once that the woman was in a bad way, Molly took her outstretched hand and gripped it comfortingly. She was distressed to note that despite the bitter cold the girl’s hand was feverishly hot and she was shivering uncontrollably. Molly’s kind heart went out to her, and her eyes filled with tears at the poor soul’s plight.
‘Hold on, me love, I’ll go an’ get help,’ she promised as she tried to rise, but the girl shook her head and gripped Molly’s hand all the tighter.
‘No, please.’ Her every word was an effort. ‘It’s … too late to help me now.’
Molly’s heart was aching as, fumbling deep in her coat pocket, she pulled out a white linen handkerchief. She could sense that the poor girl was almost at her end and a wave of helplessness washed over her. Leaning, she began to dab at the beads of sweat that glistened in the darkness on the girl’s forehead, searching her mind for words of comfort, but finding none.
The young woman was gasping for breath now and struggling to tell Molly something. Molly leaned closer to try and hear what the girl was attempting to say. She suddenly turned imploring eyes to Molly, and the older woman’s heart skipped a beat as she stared back at her. The girl was breathtakingly beautiful, with tangled auburn hair, a perfect heart-shaped face and huge dark eyes fringed with long dark lashes. Even in her pain, she was easily the prettiest girl that Molly had ever seen.
‘Please … take my baby.’ The girl’s voice was genteel, and Molly’s eyes almost started from her head with shock at her words.
‘What did yer say, love? What baby?’ Molly cast her eyes about the freezing recess, sure that she must have misunderstood what the poor lass had said. The only thing her eyes could pick out in the darkness was a large tapestry bag tucked close to the girl’s side, but there was no sign at all of a baby and Molly guessed that she was delirious.
‘There ain’t no baby here, love,’ she told her gently, but even as she uttered the words the girl was becoming more and more agitated and, with what appeared to be the last of her strength, was trying to push the bag at Molly.
‘Please,’ she begged again as the tears coursed down her ashen cheeks. Molly nodded quickly. ‘All right, all right, me love, calm down now. I’ll take yer baby – I promise.’
The girl let out a sigh of relief. ‘Oh thank you, God bless you.’ She gasped, and suddenly her grip on Molly’s hand slackened and there was only silence, save for the swaying of the yew trees in the wind.
Molly scratched her head in consternation. She had no way of knowing if the girl had lapsed into unconsciousness or passed away. All she did know was that she had to get help – and quickly. Her mind sought about for the best thing to do. There was no way at all that she could carry the girl. That was out of the question. She would have to go and get people to help and bring them back here.
Afraid to waste another minute, she hoisted herself to her knees and then she suddenly remembered the tapestry bag and the girl’s insistence that she should take it.
Reaching down, she grasped the handles and swung it as best she could on to her shoulder. Inside there might be some clue as to the girl’s identity, and if there was, then she could let her next-of-kin know what had happened. With a last worried glance at the poor young woman, Molly stumbled from the shelter of the doorway and back out into the blinding snow.
Within the shelter of the snow-laden yew trees a silent observer drew further back into the shadows, scarcely daring to breathe in case Molly should see him. He had followed the girl for days and witnessed the whole sorry tragedy that had just taken place. But now all he had to do was wait for Molly to leave and then his job would be almost done and he could report back to his master.
In the warmth of the back room in the small tavern, the servant stood twisting his cap in his hands as he faced his master.
‘It is done then?’
‘Yes, sir. Just as you said.’
‘And the child – are you quite sure that it was dead?’