Be With Me, Page 7

  Seven

  WHILE ELISUD WAS fairly sure that gathering cowpats wasn’t the most unpleasant thing he’d ever done, he was struggling to come up with something worse. It wasn’t the smell so much as the slimy, squishy texture, and the fact that it got everywhere. His Ceri had always hated it when he gutted fish, but right now, Elisud thought he’d rather do three days straight of that chore, than spend another morning scooping cowpats off the ground.

  At least Ceri seemed to be enjoying herself with the younger children, who were spending more time throwing sheep droppings at each other than putting them in their baskets. Pausing for a brief rest, Elisud blotted his sweaty forehead on his shoulder, and watched Mihal and Ceri sneak up on Senara on one side, while Elowen approached from the other. The third of Rosen’s daughters had long ago cast her basket aside and was sitting making daisy chains while her other cousins did all the work.

  Not for much longer, by the looks of things. Elisud couldn’t help but laugh as the three children pounced on their lazy cousin and pelted her with sheep mess.

  “Nice to see things are continuing much as usual,” Kensa remarked, using his waterskin to rinse his hands before taking a sip. He offered the same to Elisud, who sloshed off the top layer of slime with a grateful grin.

  “It’s good to see my Ceri making friends.”

  “That girl of yours would find friends in the middle of the moors with only rocks and gorse for company.”

  Chuckling at the truth of that, Elisud untied his own waterskin from his belt and took a long, refreshing drink. “You’ve got all this to look forward to,” he said to Ruan, who was now making the most of Kensa’s water to clean his hands too.

  The younger man snorted. “What do you mean look forward to? My Gerens is like that already, and I’ve no doubt Wella will follow, as soon as he figures out how to walk.”

  The three men chuckled. Elisud was certain sure the other men, like himself, were reflecting proudly on their own offspring, while feeling grateful they didn’t have any girls like Rosen’s of their own.

  “Speaking of such things,” Ruan remarked, lowering his waterskin from his lips, “isn’t that your Dem over there, running like a pack of wolves is on his tail?”

  Elisud whipped his head around. Certain sure, there was Demairo, soaking wet and sprinting hard out of the trees. The waterskin fell unheeded from Elisud’s hand as he ran towards his nephew, Kensa close behind.

  “Mairo!” he called, catching the boy by the shoulders. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  Gulping as he tried to catch his breath, Demairo gripped his uncle’s wrists and gasped, “Br-Briallen. H-hurt.”

  Elisud didn’t even wait to ask where, why or how, he just patted his nephew’s shoulder and ran for the woods. Behind he could hear Kensa questioning Demairo more deeply, but the boy wasn’t answering. Elisud had no doubt his nephew was even now tugging Kensa and Ruan in his wake. All Elisud cared about was finding Briallen and discovering how badly she’d been hurt.

  The woods were surprisingly cool as he passed from the sunlit fields to beneath the canopy of birch and beech, and he almost fell top over tail as the land suddenly dropped away beneath him. Catching himself on a handy young sapling, Elisud took a moment to scan the scene. It was only a short slope, with the river visible at the bottom.

  Halfway down Rosen’s two eldest daughters were arguing over something, voices rising with accusation and shrill defence. And there, lying by their feet, was the curled up form of a woman, bright gold hair scattered amongst the undergrowth.

  “Briallen!” Letting go of his tree he launched down the slope again.

  Melwynn and Tekka looked up at his shout and scattered, guilt clear on their faces. Elisud had no time nor thoughts to spare for them now, all that mattered was reaching Briallen. Her face was bloodless as he fell to his knees beside her, her whole body locked tight, knees against her chest, fingers in fists.

  “Tell me where it hurts,” he said softly, taking one of her cold hands and cupping it between the warmth of his hands.

  “Cramps,” she replied through gritted teeth, prising open her eyes to meet his worried gaze. Her own was terrified. “I’m th-think I’m b-bleeding. My baby.” Her eyes shut again, a tear escaping to trail down her cheek.

  “Hold on,” he said, shifting closer and slipping a hand behind her back, sitting her up. She cried out, but he didn’t stop. “Hold on to me.”

  Biting her lip, she slid her arms around his neck, squeezing tight as he moved his other arm beneath her legs and hauled her into his arms. A whimper escaped her control, but she tucked her head beneath his chin and didn’t complain.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, lurching from his knees to his feet, staggering as he felt a patch of wetness against his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  She said nothing, just pressed her damp face against his chest and silently wept as he carried her back to the farm.