Dream of Me/Believe in Me

concern. She realized the young woman must have spoken and she had not heard her.
    “Is something wrong, my lady?”
    “No,” Cymbra said hastily. She managed a weak smile. “I'm fine, just distracted. Pray excuse me.”
    “You should rest more.” Brita glanced over at Ulfrich and Brother Joseph, who were deep in conversation, then continued in a soft voice. “It's natural to feel tiredness. You don't eat very much either.”
    “I haven't had much appetite,” Cymbra admitted.
    “You know better than I that there are tonics to help with such upset. Gentle things that will do no harm.”
    Cymbra nodded, but absently, for just then she saw the Rus trader come into the hall. He stood for a moment, peering through the filtered light, before spotting her. He hurried to join the little group by the fire but he had notice only for Cymbra.
    “Lady, I am so relieved to find you! My Nadia, her time has come! Please, you must hurry!”
    Brother Joseph stood and placed a gentle hand on Mikal's arm. “Easy now, friend. Even I know babies take their sweet time, and you've thought this one was coming ere now.”
    “This time he really comes! And soon!” He looked to Cymbra. “My Nadia, she says, bring the lady quickly! Please, you come!”
    Cymbra got to her feet, never taking her eyes from him. Her stomach clenched.
    “I spoke with your wife just yesterday. She promised me she would come here at the first sign of labor.”
    “There was no time! Everything happened too swiftly.” He faltered and she saw the fear in his eyes. “Please, lady, there is blood. Just drops but there should not be blood, should there?”
    She took a breath, her lips pressed tight together. Brita caught her eye. A silent understanding passed between them. Cymbra exhaled slowly. She turned to Mikal. Gently, she said, “It's all right. I will come.”
    “My lady …” Ulfrich and Brother Joseph spoke almost in unison, one swiftly echoing the other. A glance at them was enough to tell Cymbra that they were well aware she was not supposed to leave the fortress. Did everyone know, then? Would anyone actually try to stop her?
    “Dame Mikal must be brought here,” Brother Joseph said.
    Cymbra shook her head. “She can't be moved, especially not in all this mud. It's too …” She paused, seeing the trader's strained face. “It's too slippery.”
    Quickly, before anyone could object further, she turned to Brita. “Please, my cloak and the chest from beside the bed.”
    “Your gray cloak, my lady?”
    “Yes, that one.” The cloak would offer at least some concealment, in case anyone was tempted to stop her.
    “I will go with you,” Brita said.
    Cymbra laid a hand on her arm. “No, I go alone.”
    “But, my lady—” This time it was Ulfrich who objected. “You should not be unaccompanied! One of us will—”
    “No,” Cymbra said even more firmly. She would not, could not, involve anyone else in this. Wolf's wrath, if it had to come at all, must fall only on her. Determined on that as she was, it took precious moments to convince Ulfrich and Brother Joseph that she meant what she said. Even so, she felt their unhappy gazes as she hurried from the hall.
    Brita was even more stubborn when she met her with the cloak and medicine box. “You will need help, my lady,” she insisted even as she donned her own cloak, preparing to go with Cymbra. “It is only sensible to take me with you.”
    Cymbra hefted the box in one hand and pulled the hood up over her head with the other. She was vividly aware of Mikal, standing nearby, bouncing from one foot to the other in his agitation. Gazing into the pale but determined face of the young Irish girl, she shook her head firmly.
    “No, Brita, you absolutely will not come. You must promise me, as you value your service to me, that you will not think of following.”
    The girl hesitated, her expression making it clear toCymbra that was exactly what she'd planned to do if she was refused.
    “Promise,” Cymbra insisted. For good measure, she added, “Swear before God.”
    Brita looked heavenward as though seeking guidance, or perhaps just patience. “My lady …”
    “No, I mean it. You must swear.” Softly, she added, “And we both know why.”
    The two women, so different in upbringing and position, shared a moment of stark equality. Each knew herself to be vulnerable to the anger of a man. Each knew what defiance could bring.
    Cymbra put out a hand and gave the girl a gentle shove back