The Everlasting Covenant (60 page)

BOOK: The Everlasting Covenant

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For her husbands, both of them, she prayed that they would finally find peace. Brennan, after death, for his goodness and forgiveness, for the love he gave her when she was less than deserving. Clifton, in the remainder of his life, for those early days, as she had promised, because of his loyalty to her. She hoped Clifton could somehow overcome the madness that threatened to consume him.

The first month in the safe house brought Anne renewed health, for the quiet and peaceful place allowed her to empty her heart of hurts, pray for forgiveness, and give thanks for the many times she had been rescued. The second month brought cooler breezes and a new strength of spirit. She was two score plus one and felt many years younger. There were good years left to her
–
at least a score. Brennan had been far older when she wedded him, and even that shy girl of sixteen had found youthful vigor in her mature mate. Whether her days would be played out here, or abroad in some convent or sanctuary, she could look back over her life and feel with certainty that it had all been worth it. She had no regrets. She was only a woman, and her failings were no more than her virtues.

The leaves were beginning to fade when Deirdre went to childbed. The young woman had been courageous in wait for the birth, but was stricken with terror when the pains began, for there was neither physician nor midwife to attend her. She cried
piteously
for Justin, still fearful he would not live to see his child. She cried for herself, for there was no one to nurse the babe if she died. It took all of Anne
’
s and Daphne
’
s strength to see her through the birth.

Deirdre labored through one afternoon and the whole night, finally bringing forth a son at dawn through frightful screams of pain. She was held down, and it was Anne
’
s own hands that brought her grandson from her daughter
’
s womb. The infant was large and squalling, pink and healthy.

“
He is alive?
”
Deirdre breathlessly asked.
“
Whole?
”

Anne
’
s tears coursed down her cheeks. She was reminded of
Sloan
’
s difficult birth, his large size. She remembered holding him to her breast, thankful to have that part of Dylan, though she might never again have him.
Did Sloan find his father?
she wondered.
Did he ever know how he had been loved?

“
Alive. Strong. Beautiful.
”
She wrapped the babe in a linen towel and passed him to Deirdre. She felt her hands trembling. She knew Deirdre would be all right, but she wondered about her other children. A mother, she learned, never stops fearing for her children, even when they have grown and left her.

Daphne
’
s hand was on Anne
’
s shoulder.
“
Leave Deirdre with me, Anne. She will sleep soon. It
’
s all right.
”

She has seen my tears before,
Anne thought,
and has always understood. That my own mother never knew my joys or sor
rows always pained me deeply, but that the gift of this woman
’
s love is mine, has always been mine, has ever eased the pain.
“
Thank you,
”
she whispered.

Anne removed the apron, soiled from the birth, and de
scended from Deirdre
’
s room. She looked at the inlet first, seeing the glitter of a rising sun move on the water, and then she opened the door to the front of the house to join the forest for the dawn. Each morning here was like a birth as the animals came alive, made their early morning noises, and the sea fog began to lift from the land. She could smell the fish, the dew on the trees and flowers, and the thick moss from the nearby marshes. It was good and clean.

The clearing before the house was small. She sat on a favored stump left by the caretaker last spring and let the chilling morn
ing refresh her. Deirdre had done well.

Suddenly, the chirping ceased and she was aware of another sound. She heard the rustling of brush, but the morning fog was still dense and she could see only the trunks of the trees at the clearing
’
s edge. The marshes and woods around this place were plentiful with boar and deer, food for their table, and she stood, thinking she might have to make a dash for the front door if a beast of the forest threatened. Sir Markham and Sir Gravis were not yet evident this early morn, but the door was stout and would keep even the meanest beast at bay.

But the beast was not of the
four-legged type. Through the br
ush that blocked the road, bushes that had purposely been left in place to keep the passages concealed, Anne saw the two booted feet. Her heart thumped at the sight, her first thought was that they could not be rousted and arrested by the king
’
s men on the morning of Deirdre
’
s birthing. Then the man broke through and she saw the weary traveler emerge, his visor up and his tabard covered by a heavy cloak. Her lips issued a voiceless prayer. He led his horse and was followed by another man, still astride, likewise dressed for warmth. A third. Tears blurred her eyes.

Dylan left his mount while the others stayed astride behind him. He approached her slowly, limping slightly. There was a contrite smile on his lips, a smile of sorrow and joy. In his eyes there were also tears. He paused a few paces in front of her.

“
The battle was done in Bosworth Field,
”
he quietly told her.
“
Richard fell to Henry Tudor
’
s own sword. So did Clifton War
ner fall in the fighting.
”

Her hand rose shakily toward him, as if she would touch his chest to be assured he was alive.
“
My sons?
”
she asked in a fearful whisper.

Dylan stepped closer, a limping step, and took her trembling hand in both of his.
“
Your family is come home, my love,
”
he whispered.
“
All of them.
”

She looked past him and saw there were three riders moving closer to dismount, slowly penetrating the fog. She could not yet see their faces, but by their silhouettes she assumed it was Justin, Gage, and even Sloan. She looked at Dylan again. Dylan tilted his head and smiled.
“
It appears he grew into a man who could feel love ... for eventually he seemed to understand. Not well, but well enough to accept a father
’
s pain, plight, and commitment.
”

Anne advanced, leaning against him and touching his beard and roughened cheeks with both hands. She sobbed his name and required his strength to keep her upright.
“
Do not leave me, Dylan. Do not leave me again.
”

“
Nay, my Anne,
”
he whispered.
“
Never again.
”