A King's Betrayal (25 page)

             
Would he return before her child was born?  Beth did not know for sure how long it would be.  Next time Mistress Grey visited her, she would ask her to explain.

Thirty Four

‘Cast out the evil amongst you,’ the priest’s voice exhorted his small congregation.  ‘Sin is vile and those who consort with the Devil are a canker that must be lanced.  God’s work must prevail and the evil ones shall be cast down into hell.  Go now and sin no more for God knows all – and I am the judge and jury, the executor of His will.  If I discover there is witchcraft here I shall destroy all those who practise its filthy rituals.’

             
Mistress Grey cast down her eyes, conscious that he seemed to look directly at her.  Had someone told him of her frequent trips to the woods?  Throughout the winter she had visited Beth at least once a week, taking her small gifts of meat, butter or cheese, all of which contributed to the meagre diet that the girl found for herself.  Fortunately for all the winter had not been as hard for the village as the previous year.  None of the villagers had lost their hens to foxes or their pigs to sickness.  There had been the usual assortment of minor ailments, for which some had asked Mistress Grey to bring them a cure when she visited Beth.  She had thought that most of the villagers were prepared to forget the past and the talk of a witch in their midst, but the priest’s ranting was stirring things up and perhaps someone had whispered in his ear.

             
She had planned to visit Beth either this day or the next, because the girl was now big with child and she thought her time was near.  Beth had not been able to tell her exactly when she had conceived but the birth must surely be soon.  It would be cruel to leave her to give birth alone in the woods, but after the sermon that morning Mistress Grey did not dare to visit her friend.  She thought by Beth’s reckoning there might be between a week or ten days before the child was due.  The priest sometimes went to the neighbouring village to assist with a christening or a burial and if she chose her moment he need not know that she had been to the woods at all.

* * *

Beth put a hand to her back as she bent to pick up the firewood she needed.  It had been raining overnight but this wood was dry, because she had gathered it into a lean-to at the back of her cottage.  She kept her small stores of worts here and the onions, turnips and carrots she’d grown herself from seed had helped to keep her stew pot going throughout the long months of winter.  The months of the year were never clear to her, but she did not need to know what day it was since they were governed by the seasons.  She knew that the ground was no longer as hard as it had been before Christ’s Mass.  Another year had come, which she believed was the year of Our Lord 1415.  Snow had covered the earth for many days after the feasting was over, but for the past several days the wind had seemed less bitter.

             
Spring had not yet come to the woods but it would not be long now.  She thought that her babe would be born soon, because her body had become so heavy that sometimes she found it difficult to move.  Beth had no spare fat on her back, arms or legs and that made the size of her belly seem huge.  When she bent down she felt that she might tipple over and was not sure that she could rise again if she fell.  Her ankles had swollen and felt painful and her back ached so much that she hardly knew how to bear it.  She was tempted to make something that would ease the pain, but was afraid that Marthe’s cures might harm her child.  Mistress Grey was always warning her to be careful, and it was due to her kindness that Beth had kept as well as she had.  Without the extra food her friend had brought her, she might have found it difficult to live because she could no longer climb trees to find eggs and the traps were more often empty than full these days.  When the weather grew warm again life would be better, but she hoped she might have her child by then.

             
Thinking about her friend, Beth realised that it was five days since she’d visited her and wondered what was wrong.  Mistress Grey had been most insistent that she would come as often as she could, which could only mean that she had some trouble.  Was she ill?  No, surely her son would come to tell Beth if that were the case.  He had sold things for Beth on more than one occasion, though not as yet her gold chain, and she had her nanny goat, a dozen hens and a pig that she was rearing and hoped to breed from in the spring.  The milk and cheese her goat provided had been all the food she’d had some days this winter.  Without them Beth thought that she might have starved and her babe with her.

             
It was a miracle that the child lived, but she knew it was thriving, because she’d felt it kicking strongly.

             
‘You are so brave, my little one,’ she whispered.  ‘You have shared my hardship, but I promise it will not be so for much longer.  We shall take the cart and go – unless the lord returns.  I shall not ask you to spend another winter here in these woods.  You should have so much more.’

             
Beth had accepted hardship for herself, but the thought of her child suffering as she had through long cold winters, when there was barely enough food to retain life was a source of grief to her.  Marthe had chosen to live here but surely there must be a better life somewhere?

             
Remembering that Sir William had promised to take care of her if she would go to him, Beth accepted that the price might be to become his whore.  If that was what she must pay for her child’s well being she would pay it but she would make sure she had his promise that he would send the priest away - and allow her to live in the cottage when he was done with her.

             
Feeling the pain rip through her, Beth cried out and caught at her stomach.  Mistress Grey had warned her there would be pain but she had not expected it to be so fierce.  She breathed deeply, panting and fighting the panic that swept through her.  Her friend had promised she would come but it seemed she had forgotten or perhaps she could not come. 

The pain was easing now.  Beth breathed more easily.  That was better, she could bear it now.  She knew what to do when the babe was born for Mistress Grey had told her.  If her friend did not come she must bear it alone.  A scream left her as she felt the

pain surge through her again and now she was truly afraid.  She had been told not to go to the village, but she needed help.  She would try to walk there because if she stayed here she was afraid that both she and her child might die.

Beth was not certain she could walk as far as the village, but she knew she had to try.  The pain had come again and this time it was overwhelming, sweeping through her in waves that took her breath and made her scream out.

