Leofric found himself practically running north on the narrow track back towards Ormceastre, the nearest village of any size. When he had originally come this way two weeks earlier, the walk had taken more than four hours, but he had not been in any great hurry then. He kept his eyes alert for any sign of life at the several farmsteads he had passed on the way--any hint of light or fire-smoke would mean a shorter trip and quicker help for Fritha. He had scant attention for the many stars overhead, or the frosty light of the full moon, save that it provided surer footing in the night.

He was certain that he would have to go all the way to the village, when his nose caught a hint of wood-smoke in the distance. He followed the scent to a trail leading to a small timber-framed building some distance off the road. He saw a glimmer of light from the smoke-hole, and proceeded to beat on the door. At last a voice responded to his insistent pounding, demanding his business. A seaxa voice, thank the gods! Leofric quickly explained the need for help in a birthing, and reluctantly the door opened. He noted the bar leaning next the door frame which had been keeping the door closed, and the upheld knife of the man who stood before him.

"You're that man as was in Ormceastre a wheyl back...thought ye'd be far off by nu! What's this 'bout a woman, then?" His tired grey eyes were anything but welcoming, nor was the raspy tone of his voice. Leofric saw that the knife wavered not a bit, nor did he make room for this unwelcome visitor to come in.

Leofric sighed in exasperation, though shaking the man would surely do his errand no good. He quickly explained that he was staying down the road at a new farm, and that the wife was going to give birth very soon. He missed the hard set of the man's mouth as he continued on with his story.

"One less danish brat'd be a blessing, I say! God rot'em and all their kin!"

Fury clouded Leofric's thoughts and vision for what seemed ages, and he found his hands clenching tightly with the effort to resist seizing the door-bar and smashing the fool's pictish head in. He shook his head violently to clear it and took a step forward, his voice coming in a snarling hiss of anger. "Damn you to hell! These are good people who've harmed no one--they even settled new land, rather than taking over an abandoned farmstead! If you won't help for our Saviour's sake, then I'll pay you!"

Leofric saw movement behind the man's back, and the form of an older woman came into partial view. She was dressed in a heavy cloak, and carried a small pack in one hand--with the other she poked sharply at the man's side, causing him to turn toward her. At his protest, she poked him again, harder this time.

"I dinna raise ye so, Cullain! Give o'er, this be woman's craft and nary a bit o' your concern." She turned fully to Leofric, pushing past the abashed man. "Wellna, laddie...leave go an' lead on to th' guid lass!"

Leofric set off at a quick pace, then remembered that he was with an old woman and started to slow down. Her sharp voice caused him to nearly stumble on the path. "Mon, an' the day I canna keep up wi' a saxon, I'll be for the crows!" And she did indeed set a pace that he found hard to match after a while. Had he not spent much time doing field-work of late, his legs would have been close to giving out before they came to the track leading to Markstad Farm an hour later. She took in the construction of the place at a glance, and nodded sharply, motioning for Leofric to lead the way in.

As their eyes adjusted to the light, he saw Halvard still sitting next to his wife, trying to get her to take some broth, while Ola jumped up from a pot by the fire and rushed toward Leofric and the old woman. Leofric laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly, and smiled in reassurance. "She's come to help--the local wicce." And he had Ola explain to his parents that the woman would do all she could to ensure the safe delivery of the baby and the mother too.

The woman went over to Fritha, and quickly took in the current state of affairs. She looked at Halvard and smiled, motioning away the broth and digging into her pouch for a packet of dried herbs which she tossed to Leofric. "Have him," and she pointed to the anxious Ola, "boil this and strain it into a cup of water." She pulled a second object from the bag beside her--a short and well-worn stick, which she placed in Fritha's free hand, the other still being held by Halvard. By her motions, Leofric couldn't decide if the woman was to hold it or chew it when pain struck her again, but Fritha seemed to understand.

Ola returned with a cup of steaming liquid, which he handed to the woman. She had the norse woman drink slowly until the cup was empty, then told Leofric to have some clean cloths brought. This done, Leofric watched as the woman loosened Fritha's gown, raising it above her waist, and proceeded to cleanse the area thus revealed. At this point Leofric turned away, and he heard the woman's dry laugh. "'tis womancraft, dinna tell ye!" This was far different from watching the stock being born back in Deira!

He glanced back once, to see the woman probing at Fritha's swollen belly with her fingers, and noted that her breathing had slowed and she seemed to be having less distress than before. Suddenly, Fritha convulsed in pain, and the woman put the stick between her teeth. "It goes well, but the babe isna guid set...when it come, I mon needs turn it." She let none of her concern show on her face, but Leofric noted that Halvard caught the tone, and looked imploringly at the saxon for explanation. Leofric did his best, but he saw no lessening of the man's anxiety.

"An it comes, yon man," pointing at Halvard, "must hold her down hard, wi' the lad t'help if I say! Yerself must do aught else, as they ken little o' the saxon tongue." And she pointed to where Halvard and Ola must be when the time came: Halvard at his wife's shoulders, with Ola beside him. Further discussion was cut short as Fritha convulsed again. Gulping anxiously, Leofric explained to Ola what must be done, and he watched as the two moved into their appointed places.

Fritha's body shone with sweat, and her contractions came ever closer, her moans stifled by the stick; the effect of the herbal decoction was evident by the fact that between contractions, she seemed relatively relaxed and pain-free. It seemed like days before the wise-woman leaned forward and placed a small talisman beneath Fritha's head, and said something in a language which Leofric could not understand...being from Deira, he knew some words of the wealhas speech, but this was something else entirely. "Tis nigh," and the woman once more placed her hands on Fritha's stomach, more forcefully this time. At the next contraction, she grunted to herself, and Leofric nearly fainted when he saw what she was doing with her right hand! Her look at Halvard needed no translation, and the man held his wife as still as he could. "Harder, mon!" At her tone, Halvard gripped Fritha more firmly, and motioned for Ola to assist.

Before the next contraction, she told Leofric to fetch more cloths, clean linen to wrap the baby in...and a clean knife. When he handed her his eating knife, she shook her head and pointed to the steaming kettle of herbs. Not knowing what good it would do, Leofric cleaned the knife in the kettle, and placed it on a cloth next to her. "Wi' the moder's help, 't will be well! The baby is turned aricht nu, an will come betimes."

It seemed like hours before, with much straining and sweating, the woman held up a blood-streaked creature which began to cry when she struck it. She wiped it with the clean cloths, and laid it on Fritha's now much smaller belly, then proceeded to cut the cord from it's navel. Leofric could not watch as she then tied off the bleeding cut, and cleaned up the mess made by the delivery. He thought the squalling thing to be the ugliest of all creatures under heaven, but the look on Halvard's face clearly showed that opinion to be his alone. He saw that even Ola shared some of his father's feelings--and guessed that you had to be part of the family to like something so red and noisy.

Perhaps he would have had different feelings, had he not been the youngest child in his family? he thought. After another look at the new born: Perhaps not! The only thing he knew for sure, was that sleep would now be harder to find at night!