She made her way towards it, with each step sensing its presence with more clarity. With a gust of her Air magic, she linked to its mind and its name came to her.
“Leusith,” she whispered.
I’ve found you, breathed a silky, feminine voice in her mind. I’ve found you – she of Fire and Air. You have named me. Can you hear me now?
She gave the barest nod.
She needs help. Flames flickered and flared. The baby comes early. Her strength fades. You must get help.
She nodded again, knowing that she needed to get to Jean. She scanned the room for the other Morays. Rorie was dancing with Mairi, Cailean, rather reluctantly it seemed, with Ishbel Urquhart and Elspet and Dermid were singing with Donnan. She couldn’t tell them without risking people overhearing and being suspicious of how she got this information. If it came to it, could she deliver a baby on her own? Panic pulsed through her – she’d never even been at a birthing before.
Then she wondered, if she could hear Leusith’s thoughts, perhaps she could send thoughts back to her. She closed her eyes and let the sounds around her recede as if she was floating far away from them. Feeling a stillness settling in her mind, she focussed on her message.
Leusith, find Nannie Hattock in the monastery. Tell her too, if you can without being seen. I’ll fetch her to help me. The sooner she’s ready, the better.
I will look for her. And with that, the fire sank lower, sizzling fat dripping from the roasting pig above it.
Just outside the tavern, she paused. A hand fell upon her shoulder.
“Is something wrong?”
Donnan looked worried.
“I just need some fresh air,” she said.
“I’ll come with you,” he said.
As they walked down the high street, the low sun cast a rich glow around them, slicing through the break in the dark clouds, making Donnan’s brown hair glint like gold. Soon it would be dusk, in between light and dark. Kaetha shuddered with the fear that, for Jean and the baby, they might be in a place so close between life and death.
“Donnan, I can’t explain how I know but Jean Moray is having her baby right now and needs help. I couldn’t tell the other Morays then as people would wonder how I came to know of it.”
“And how did you?”
“Never mind that. Will you do something for me?”
He looked at her questioningly. “Of course.”
“Go to the monastery and get Nannie. Bring her to the Morays’ house. I’ll go straight there.”
He nodded. “Watch your back,” he said, scanning the street.
“I will.” She hurried towards Fisherman’s Row. Luckily, it seemed that Murdo and his henchmen had other places to be this evening.
Reaching the house, she heard a groan of pain.
“Poor Jean,” she said. Then she wished she hadn’t said her name. A snatch of Jean’s thoughts hurled themselves at her like a rock. No – Not when I’m alone – Please. She gripped the doorframe, Jean’s panic feeding her own.
Jean was hunched over the table, eyes tight shut, arms tensed, fingers pressing into the wood as if she was trying to cut through it with her nails. Exhaling slowly, her straining ebbed like a receding wave.
“I’m here to help you, Jean,” she said, shocked at the fear she saw in the woman’s face. Flames leapt in the hearth before her and Kaetha knew that Leusith was with them.
“Little one’s coming too soon.”
“Nannie’s on her way. Don’t worry. We’ll look after both of you,” she said, trying to sound confident.
Jean paced the room, waiting for the next contraction to take its grip. Kaetha set a pan of water over the fire, gathered blankets and cloths and rummaged through Cailean’s box of herbs. Fortunately, some of the pain relievers remained from his treatment of Finola after she’d been flogged. She ground together opean with panseng root and lavender to ease pain, strengthen and calm.
“Whisky,” said Jean, pointing to a cupboard.
Kaetha found the whisky jug and poured a generous dram, stirring in the crushed herbs. Jean downed it in one.
There was rosemary amongst Cailean’s herbs. Nannie had taught her that rosemary bound the past with the future, symbolising the connection between generations. It was good luck in a birthing room. She bound some sprigs with string, making it into a necklace which she placed over Jean’s head. Jean barely noticed as mounting pain seized her again and she cried through clenched teeth.
Kaetha had one hand on her shoulder, the other stroking her back as she muttered words of encouragement, wishing she knew what else to do. The door creaked open and she sighed with relief as Nannie strode in with an air of control, telling Donnan to wait outside and stop anyone from coming in.
As the wave torture subsided, Jean let Kaetha help her to the floor. Then each part of Jean’s body tensed again, bracing against floods of pain which broke upon her one after the other with little respite now.
“Not much longer,” said Nannie, “you’re doing fine, Jean. Kaetha, you’re my eyes and hands, I’ll tell you what to do.”
Darkness had thoroughly set in by the time the baby was introduced to the world. The room was lit by expensive beeswax candles which Nannie assured them the monks wouldn’t miss. The hearth fire blazed heartily. The room sang with an ethereal glow, as though Leusith wished to caress the baby with her light. The soft gold shone through the room, catching on each fine hair on the baby’s head, on
