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Tavia squeezed her husband’s arm seeing the exchange between him and Greta and whispered, “I will do all I can to help him.”
Bhric could not explain why his wife’s remark held promise, but it did, and he was grateful to hear it.
He kissed her quick again and she had barely enough time to remind in a whisper, “Come home to me, husband.” Once he was gone, Tavia turned to Greta. “How may I help?”
It was an hour later when Elug was settled in a bed to rest, his arm stitched and one wound on his chest stitched as well, the other wounds needing none. Tavia had no idea if the man would survive, but then he had survived the ride back to the keep while badly injured. If anything, he was tenacious.
Tavia told herself to go straight to the keep as her husband had ordered. A light snow had started to fall, and she could use a hot brew and food, her stomach grumbling. But the need to know about her mum nagged at her, which had her turning to head to Ingrid’s cottage.
“That is not the way to the keep, my lady,” the warrior following her cautioned.
“A short visit to see how Ingrid does,” she said and kept walking.
Ingrid turned worried eyes on Tavia when she entered and stopped her pacing, though she continued to rub low on her back.
“The pain will not stop,” Ingrid said. “It is too soon for the bairn, or I am wrong about my birthing time. Or it is nothing but worry for my husband.” She nodded as if that explanation satisfied her.
“Has Marta gone to fetch Greta?” Tavia asked, walking over to Ingrid to slip her arm around hers and walk her to the bed to sit. If so, why hadn’t she passed the woman on the way here?
“Aye, but she should have returned by now.” Ingrid grabbed at her stomach and cringed in pain. “It is time. I will lose the bairn and Sven as well this day.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks.
“Nonsense,” Tavia said curtly. “You are a strong Northwoman and will deliver a strong bairn for your husband to see when he returns home.”
“I want Marta. I am sorry she treats you as poorly as she does, but she has always been there for me, please find her. I need her,” Ingrid pleaded.
“I will send for Greta, then find Marta,” Tavia said and went to the door and spoke with the warrior. “You must go get Greta. Ingrid’s time has come.”
“I cannot leave you,” the warrior said.
“I am not going to leave Ingrid. I will remain here,” she assured him. “It will not take long if you hurry.”
The warrior took off running, quickly disappearing behind a cottage a short distance away. Relieved it would not take him long, she went to shut the door and see to Ingrid.
The door was shoved opened, and Marta stumbled in, William following quickly behind her, a dagger in his hand.
“Hurry, you all come with me,” William ordered after kicking the door closed.
“I am not going anywhere with you. I am about to give birth,” Ingrid said with an angry sneer.
“You come with me now or she dies,” William threatened and held the blade to Marta’s neck.
* * *
Bhric’s warriors descended on the battle with roars and shouts and in little time the last of the mercenaries fell to them. He stood bloody on the battlefield, none of the blood his, and surveyed the results of his victory. The dead and dying lay scattered over the field.
“A few of our warriors are wounded but we lost none. Clan MacVannan did not fare as well,” Sven said.
“Ivan?” Bhric asked, glancing about.
“Someone reported seeing him being dragged out of the battlefield but knows nothing more.”
Bhric muttered an oath before saying, “Leave sufficient men here to clean up and get the wounded back home, MacVannan as well as MacShane. The rest will leave with us.”
“What’s wrong?” Sven asked anxiously.
“We have been tricked and I fear my wife is in danger,” Bhric said and ran to his horse, Fen at his heels
* * *
