The sky was darkening still further with angry clouds and heavy drops began to fall, a piercing cold hitting the riders. Mary called out constantly now, dread seeping into every fiber of her body. The temperature had dropped dramatically and now the rain coming down would hinder their progress. Her son had a coat on, but had not worn shoes. Like Mary, he hated the hard leather things and preferred to go barefoot. Mary was sobbing openly now, desperate to find her son in the coming evening. She knew that Bethy didn’t have the strength to carry her son for very long, he was a heavy little boy, indicating he would take his father’s large stature when he reached manhood. Bethy had wasted away to skeletal nothingness, how could she possibly carry her son this far?
Theo gave a shout, up ahead about midstream, was a body, half submerged in the icy waters of the river. Mary gave a horrified cry, trying to jump from the galloping horse. Henry had to hold her, hanging from the horse, to keep her from breaking her neck. They pulled up near the banks of the river. Though not wide, it was substantially deep. Henry jumped off the horse and went into the frigid water. The water surged up to Henry’s waist as he waded into the freezing water, pushing his way deeper, the water moving around him, from his thighs, then torso.
He reached the body, pulling its stiff form from the water’s grasp. It was Bethy, her face frozen in fear and pain. She was long dead, the color and blood leached from her face and hands. Looking around him, Henry could see nothing else in the dark water. He carried the half-frozen corpse back to the bank, throwing her to the ground. His face a mask of sorrow, rage and trepidation.
He and Theo waded back out into the stream, the icy water biting viciously at their flesh. Shudders racked both men as they plunged below the water, trying to find Victor’s small body. They found nothing, Mary almost hysterical on the bank, calling for her lost son. Mary’s voice was harsh and raspy from exertion and shock. Her baby could not be dead, he just couldn’t. Mary refused to even acknowledge the possibility.
Shaking her head in denial, she refused their sorrowful glances, as both men waded stiffly back to the bank. “Noooooooooo!” Mary shrieked, as her legs gave way, bringing her abruptly to the wet, rain-soaked ground. Her screams spiraled to the heavens, denial ricocheting of the unyielding forest. Henry tried to pick his wife up, but Mary fought him like a woman possessed. She bit and scratched, her howls raising the hairs on Henry’s arms and neck. The hound was howling along with Mary as though to share her grief.
Mary was mad with anguish; she could not endure the truth that her child was gone. Henry feared that his wife would lose the child she carried should she not calm down. As delicately as he could, Henry hit her across the jaw, knocking his frenzied wife unconscious. He had never struck her before and it nearly undid him to do so now. His heart was breaking with the loss of his child, his heart, his joy. His baby boy.
Shivering with cold, his body wet to the bone, Henry went to remounted his horse, Theo helping to hoist up the unconscious Mary. Her pregnant bulk was awkward to handle. Theo prepared to mount when the wind shifted and he cocked his head listening. Dark Henry saw the other man’s stillness and turned his head to listen as well. The rain made it difficult to hear anything. It was so faint, like a whisper in a windstorm, but they heard it again. Theo jumped on his horse and plunged into the river, forcing the reluctant horse across.
Pausing at the other side, Theo cocked his head once more and listened. Moments passed and he kicked his horse into the forest. Dark Henry sat his horse, his wife’s limp body warm against the growing cold. He shivered, his teeth chattering, almost uncontrollably. His eyes darted back and forth, losing sight of Theo. A lifetime had passed when Theo emerged from the forest. Before him was a bundle of shivering humanity, it was Victor. Henry waited impatiently across the stream, his eyes burning with tears. Theo forded the river once more, his strong arm wrapped securely about the boy, the reins wound tightly around his fist.
Reaching the bank, he pulled up beside Dark Henry. Reaching over, Henry pulled Victor to him, the small shivering boy was almost blue. He opened up Mary’s coat, and placed the boy within. Her body heat would keep him alive, until they could get them both home and warm them up. Without delay, Henry and Theo turned their horses’ home, picking up speed where they could. The hound following behind. Bethy was left at the riverbank, now forgotten.
It was dark when they returned home, many of the inhabitants waiting up at the main house, lights shinning brightly from within. Tall Tom met them at the porch, pulling Mary and Victor from Henry’s numb hands. Henry dismounted and took Mary back into his arms; she was conscious and shivering. Tall Tom kept Victor and turned and ran into the house. Tall Tom went upstairs, taking the treads two at a time. In Patina’s room was a slipper tub, filled with warm water. Liza had instructed Cookie to bring buckets of hot water to the room, once they found the child, she was sure Victor would be half frozen with cold. Coming into the room, Liza took the unconscious boy from Tom and placed him into the
