In Which Arydath Meets a Gypsy and a Nun

January 3, 1156

"So, are you going to actually get some work done today, or are you just going to sit there and stare at the sky like a lazy old ass?" Arydath demanded of her husband as she approached him, their little daughter in tow.

Halford laughed. "Since I'm already done my work for the day, I'd say the latter."

Arydath couldn't help but smile slightly; what a silly man she had married! Simultaneously thoughtful and thoughtless, driven and relaxed, simple and complex... oh, but such was love. As far as Arydath was concerned, Halford could never possibly do anything that would make her stop loving him, even if he chose to be a lazy ass for the rest of his days. Well, maybe if he started being a complete prude... nah, it wouldn't be too hard to fire him up again. He was a man, after all.

"Look at the ducks, Lyraina," she cooed to her baby as she gazed at the pond at the side of the pigpen, "with all their little ducklings..."

"Maybe one day, we'll have that many ducklings," teased Halford.

Arydath sighed. "If you think I'm getting into bed with you when the memory of giving birth's this fresh in my head, think again. I'm not sleeping with you until I simply can't go another night without sex."

"So tonight, then?"

"Oh, Halford, you great stupid ox!" she snapped, holding Lyraina close. "I was thinking maybe tomorrow."

"Excuse me, good people," greeted a female voice from the road.

Arydath looked up to see two women standing on the dirt road, facing her family. The further figure was dressed in the garb of a Dovian nun, with her shapeless black dress, white habit, and a heavy bronze crucifix around her neck. The other, judging by her dark coloring and exotic dress, could only have been a gypsy, which Arydath had most definitely not been expecting; the gypsies rarely came even so far west as Dovia, so Naroni seemed quite an unlikely place to meet one.

The gypsy began to approach. "Greetings," she bade them; her voice, completely void of traces of any accent, betrayed her as the one who had spoken earlier. She was quite a bit older than Arydath, maybe in her early or mid forties, but retained a certain air of mysterious beauty about her--Arydath prayed that Halford wasn't looking at her.

But who was she kidding? Of course he was.

"Hello, good lady," he acknowledged the foreigner, staring somewhat south of the face region. "What can I do for you this fine day?"

"Well, my companion and I have been traveling for several days now," she began with a slight tilt of her head. "If we could seek shelter inside your house for an hour or so, we would very much appreciate it."

The nun nodded in agreement, but said nothing. She was a quiet, bookish-looking young woman, no great beauty, but by no means repulsive. Surely she would be no distraction for Halford--if only she had come alone.

Halford took a moment to look the two of them over, then turned back to the gypsy and told her, "Feel free. Arydath, kindly show these ladies into the house."

She didn't feel the need to reply; she simply gestured for the two women to follow her, quite keen on getting them safely out of her husband's sight. Yes, she did trust Halford... but he was a man. And men had their weaknesses.

"Your baby is lovely," the gypsy told her as they filed inside. "What is her name?"

"Lyraina," Arydath answered promptly.

The older woman smiled. "What a pretty name. She looks just like you--not a bad thing, since I doubt your husband would make a particularly attractive woman."

Despite herself, Arydath grinned slightly; the image of a female Halford was just too amusing to let slide. "Indeed. Excuse me for a minute--I think it's this little one's nap time."

Leaving her guests by the table, she hurried into Lyraina's makeshift bedroom and held her daughter at eye level.

"You're such a big baby; mind you, so are all the rest of them. There must be something strange about this place--there's yet to be a miscarriage or stillbirth, even! It's so odd..."

But why was she talking to the baby? It wasn't as if she understood, or even cared. Sighing, Arydath placed the infant in her crib, then took a deep breath and rejoined the gypsy and the nun in the kitchen.

"You must forgive my rudeness," the gypsy muttered softly as Arydath approached her. "I asked your daughter's name, but failed to inquire as to yours and your husband's."

"Oh, not to worry. I'm Arydath," she introduced herself, "and my husband is Halford Diarn."

The woman turned to face her. "You are Goodwife Diarn, the midwife?"

Arydath nodded. "You've heard of me?"

"Oh yes. You're quite famous in these parts--the only midwife this kingdom has. You must be in exhaustingly high demand."

"Well..." she admitted, "I suppose I would like to spend more time with my husband and daughter, rather than running around the kingdom delivering everyone else's babies. And my next baby, I'd prefer it if I didn't have to talk a great oaf like Halford through the whole process again."

"I see. Anyway, this woman here is Sister Elwyna," stated the gypsy, her dark eyes flickering towards the nun. "She wants to set up an orphanage here, for when there is need of one in Naroni. As for me, I am Laveria of Ashtoreth--or at least, that's what they call me in Dovia."

"I don't think I've ever heard of Ashtoreth," Arydath mused aloud, frowning, "and Laveria doesn't sound like a gypsy name. I don't think that's the name you were born with."

A sly smile appeared on Laveria's face, but she did not speak of the matter any further. "I'm only a herbalist, but I have delivered several babies in my day. I had to deliver my own baby, and he's as strong a young man as any now."

"Oh, thank God!" exclaimed Arydath in relief. "I must say, when I saw you approaching, I thought you meant trouble, but Naroni is growing, and we really do need another midwife in the kingdom. Where are you planning on setting up your home?"

"Veldorashire. I have family there."

"Oh, you'll love it there. It's quite easily the happiest shire; probably because its lord doesn't listen to a thing the king says."

Laveria grinned knowingly. "Indeed."

"The church is located in the king's shire, correct?" inquired Sister Elwyna, her gentle soprano speaking for the first time. "I daresay I shall stay there until an orphanage is built."

"Yes. I'm sure Father Quintus wouldn't mind; he's a good man," Arydath did her best to assure her.

"A rare thing these days," laughed Laveria rather bitterly. "Last time I met a good man, he was happily married."

"That's a shame," chuckled Arydath, glancing out the window in search of a trace of Halford.

"Oh no. It wasn't long after that he was not such a good man--how do you think I got my son?"

Arydath smiled, while Sister Elwyna emitted a strange sound that seemed to be some sort of offspring of a gasp and a giggle.

"But speaking of good men," Laveria pressed on, "you are familiar with the Earl of Bandera, correct?"

Curious, Arydath leaned toward her. "Queen Geneva's brother? Yes, what about him?"

Laveria sighed. "Well, unfortunately, he's become rather ill."

"The earl? Really?" demanded Arydath. "He's always been such a strong man--you can tell just by looking at him."

"It certainly is a mystery," the other woman agreed, "but either way, it does affect you. Your queen is his sister, and your Lady Veldora, his sister-in-law. Sooner or later, your nobles will be called home to Dovia for the funeral, and somehow, you will have to establish some order."

Arydath closed her eyes. "If that should happen, we should be fine. I doubt the king would bother to attend his brother-in-law's funeral; he'll still be here."

A troubled look crossed Laveria's features. "Yes, that's what worries me."

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