Claire Delacroix (36 page)

Niall swore, then helped Majella to the rough pallet he had recently abandoned. He shoved a hand through his hair and scanned the cell, as though looking for aid unexpectedly hidden amongst them.

“But Majella, you cannot bear a child here,” he insisted. “There is no midwife, I know not what to do.”

Majella heaved a sigh and winced as she settled on the pallet. “’Tis a boy, no doubt,” she said philosophically. “They are most unlikely to heed convenience or the will of others.” She grimaced and caught her breath, exhaling mightily when the contraction passed. “And he is hurried. ’Tis a boy, to be sure.”

“You cannot do this!”

Majella cast her brother a wry glance that made Viviane smile. “I have done this afore, Niall. Trust my certainty that ’twill happen with or without your blessing.”

“But Majella, something could go awry! You could die in such unfitting circumstance. The babe could die in the chill of this place.” Niall appealed to Viviane with a desperate glance but she had to shrug.

“I have never witnessed the birthing of a child,” she confessed, not liking the pallor of his skin. Majella’s other children gathered around Niall, and several took his big hand in theirs, though Viviane couldn’t guess whether they were turning to him for support or offering their own.

“Well, it’s a good job I’ve done my research,” Monty declared, pushing past Niall as he rolled up his sleeves.

“You?” Niall demanded.

“You?” Majella echoed.

Viviane blinked in shock and refrained from comment.

“Yeah, me.” Monty surveyed them all, obviously insulted by this commentary on his competence. “Nobody here has like delivered a child before, right?” Niall and Viviane nodded reluctantly. “And I spent two months with a midwife on the island, traveling around to do pre-natal and post-natal check-ups. We delivered four babies in that time.” He held up his fingers. “Count ‘em.
Four
.”

“You aided a midwife?” Niall demanded, his incredulity more than clear.

“Hey, it’s not off the deep end or anything. Just research. Character research. I had a midwife in a book and wanted to know what she would know, what she’d do, you know?” He shrugged and glanced at Majella. “You don’t have a lot of options here, babe. Looks like I’m it.”

Majella grimaced and caught her breath, puffing when the contraction passed.

Then she smiled for Monty. “With your count and mine, and this child on the way, we make an even dozen, Master Monty. I welcome your aid - though trust you will not take offense that I heartily pray for an uncomplicated arrival.”

Monty winked at Majella. “No offense taken.” He dropped his voice. “In fact, I’m with you. No breech stuff, if you can negotiate it.” He cast a telling glance around the cell, his gaze lingering on a persistent drip that created a dark puddle in the far corner. “In this joint, we could use all the help we can get.”

“Zounds,” Niall muttered. He strode to the door and roared anew. “We have need of a midwife here!”

There was a lot of scuttling and heavy footfalls in the corridor, some muted argument and a running audibly dispatched to the archbishop. Meanwhile, Majella’s labor progressed, the child clearly disinterested in what trouble was taken for its arrival. And in the end, no midwife was summoned.

The archbishop forbade it.

This news was received poorly by Majella, no doubt because she had expected better from her lover. “Wretched bastard!” she hissed through her teeth, straining through another contraction. Her brow was damp, her face flushed despite Monty’s cheerful coaching.

’Twas bad timing to understand precisely how little the man cared for her, Viviane guessed.

“Don’t push yet, babe, you’ll just hurt yourself. Breathe, breathe, breathe.” Monty puffed, Majella glared and echoed his manner, working in an insult for the archbishop when she could.

Viviane gathered the children in the opposite corner and told them tales, hoping to distract them from their mother’s labor. She believed it was the most useful deed she could do, since Monty truly did seem to know what he was doing. Niall paced, his unnatural pallor growing with every passing hour, his limp becoming more and more pronounced as the evening progressed.

Monty was surprisingly calm, murmuring to Majella and even making her laugh at intervals. One at a time, the children fell into restless slumbers and Viviane tucked each in with whatever cloaks she could retrieve.

’Twas late when Matthew’s grip finally loosened on Viviane’s hand and she was nearly out of tales as his eyes closed. She brushed the hair back from his brow and nestled him in beside his brothers. She glanced up in time to find Niall’s considering glance upon her. Viviane murmured his name and got to her feet, but Niall abruptly turned to watch his sister.

