Dream of Me/Believe in Me

in Sciringesheal that he had built a house in the town. She was expecting her first child and had approached Cymbra, through the monk, earlier in the week.
    Nor was she alone. Barely had the first rumors about her healing skills begun to spread, aided no doubt by Brita, than people began asking for her help. So far, they were all Christians, but she hoped that would change soon.
    Having assured Brother Joseph she would go at once,she hurried to the lodge and gathered up her supplies. Back outside, she sought Wolf. When she could not find him, she went up to one of the men of her guard.
    “Do you know where Lord Wolf has gone?” she asked.
    The big, hard-faced warrior looked down at the ground, then up at the sky, then to either side, anywhere but at her. Curtly, as though unsure that he should speak to her at all, he said, “To the river. To swim.”
    Cymbra thought briefly of going after him but time was rushing past. Besides, his absence might be a blessing in disguise. The man was so damnably protective, there was no assurance he would let her go.
    She murmured her thanks and walked away in the direction of the kitchens, but before she reached them she turned a quick corner that took her out of sight of the men on the field. Removing a plain gray cloak from her bag, the same kind of cloak worn by many of the servants, she put it on, raised the hood over her head, and walked straight out through the open gate. Consoling herself with the thought that Wolf would surely understand, once he knew the circumstances, she made her way back down to the town.
    As it turned out, Dame Mikal's time had not come, she was merely experiencing the false pains that could easily be mistaken for the real thing by first-time mothers. Cymbra sat with her for an hour or so, long enough for the pains to end and not return.
    “I am so sorry, my lady,” Dame Mikal said when she realized she was not in labor. Her Norse was slow but fluent, accented with the rhythm of her native tongue. “I should never have asked Brother Joseph for you until I knew for sure.”
    “Not at all,” Cymbra assured her. “It's much better to be on the safe side.” She laid her hand gently on the young woman's swollen belly and smiled. “You have afine, strong child, but I suspect he—or she—will wish to remain within you several weeks yet. However, if you experience pains again, please call for me. Babies have been known to surprise people.”
    Her gentle reassurance calmed the Rus woman, who clasped her hand in gratitude. So, too, did her husband, who had returned rapidly from an expedition into the hills to meet with the fur and amber traders whose goods he bought.
    “We cannot thank you enough, my lady,” he said huskily. His gaze on his wife, he said, “My Nadia should be home safe with her own mother but she insisted on coming with me. Glad though I am to have her near, I worry for her safety birthing a child in this harsh place.”
    “It is hard to be far from home,” Cymbra agreed. She still missed Holyhood although she tried very hard not to think about that, or indeed of what lay ahead when her brother realized what had happened to her.
    Most especially, she tried not to think about the inevitable day of reckoning and how she would bring about the peaceful reconciliation between her husband and brother that she was determined to effect.
    “However,” she continued, “women have babies here all the time. You mustn't worry.”
    She left the small house a short time later, reflecting on the couple's obvious devotion to each other. Unbidden, the question rose in her mind of how Wolf would feel once she was with child. That she would be was not in doubt given her husband's obvious virility. It was even possible that she might be already.
    A smile tugged at her mouth as she touched a hand very lightly to her belly. If life was there she didn't know it yet, nor was she likely to early on, for her body had never been particularly regular in such things. But when there was … She didn't dare hope he would show the samecare as the Rus trader, yet she couldn't help but wish for it all the same.
    Cymbra had little opportunity to consider this before she slipped back in through the stronghold gates, returned her cloak and medicines to the lodge, and hurried off to check on preparations for supper. She was crossing the open area in front of the great timbered hall when she saw a crowd had gathered.
    Even as she stepped closer to see what drew