the water. Thirty paces distant, additional warriors dropped from several other ships, and Aethylla clenched her jaw, and set about wading toward the dim shoreline.
It was a long, hard, and viciously cold wade, and by the time Aethylla reached the shore, she hated Cornelia like she had never hated anyone before.
THEY HUDDLED TOGETHERTWENTY PACES IN FROM THE waterline under the shelter of a group of wind-blasted and barely leaved trees.
Brutus spoke quickly, ordering the majority of the warriors, perhaps numbering one hundred and fifty, to fan out about them.
He still held tight to Cornelia, who was moaning incessantly now, her hands clenching, then releasing where they gripped Brutus’ cloak. She sagged against Brutus, her almost dead weight threatening to drag him down as well.
‘We must hurry,” Aethylla said to Brutus, “if you do not want your child born on this beach.”
Brutus began to order several of the remaining warriors to search for shelter, but Membricus, shivering so badly that Aethylla thought he looked as if he were in labor himself, interrupted him.
‘It is that way,” he said, pointing to a small rise some forty or fifty paces away. “On the sheltered side of the hill.”
His eyes were cold, and so gray they shone almost silver in the faint light.
Brutus nodded, and walked forward, dragging the now-sobbing Cornelia at his side.
Membricus stepped forward, and grabbed Cornelia’s free arm, taking some of her weight from Brutus.
The two men exchanged glances over her twisting, weeping body, and Membricus smiled, bright and eager.
For the first time, Aethylla felt a twist of unease. Beside her, Corineus murmured in concern.
The soil was sandy, soft, and hard on calves. Aethylla found herself panting within paces of starting up the slope of the hill, the sodden portions of her cloak and robe twisting about her legs so that, on several occasions, she fell over.
Every time she fell Corineus stepped forward, aiding her to rise.
At the top of the hill Aethylla looked down, and almost sobbed with relief. There was a small hut not thirty paces away; little more than a lean-to, it had wicker walls, branches and the tattered remnants of matting as a roof, and a bleak gap to serve as a door.
Humble as it was, the hut would keep most of the wind out, and it looked reasonably dry, and for that Aethylla thought she would offer sacrifice to the gods as soon as she was able.
Brutus and Membricus were already dragging Cornelia toward the hut, and Aethylla, calling out to the other woman who’d been lagging behind, hurried after them.
THERE WAS LITTLE IN THE HUT SAVE A COLD HEARTH IN the center of the packed dirt floor, and a raised bed of turf and rushes against the far wall. Brutus and Membricus hoisted Cornelia onto the bed, where she instantly rolled her back to them, and drew her knees up to her belly in agony.
‘There is a lamp,” said Membricus, “I will light it.”
Brutus motioned Aethylla and the other woman inside—they hastened immediately to where Cornelia lay curled about her belly on the bed—then walked to the door.
He hesitated just before he stepped outside. “You will stay, and bear witness?” he said to Membricus.
Membricus’ teeth gleamed in the first sputtering light of the lamp. “Oh, aye.”
‘There will be fighting. You know that.”
Membricus nodded, then glanced at Cornelia. “It will not be long before they attack. Keep safe, Brutus.”
Brutus nodded, looked one more time at Cornelia, then vanished into the night, his sword in his hand.
* * * AETHYLLA HAD NOT LIKED THE SOUND OF THAT CON versation at all. She looked at the other woman, who returned her look with wide-eyed fear, then turned back to Cornelia. By rights Cornelia should be squatting to deliver her child, but Aethylla held no hopes of being able to get Cornelia off this bed.
Well, if she wanted to give birth lying down, then she would just have to endure the additional suffering in the doing.