"Maybe we should sing something," Lady Brandon suggested as the company passed a valley between two hills, "A traveling song or the like. Something needs to crack this graveyard atmosphere."
It was two days after Ethan signed the scrolls that turned him into not much more than a commoner with a title, yet the air between the spearhead of the group with the unchained prisoner leading them, and the dead end where Katherine and Nathaniel rode, was still as heavy as stone. And it was not any usual stone, but a whole mountain mighty enough to press any army to their knees, much less the ten-some guards that rode with them. Even Lady Brandon, a very outspoken woman, took two days to speak up with this simple suggestion. And it was only because she couldn't endure it any longer.
When nobody answered, Lady Brandon turned to her friend for help. "Come on, Kathy. You must know a song or two, right?"
Katherine's face was frozen in a pale scowl for hours now, but she made the effort to press her lips into a smile for her friend, albeit a thin one. "I'm not feeling so good today. Please just... let it rest, Ella. I also don't know any songs for this situation and we can't sneak with drums and trumpets in our wake."
Lady Brandon sighed, almost rolling her eyes. "You don't need to worry about enemies. There is nobody here for miles in each direction."
"You can't know that. And even if so, there is at least one enemy right there." With a thrust of her chin, Katherine pointed at Ethan, her smile gone again.
Lady Brandon sighed very deeply this time. Then she peeked at Nathaniel out of the corners of her eyes as she muttered seemingly to herself. "The moral is abyssal here. I wonder if even bandits could wreck us now. This beautiful valley would really turn into a graveyard then. Haaah."
Nathaniel cast her a long look. "A song would not change anything."
"Oh, you've got no idea. There is a story at sea about a violin player who stopped a war just with the power of music. Music is a fascinating thing. If only I had a flute at hand, I could also brighten the mood without the need to sing. You know my brother always says I'm singing like other people snore. Croaky and annoyingly off-rhythm."
"Hm," was Nathaniel's only response, his face as cold and disinterested as a mountain peak.
Once more, Lady Brandon sighed, her hope slowly dwindling. "Is there really nobody here who wants to lift the atmosphere? Anyone with a nice voice to sing, tell a tale, or, damn, I would even be glad about a clown, though that would be a bit over the top. I don't think clowns often make money as soldiers though..."
Her chocolate brown eyes wandered over the small group of soldiers in front of them. They were gazing straight ahead, not a single one turning to her or even talking with their neighbors. "No, even a group of mourners would seem happier than them."
Yet, as her gaze swept over the frontmost rows, one person suddenly turned his head and murky-brown eyes met hers, followed by a seemingly harmless smile. Lady Brandon's face twisted into an exact replica of Katherine's scowl when the Duke of Sleipnir called from up front. "I know some songs! My Kitty loved them when she was younger. My throat is a bit rough right now, but I'm sure I could still -"
"Safe your breath, and you can keep your tongue," Katherine snarled, her fingers white around the reigns. "Nobody wants to hear your voice!"
"Alright, alright!" Ethan lifted his hands in surrender. "Whatever you say! I just wanted to lift the atmosphere."
"You mean you just wanted to turn it from graveyard to slaughterhouse," Katherine hissed too quietly to carry over the space between them. Then she took a few deep breaths to calm herself.
With her brows furrowed, Lady Brandon needed to admit that her attempt completely backfired. Maybe she should have just suffered in silence.
However, there was one difference her intervention made, a difference she didn't notice until Nathaniel suddenly pulled on his reigns. "Halt! We are resting here."
Before the whole company reacted to his call, Nathaniel had already dismounted and reached his wife's side in large, almost rushed strides. Then he reached out his arms. "Come down. Hold onto me. Yes, like that. Carefully."
Completely without her usual concern about her image as a brave woman - not even a word -, Katherine supported herself on Nathaniel's broad shoulders and more slipped than descended out of her saddle. He caught her in time, his one arm supporting her back, the other lifting her below the knees so that he could carry her away from the horses and the crowd.
As he walked, she hid her face in his neck, the cold sweat on her forehead made him anxious.
"Skin," he whispered and carefully pulled her aside until her head rested on his clothed shoulder instead. "How are you feeling? Does it hurt? Are you... bleeding?"
The word hung between them dreadfully, and Nathaniel was blaming himself inwardly. He was a harbinger of death, so how could he ever expect his seed to bring life? If Katherine lost her baby now, after weeks of care, it was way worse than him being infertile. Hope truly was a demon.
"Hurts," Katherine mumbled as she clutched her belly with two trembling hands. "It was okay just a bit ago, but... now it hurts more and more. Darling, what should I do? What if our baby... what if it...?"
She didn't end the sentence and instead sniffled quietly beside his ear. Nathaniel's heart felt like it took a hit with a hammer, sending it tumbling down into his stomach and turning it into a squashed mass of blood and pain. No answer would come over his thinly pressed lips, only his arms tightened around her, and his gait accelerated.
When he reached a free place on the side of the road, he heard feet running behind hurriedly.
"Here - blankets - pillows - water - let me -" Lady Brandon's breathless brabbling was almost incomprehensible but she managed to reach her destination even with the wobbling tower of things in her arms. Hastily, she made a makeshift bed in a rock-free place. She might be late to notice the problem, but Nathaniel's sudden actions were enough to tell her what was happening.
Nathaniel couldn't manage more than a nod, his attention fully focused on his wife. As if Katherine was a crumbling glass figurine, he slowly got to his knees before gently shifting her onto the blankets.
"Call Walt, he's the field doc," Nathaniel instructed through gritted teeth and wished he'd searched for a trustworthy doctor more specialized in pregnancy or even a wet nurse at the time they'd stayed in camp. But no, there were too many other tasks at the time that he didn't think about it. After all, they did have a doctor as any fighting unit should, but he wasn't specialized in the field that was needed right now.
When Lady Brandon ran to search for the man, Katherine took Nathaniel's hand and pressed it tightly. Her other hand had gone into her trousers and come out clean again. Despite her pain, there was only determination in her eyes as she bared her teeth in an attempt to smile. "Not bleeding. Not yet."