The single candle had burned low, almost gutting itself in the residue of wax. There was not much wick left so Viviane knew it was late. She could hear the silence of the night filling the keep, that curious stillness that is broken only by the scampering of mice. The cell echoed with Majella’s strained breathing, Monty’s encouragement was so low as to be incomprehensible.

Niall was watching the candle and as the flame flickered and dipped dangerously low, he dropped to one knee beside his sister.

“’Tis time, Majella,” he urged. “You must bring this child forth with haste.”

“First, you want to stop it,” she huffed, “and now you would rush it forth.” She flicked a glance to Viviane. “Is that not like a man? To want all the world to bend to his desire?”

A contraction seized her and she arched her neck back before Viviane could smile or agree. Majella’s teeth gritted in agony. Niall took her hand, and began to mutter a prayer beneath his breath. Viviane came to his side and joined his entreaties, feeling helpless as she witnessed Majella’s state.

“I see the head!” Monty cried and Majella visibly summoned her resolve. He shook a finger at her. “Give me a minute here.” Viviane did not know what he did but an instant later, he looked up. Majella was watching him avidly, her eyes glittering. “Next time,
push
! Push as hard as you can!”

Majella had only the time to nod agreement before she cried out again in pain. She gripped Niall’s hand so tightly that Viviane saw her nails cut into his skin. Majella’s toes curled, her back arched and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

“Come on, babe, come on!” Monty urged. “You can do it.”

Viviane gasped as the baby’s head appeared between Majella’s thighs. She heard the children stirring behind her but couldn’t look away from this marvel. Monty turned the child with gentle fingers and coaxed it out into the world. Majella screamed fit to bring down the walls, the children awakened and clung to each other.

And the babe suddenly slipped free of its mother. Its expression was anguished, its skin was an angry red, it was the most beautiful thing Viviane had ever seen.

And it
was
a boy.

Monty cooed to the child, stroking the mucus away from his nose, then cast a grin at Majella as he scooped the baby into his own purple polar fleece. “You were right, Majella babe. It’s a boy and he’s looks just perfect.”

“Oh!” Majella clasped her child gratefully to her breast and fell back against the pallet, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks. “He lives!”

“Hey, I’m not like some amateur, you know.” Monty fastened the teeth of his chemise so it wrapped around the child.

Niall leaned forward and kissed Majella’s brow. “Truly you weep whether the news is good or bad,” he teased, a tear making its way down his own cheek.

Majella opened her eyes and smiled at him, the affection between them unmistakable. “A child does not care where he enters the world, Niall. Indeed, the son of God himself came in far worse circumstance than this. We are warm, we are fed after a fashion, and we are together.” She sighed, the strain leaving her features. “’Tis enough.”

“Aye, Majella,” he whispered. “I was worried more for mother than child.”

And Viviane blinked back her tears.

“You fret overmuch, brother of mine,” Majella teased.

Niall kissed his sister’s knuckles and might have straightened, but she seized his hand.

“His name is Niall,” she insisted quietly, her tears gleaming on her cheeks as she squeezed Niall’s fingers. “In honor of your return to us.”

At that, Niall turned abruptly away. He paced to the door again, hung his head for a moment, then took a deep breath. “’Tis precious little my return has brought this child, Majella.” His voice was soft. “Indeed, you all are compromised by my deeds.”

“Hey, like don’t get all serious in such a happy moment,” Monty insisted. His cocky grin was back in place and he was flushed with his success. “Everything will come out right in the end. Darkest before the dawn and all that.” He grinned at Majella. “Cavalry, right? You’ve got those do-good kind of guys here, don’t you? Robin Hood? The Masked Avenger?”

Majella laughed. “Monty, you speak in the most odd way at times. Indeed, I cannot fathom your meaning.”

“Well, hey, this medieval re-enactment stuff is seriously freaky. I have no idea how it works, but this jazz puts movie theaters to shame. No wonder you guys get so hooked on it.” He looked pertly between Niall and Viviane. “So, like what happens next? Who’s got the script?”

