left.
'He is the most hateful man!' Elf said angrily the moment he rode through the gate.
Ranulf took her in his arms comfortingly. 'The children will come, petite, and as you said, in God’s own time. We have not even been wed a full year yet.' He smoothed her hair. 'And we are certainly trying hard to fulfill God’s will of us, eh?'
She laughed weakly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. ' I never thought of children while I was in the convent. There was no point to such thoughts, but now I am a wife, and it is a wife’s duty to conceive and bear young. Our pleasure in each other is so great that I sometimes feel guilty there is no fruit of our efforts. What if I am like Isleen, barren stock?'
'You are nothing like your brother’s selfish wife, Eleanore,' he soothed her.
'Do you want a son, Ranulf?'
'Every man wants a son… and a daughter just like her sweet mother, petite,' he said honestly. 'But if God does not bless us, then I am content to spend the rest of my life with you alone.'
Elf burst into tears. 'Living with you is a thousand times better than living as a nun!' She sobbed, then turned and fled him.
What had he said to make her cry, he wondered, puzzled. He shrugged with his inability to solve the conundrum and took himself out into the fields to help with the threshing.
Their harvest had been good. The grain storehouses were filled to capacity. The entire manor picked the orchard clean of apples and pears to be put away for the winter. The serfs' huts were all repaired where needed, and fresh thatch put upon the roofs. Arthur and his master, the miller, were kept busy grinding flour for several weeks. The slaughtering was done, the meat salted for future use. Wood was chopped and piled high. Ranulf declared that twice a month, on a day to be named, his serfs could hunt for rabbits and fish in his streams. A deer hunt was planned, and everyone on the estate anticipated the merry feast it would provide Christmas tide.
In the manor court over which both the lord and lady presided each month, disputes were settled, fines levied, justice served. Ashlin prospered as it had never prospered before. There was even a stack of coins hidden in a sack behind a stone in the solar wall, for the Lammastide fair in Hereford had indeed proved profitable. The wool crop had been an excellent one.
Elf spent a good deal of time in her little herbarium making salves, lotions, ointments, and unguents for her infirmary. She dried flowers, bark, leaves, and roots that could later be brewed into healing teas, physics, and remedies for coughs and complaints of every nature. She harvested moss to dry and store for dressing wounds. Of late she had not felt particularly well herself. Everything the cook prepared seemed to disagree with her. She gained relief only by brewing up a mint tea, which she would sometimes sweeten with honey. She had six fine hives next to her herbarium, for honey was a wonderful healer when used in certain poultices and remedies.
Finally one rainy afternoon in October as Elf sat in the hall at her tapestry loom, Ida said sharply, 'And just when do you intend to tell the master, lady?'
Elf looked up, her needle poised in midair. 'Tell my lord what, old Ida?'
'Lady!' Ida was exasperated. 'You are with child!'
'You have had no show of blood for two cycles now, lady. Have you not realized that? Certainly you are with child. A June baby, if I am not mistaken.' The old woman cackled, delighted.
'Are you certain? This was not something that was spoken of at St. Frideswide's. The girls who were to wed were naturally instructed by their mothers before marriage. Ouch!' Elf popped a finger into her mouth, and sucked it for a moment. Innocence had its place in this world certainly, but hers was becoming a distinct and great disadvantage. How long would it have taken her to figure it out, she wondered, irritated. 'Is there any other reason for my moon link to be unbroken?'
'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,
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