‘Help me, Mother,’ she whispered as she began to walk in the direction of the village.  ‘Help me to bear the pain and do not let my poor babe die.’

Unconsciously, her hand went towards her breast where the small gold cross nestled.  It felt warm and she was comforted, as she thought of her mother, willing her mind to return to the days when she had been a child in the castle.  If only she could recall the name of the castle – her own name.  Her true home might be far away but she would take her child and walk there if she but knew where to go.

‘Curse you, Marthe,’ she cried clutching at her belly.  ‘You wronged me when you took me and brought me here.  If you had told me all you knew I might even now be with those who love me.’

Tears were trickling down her cheeks.  Each step she took was exhausting and the pain grew worse each time it struck.  Seeing a large oak trees with low hanging branches that would give her shelter, Beth decided she must rest.  She could go no further, her strength almost at its end.  She would sit for a little and then go on when she had recovered.

She sat down under the tree, bringing her knees up to try and ease herself.  Pain was ripping through her more often now and she felt the urge to push, and then a sharp stinging between her thighs as her waters broke.  Mistress Grey had told her it would happen shortly before the birth and she knew it was too late for her to reach the village and her friend.  She screamed as she felt a tearing pain worse than all the others, crying out, calling for her mother again and again.  A feeling of faintness had come over her and her senses swam, but she must not let this agony overcome her.  She was alone and only she could do what was necessary when her child was born.

             
‘Help me,’ she whispered as a wave of exhaustion overtook her and her head swam.  ‘Mother, please help me.’

             
‘I am here, child,’ a soft voice said close by.  Beth struggled to come back from the brink, trying to see who spoke, but everything was hazy.  She was aware of a woman, a woman with sure gentle hands and a sweet voice that soothed her.  ‘My name is Isolde and I am one of the Sisters of Mercy.  Just relax your mind and let me help you.  The babe is coming soon and all will be well if you trust in me.’

             
‘Thank you,’ Beth murmured and closed her eyes.

             
The pain was still there but now it was easier to bear.  She was not alone and the hands that bathed her brow were kind, easing her terror.  The woman coaxed her, telling her when to push and praising her for her efforts.  Beth had never known such kind words and the tears trickled down her cheeks.  She held Isolde’s hand as the pain coursed through her, taking courage from her strength.  Then she felt an urge to push hard and a slithering sensation as something slid out of her; there was a sticky dampness trickling down her thighs.  Raising herself on her elbows, she looked down and saw the child’s head between her thighs, watching in wonder as the woman brought the babe out of her.

             
‘My babe…’ she whispered, tasting the salt of tears on her lips.  ‘Is my child well?’

             
‘You have a daughter.’

             
Isolde had tied and cut the cord.  She held the babe, who looked slightly blue in the face, giving her a sharp tap on her backside.  A startled wailing cry made Beth laugh and suddenly the weariness had gone as she reached out.

             
‘Let me hold her, please.  I thought she would die…’

             
She was smiling through her tears as Isolde placed the babe in her arms. 

             
‘She thrives.  What shall you call her?’

             
‘Katharine.  I shall call her Katharine.’

             
‘Let me take her.  I shall wrap her in a shawl and then attend to you.  You must be cleansed of the afterbirth, child.’

             
‘Why do you call me a child?’

             
‘Forgive me, I think you are very young, but clearly you are a woman for you have your own babe.’

             
‘I have never known how old I am,’ Beth told her and sank back wearily as the woman cared for her and the babe.  ‘I must thank you for my life, Isolde – and that of my child.  Did you say you were one of the Sisters Of Mercy?’

             
Isolde knelt beside her, offering her a cup.  ‘Drink this and you will feel better.  You may sleep without fear.  I shall be with you until you wake, to guard you and the babe.’

             
‘Thank you.  My name is Beth.’

             
Her eyelids were heavy.  She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into a deep dark place.  Isolde had saved her life.  She could trust her and she must sleep.

* * *

When Beth awoke it was dark.  She jerked up, suddenly afraid.  Had she dreamed everything?  Where was Isolde - and what had happened to her child?

             
‘Katharine…’ she cried and sat up, looking about her.  Then she saw that a fire was burning and a small cooking pot had been strung between two trivets.  She could smell something delicious and became aware of hunger as her belly rumbled.  ‘Isolde?’

             
‘I am here,’ the soft voice said.  ‘Did you think that I would desert you while you slept?  It was my destiny to be here when you needed me.  I have always known that one day I should serve and it was more than chance that brought me here this day.’

             
‘Who are you?’

             
‘I told you, my name is Isolde.  When I was a young child I was told that I would serve God and one day help to bring an important child into the world.  I think this day I have done part of what will be asked of me.  I have brought the special child into this world.’

             
‘I do not understand you.’

             
Isolde smiled.  ‘I had a sign.  A voice told me that I must come here and that I would find a woman in sore distress.  I was told that the child she bore would be special and that by helping her I would serve, as I have always wished to serve.  I can tell you nothing more for it is all I know.’

             
Isolde bent down to the cradle she had constructed of fallen branches, lifting the child she had wrapped in a soft wool shawl and bringing her to Beth.

             
‘Here is your daughter, Beth.  She will be hungry too.  Place her to your breast and feed her while I get your supper.’