“Monty, this is no jest,” Niall said solemnly. “We are all sentenced to die.”

“Yeah, yeah, but everything’s going to be okay, right?” Monty demanded. He gestured to Niall. “Like you have
friends
, right?
Three Musketeers
stuff? All for one and one for all, take that you dastardly villain. This is
some
kind of game. Advanced 3-D Dungeons and Dragons, right? We’re not all like gonna die, are we?”

Niall studied each of them in turn, his gaze lingering on Viviane. He looked oddly grey, very tired and less than happy.

“Nay,” he said softly. “We are not going to die.”

Viviane heard the conviction in his tone, and knew with sudden clarity that he was prepared to risk his own hide for the sake of theirs. It was so characteristic of the kind of man she knew him to be that she couldn’t believe she hadn’t guessed it sooner. Viviane stepped forward just as Niall bent and snuffed the candle with one smooth move.

The cell was filled with a blackness so complete that Viviane could not even see her hand before her face. She heard Majella gasp but knew she had to reach Niall’s side.

“Guard!” he cried. “We are without a light and a new babe is arrived. For the love of God, grant us a light at least!”

The baby, as though sensing his cue, began to wail.

And then, just as Viviane feared, things happened very fast.

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

Niall moved quickly to the door despite the darkness, having memorized both the distance and all within his path in the last moment before snuffing the light. He caught his breath at the sound of footsteps, flattened himself against the wall and prepared to strike.

The door flew open, a sentry cursed as a thin ray of light fell into the chamber. Niall ascertained that the man was alone, then locked his fists together and clubbed the guard over the head.

“Niall!” Majella cried, but Niall was not interested in reassuring his sister in this moment.

The guard fell soundlessly. Niall hauled him out of the way and eased the door shut behind him. He divested the guard of his keys, his boots, his helm and his tabard, donning them all in a hurry. He bound and gagged the guard deftly, using the man’s own hose to render him helpless.

“Matthew?” he muttered.

“Aye?” The boy’s voice wavered in the darkness.

“Hit him again if he so much as stirs. I entrust you with this task.”

“Aye, Uncle,” the boy agreed, his assent launching a tirade of questions from the others.

“But Niall, what are you doing?” Majella cried.

“Where are you like going? What’s happening now?”

“Be
silent
!” Niall chided, then hauled open the door. He heard a flurry of movement, and someone brushed against him. He assumed ’twas Matthew and hissed a warning to the others. “Stay here and feign sleep. I will not be long.” Niall fitted the key the guard had held into the lock once more, then checked the corridor between himself and the exit.

No one but Odo in his chamber. Perfect.

He would fret about the guards in the keep above once he encountered them.

Niall took a deep breath and stepped out into the corridor, feigning nonchalance as he reached back to pull the door closed behind himself. He paused. In truth, he was peering down the hall, growing accustomed to the way this helm restricted his vision. Reassured, he pulled the door shut with a clang and turned the key.

“And be quiet, you miserable lot!” he roared in the very same moment that he saw that he had been followed.

Too late Niall realized that that soft brush of cloth had not been Matthew.

It had been Viviane.

A remarkably determined Viviane. She stood with her arms folded across her chest, undaunted by the glare Niall fixed upon her. Now that he had slammed the door so decisively, he could hardly open it again without drawing the attention of other guards and prisoners.

“You will not escape talking with me,” she declared in a heated undertone.

Niall cast a desperate glance down the corridor, finding that mercifully they were yet unobserved. “Viviane, this is neither the time nor the place...”

She poked him hard in the chest and her eyes flashed. “Then I will follow you until it
is
the time and the place, until we have talked about what has happened here and until I know exactly what you’re thinking! Niall of Malloy, if you think for one moment...”

Footsteps sounded in the cross corridor and Niall clapped one hand over Viviane’s mouth. She gasped as he hauled her back into the shadows. He stood facing the corner, Viviane sheltered before him, her pulse fluttering beneath his hand. He glared at her, hoping she could see enough of his eyes to believe the seriousness of their situation.

“Be still!” he muttered, daring no more than that. Niall prayed first that Viviane could not be seen, and second that she did not choose this moment to challenge him.