25th December 1102

Lands sakes… I can scarce be believin’ it meself,” Hepsie exclaimed as she held the baby up so they could all closely examine her face.

“It can’t be,” Cindra gazed down at the squirming newborn, “It simply can’t.”

She resembled most newborns in that she was wrinkled and slightly red but there was no mistaking those eyes.

“Surely not,” she exclaimed again, in consternation, gently turning the baby’s face this way and that, looking for some other more explainable resemblance.

“Oh come ladies, it’s plain as day. We’ve all spent many hours looking into those very eyes as they extolled to us the value of virtue and the folly of sin. We’ve sat and listened as the owner of those very same eyes prescribed to us long lists of punishments for our slightest indiscretion. No, for even the very thought of indiscretion,” Lisbet drawled.

Cindra’s eyes flicked over to the Countess who was lying back, exhausted on the bed. She wondered how much the women knew and whether she could hear their loud whispering. If so, she gave no indication, her eyes closed, her shoulders drooping wearily as she leaned heavily against the backboard of the bed.

“The damn hypocrite!” Lisbet hissed, her angry voice raising abruptly above the rustling of their whispers.

“I confessed to him many times and he just sat there, staring at me with those compassionate, pious eyes of his. And all the time, he was the biggest sinner of us all.”

“Holier than thou hypocrite,” she spat.

Cindra had to admit she was completely taken aback. She would have never expected this of the Father, in truth she would have believed it was her own husband before she would have pointed the finger at him. And yet, there they were, those peaceful blue eyes that had always seemed somehow sad and regretful. Perhaps now she knew why. And it was not just the baby’s eyes, her features where so similar to the priest, the curve of her tiny nose, the eyebrows that looked as though life was something of a surprise to her.

Cindra supposed it was, mere minutes before she had been warm and safely cocooned and now everything was loud and bright and there were people all around who kept staring at her.

“Now, now Lisbet. We can’t be sure of anything. It could just be a coincidence,” she chided, thought deep in her heart she knew the baby was his.

“Coincidence my foot, if that baby is not the good Father’s, I’ll… well I’ll eat my latest embroidery. Hell, I’ll have the cook make a stew, throw in some herbs, a few potatoes. The whole damn lot.”

“Hush now me Lady, yew mustn’t let him hear yew,” Hepsie murmured softly, hoisting the fussing baby onto her shoulder.

“Shush shush my little dove, yew simply mustn’t cry love, yer aunt Hepsie needs to think what to do.”

“We can’t accuse him of anything yet Lisbet, we don’t know the truth of it. Surely it could just be a coincidence. Perhaps they share some distant family tie we didn’t know of,” Cindra continued reasonably.

But it was no coincidence. She was his daughter, there could be no doubt.

“The rumours must have been true after all,” Lisbet sneered, “the good priest off diddling the countess. You remember that kiss they shared, who knows how long this has been going on?”

Cindra’s eyes flicked over to the bed once more but Valeriya seemed to have fallen asleep again.

She lowered her voice even further, “But that’s just it Lisbet. The timing doesn’t add up. She was under with a fever so very long, and it has to have been then. And you didn’t see her in front of the council, she doesn’t know who the father is.”

Lisbet stared at her, her eyes wide as she began to understand.

“If I may be bein’ blunt yer Ladyships, but all this is just rumour an’ gossip. We ain’t knowin’ the truth now, that’s fer the King an’ the menfolk to sort out. But it don’t matter now, we’ve got far bigger fish to fry.”

The baby began to whimper on her shoulder and she jiggled her up and down gently, “hush now littl’ chicken. Now listen, the Earl is bein’ right outside this door an’ we’re damn lucky, pardon me, that this baby ain’t been crying yet. Because do yew think the Earl is going to be waitin’ till he hear’s the King’s decision.”

Cindra began to understand then the sort of trouble they were in.

“No, if he this littl’ missy then Father Harndall’s as good as dead.”

“Yer Ladyship,” she turned to Cindra, her hand patting the baby’s back continuously as she spoke, “Yew need to be getting past the Earl somehow. Tell him its not over yet. Lie yer littl’ heart out, do what yew have to. Then yew go and find Father Harndall an’ yew take him and hide him somewhere the Earl won’t think to look.”

Cindra nodded, her eyes seeking out Lisbet’s which were turned away.

“I’m going to see if the Countess will feed her, that should keep her quiet fer a bit. Godspeed yer Ladyship.”

“Good luck,“ Lisbet mumbled.

Cindra took one last look at the baby. She was staring at her with those mournful eyes, like deep blue pools of water sparkling in an errant rays of sunlight. She stretched out one tiny hand as though to wish her well on her journey.

Arwaduhn, Cade, Moraghdu, Tadhgar