Page 11 of Her Dark Viking
The only relevant experience Gunnar could draw upon had been gained among horseflesh, but how much different could this be? It was merely a matter of assisting nature surely, and of tending to the babe when it slithered into the daylight. Gunnar refused to dwell on the terrifying mortality rate among women in childbirth. His own stepmother had died that way just five years earlier, struggling to bring their stillborn sister into the world. Mairead would not perish the same way, he would not allow it. He had only just found her, he was determined not to lose her so soon.
"It will soon be time," he muttered, though on what he based that assertion Gunnar was not entirely sure. Certainly, though, matters seemed to be reaching a crescendo if Mairead's ear-splitting howls were anything to go by. Her contractions were just seconds apart now, and she was straining to expel the little life buried within her contorting abdomen.
Gunnar lifted the blanket which covered her and peered between her widespread knees.Was that...? Yes, it was. It most definitely was.He could see the head, the little mop of dampened red-gold hair quite unmistakable.
"Almost there," he called to Mairead. "When the next contraction comes you will push. Yes?"
Steinn translated, though Gunnar was no longer sure this was needed. He and his Celtic captive were in perfect accord on this. Pain seized her again and this time he reached for the little being struggling to join him in his world. The head was fully out and he was able to gently turn the tiny form so the childwas facing upwards. The eyes were closed, the nose and mouth covered in birthing fluids Gunnar wiped the baby's puckered face, just as another, final contraction caused Mairead to shriek in agonised triumph as the rest of the tiny infant slipped into his waiting hands.
It was a girl. And she was perfect. Something twisted deep within Gunnar as he peered into the peaceful, reddened little features. She was still attached by the cord, and even as he gazed in wonder at the minute scrap of humanity Mairead heaved again and the rest of the afterbirth slipped onto the blanket beneath her.
Should she be crying?Babies always cried as soon as they were birthed, he was convinced he had heard that. This one was silent. And still. Too silent, too still.
Mairead reached for the child, her distress showing in her ravaged features. She knew. She, too, waited for the tell-tale wailing that would announce the new life safely delivered. Instead, there was only silence.
The child must breathe. That was vital. Gunnar poked the tip of his finger between her tiny lips to check there was no blockage. He found nothing, though in truth he did not know what he sought.
Mairead muttered something, her words incomprehensible. Gunnar looked to Steinn.
"She says you must hold the child by the ankles and slap her bottom. She will breathe then."
An unlikely tale, in Gunnar's view, but he had no better plan to offer. He gripped the skinny ankles in his fist and upended the infant, then dropped a light slap on her rump. It made no difference.
Acting on instinct alone, Gunnar cupped the tiny baby in his palms and raised her to his face. He pursed his lips and blewsoftly into her tiny rosebud mouth. For a few seconds she lay still, then a shudder rippled through the fragile little body.
The miniscule mouth yawned wide, the child took in a long, ragged breath, then let out the most strident screech Gunnar thought he had ever heard. And the most beautiful. Even his battle-hardened warriors cheered and thumped their shields at the sound.
The baby was wriggling now, and exercising her lungs to good effect in making her general displeasure known. Gunnar passed the noisy infant to her mother while he busied himself in tying off the cord and slicing through it, exactly as he would with a newborn foal or lamb. By the time he looked again she was already rooting within Mairead's smock for the nipple which would be her new lifeline.
Gunnar got to his feet, straightened, tried to work the kinks from his shoulders. It had been an easy birthing, he decided, all things considered. And both mother and child had survived the ordeal thus far.
They had much to thank the gods for. As soon as he returned to his settlement, Gunnarsholm, he would offer the sacrifice of nine newborn lambs to Frey, the goddess who protected his family, in gratitude for her generosity and kindness in bringing this about. Meanwhile, he was ravenous and he supposed Mairead would be too after her labours this day. The aroma of roasting meat filled his nostrils and he smiled at the sight of a roasting haunch of meat dripping its juices into the fire. His men had not been idle whilst he was otherwise occupied, and the rest of the young boar they had hunted lay close by, ready to be transported back to their village.
Gunnar drew his dagger and carved a generous portion. He dumped the succulent pork onto a metal dish and took it to Mairead. She accepted with her free hand, the other arm tucked around her baby who suckled hungrily at her breast. The sight ofthe tiny cheeks hollowing rhythmically cheered Gunnar. A babe with such a healthy appetite would fare well enough.
"Donald...?" Mairead peered about for her other child. The lad was nowhere to be seen, no doubt unnerved by the peculiar goings on around the campfire.
Gunnar had no doubt the boy would be hungry too. He would need to check if the lad had been fed today.
No one could say. The lad had been around, hovering, quiet and fearful as ever. He had watched his mother from a distance, several men had seen him earlier, but none recently. The last time anyone was certain he had been present was over two hours ago. Gunnar swore under his breath. Had he not ordered that someone keep an eye on the boy? He commanded his men to search the camp and the immediate area.
They found nothing. The lad was gone.
"Perhaps he hid, and decided to sneak away while everyone was distracted. He did that before, back in his village."
Gunner scowled at Steinn's comments. "What do you mean? What happened back at the village?"
"You asked me to speak with him, to find out how he came to be taken with the rest."
"Yes. And?"
"He followed his mother to the second village. She had gone there to offer aid to his uncle. I understand the mother is skilled in the use of herbs for healing. Anyway, the lad remained outside the cottage. He heard our approach and fled moments before we stormed the settlement. He concealed himself in the trees close by and watched as the villagers were rounded up. He saw you bring his mother from his uncle's cottage and put her with the rest. He listened too, and heard your brother tell the Celts that they were to be taken as slaves. He remained hidden as the men were led away, but when he saw his mother among the women to be taken also, he was terrified of being left alone. So he ran downto the beach in time to hide among the men who were already being loaded into the longships."
"Did no one see him? How could he manage to conceal himself from everyone?"
"He didn't. The other Celts knew he was there, but not that he was not supposed to be."
Gunnar nodded. It made some sort of sense, he acknowledged. Not particularly accustomed to putting himself in the position of those they attacked, it did not take an enormous leap of imagination to comprehend their point of view. As far as the Celts were concerned none of them were supposed to be forced at sword point onto a Viking dragon ship and taken into slavery. One small boy cowering among the captives would not have seemed particularly out of place.
