Bertrice Small - Besieged

William Devers suddenly kicked his horse, and the beast leapt forward, startled, knocking both Jasmine and the Reverend Mr. Steen to the road. A cry of outrage arose from the Maguire's Ford people, but then to everyone's surprise a single shot rang out. With an absolutely astounded look in his eye, Sir William tumbled forward from his horse and onto the ground.

"They've shot Sir William," the cry arose among the Lisnaskea men. "We must be avenged!"

"Nay, the Maguire's Ford men did not shoot him. I did," a voice from among the Lisnaskea mob said, and surprised, they parted to allow a young lad forward.

" 'Tis Bruce Morgan, the smith's son," came a faceless cry.

The Reverend Samuel Steen pulled himself to his feet while the duke helped his wife up. "Why, lad?" the Protestant cleric asked the youngster. "Why have you killed Sir William, Bruce Morgan?" Gently he took the ancient pistol from the lad, amazed it had fired at all let alone with such deadly accuracy.

"ForAine," came the devastating reply. "For Aine, and because of what he did to her. I heard it, but I could not believe it, and so I crept into the house while they were all trying to rescue those in the church. I saw what he did to my lass. We were to be wed one day, you see. I loved her."

"Do you think I'd let you marry some damned Catholic wench, a whore's fatherless offspring?" his father, the smithy, Robert Morgan said, pushing forward angrily. "And now look what you've done, you stupid boy! You've killed our leader. You're no son of mine any longer!"

"Sir William was an evil man, Da," Bruce Morgan replied, drawing himself up to his full height now, and they suddenly saw the boy was almost a man. "And do you think I would have let you stop me from marrying Aine? I never cared about her religion, Da. I cared about her!"

"Faugh!" his father snorted. "I'll hang you myself to take the shame of what's been done here off my name."

There was a faintly audible groan at their feet, and Reverend Steen cried out, "Sir William is not dead! He is injured, but alive."

Kieran Devers quietly reached out to touch young Morgan's shoulder while the others were distracted. "Go to the castle, laddie," he said. "I'll not see you hanged. Hurry before they remember you again. Sir William will not be generous in this matter. Go now!" He watched with a faint smile upon his lips as the lad did his bidding.

"Fetch something to use as a stretcher," the duchess of Glenkirk, finally on her feet again, said. "I'll not have this man in my home, but perhaps Reverend Steen you will see the physician is fetched, and you will shelter Sir William until he is fit to travel again." She looked into the mob before her, forcing herself to stand as tall as she might, but the pains wracking her were difficult to ignore. Still, Jasmine reasoned, just a moment more. "Men of Lisnaskea, are there any of you here who saw Bruce Morgan fire the shot that has injured Sir William? If not, for his father's sake keep silent, I beg of you. You will not see the lad again, and by the time Sir William and his family stop to consider who fired the shot, Bruce Morgan will be long gone from Ulster. He is but a boy, and he loved a young girl who was foully abused and then murdered by Sir William. You know in your hearts what he did to Aine Fitzgerald was an evil iniquity, and a sin as well. Do not compound his sin or the lad's with one of your own. Now go back to Lisnaskea. I will not permit you to wreak havoc in Maguire's Ford." She stood glaring at them until the men had the good grace to turn slowly about, and start making their way home, their torches lighting the darkened road before them as they went. Jasmine Leslie gasped loudly, and fell to her knees. "Yer bairn will be early, Jemmie," she said through gritted teeth.

"Mama!" Fortune ran to her mother's side.

James Leslie didn't bother to wait for help. Pushing his stepdaughter aside, he lifted his wife up in his arms and carried her through the village, across the drawbridge, and into the castle.

Seeing him enter the hall old Biddy called out, "Have you a birthing table, my lord?"

Rohana came running. "I will take care of my lady," she said. "I have been doing it since she was born."

"Let Biddy care for the bairn after it is born," Jasmine said so the old woman would not be offended by Rohana. "And she can help you now too, for she has had the experience." Then she groaned. "This child will wait for no one now it has decided to be born! It will not be like you, my Fortune, taking forever, and then having to be turned about so you could come properly. Ahhh! I can feel the child's head! It is coming now!"

James Leslie knew just what to do. He deposited his wife on the high board, and braced her shoulders so the other women might aid her. There was absolutely no time for niceties. Jasmine groaned with her labor. She had never had so quick a birthing, but she could quite distinctly feel the child's head pushing down. "Rohana?"

Her serving woman pushed Jasmine's skirts up, and peered between her mistress's legs. "You're correct, my lady, the head is coming. Push with the next pain. Ohh! 'Tis almost here. Gracious, I have never seen a baby born this quickly, my princess. Ohh!" Rohana caught the infant as it slid easily from its mother's body. The child began to howl almost immediately, waving its small arms protestingly at having been pushed so rudely from its dark and warm safe haven.

"What is it?" Jasmine demanded.

" 'Tis a lass!" James Leslie crowed, delighted. " 'Tis a fine, hot-tempered wee lassie!"

"Well, Jemmie, you wanted another daughter to spoil, and damn me if you haven't gone and gotten your way," his wife said with a chuckle.

Fortune had stood staring at her mother's very brief travail, and had actually seen her new half-sister born. She was fascinated, and asked her mother, "Do they all come so quickly, Mama?"

Jasmine laughed weakly. "Nay, poppet, they do not all come so swiftly. 'Twas my fall earlier, I believe, that brought my early labor on, although from the sound of her this child is strong."

"A fine lass," Biddy said, handing the cleaned and swaddled baby into her mother's arms. "A Samhein lassie!"

"What are we to call her?" James Leslie asked his wife.

Jasmine considered a long moment, and then she said, "Autumn, because she was born to me in the autumn of my life, in the autumn of the year." Then she saw the bowl of late roses on the sideboard. "Autumn Rose Leslie," Jasmine decided. "Our daughter's name will be Autumn Rose."

ENGLAND AND MARY’S LAND
1632-1635

Sir William Devers survived his wound, but he would never walk again. As soon as it was feasible he was moved from the Reverend Samuel Steen's house in Maguire's Ford back to Lisnaskea. He was only in his mid-twenties, and as he lay in his bed, or sat in the chair that had been fashioned for him, he grew angrier and angrier. He wanted to hold the Catholics responsible for his infirmity, but they had not shot at him. He had been shot from behind, and the Catholics of Maguire's Ford had been facing him. Still, Sir William Devers reasoned, if they had not been at Maguire's Ford then neither would he have been there, and he would not be the invalid he was now. Who had shot him he did not know, nor did anyone else seem to know.

And so he did hold the Catholics answerable for his helpless state, and encouraged by his wife and mother, plotted a revenge he would never be able to carry out against the Catholics in general, against his half-brother, Kieran, and against Fortune, for he reasoned, had she never come to Ulster, none of this would have ever happened. It was all their fault.

No one came to visit Sir William and his family. The servants gave notice but for a few. He was condemned, it seemed, to spend the rest of his days at Mallow Court with only his mother and his wife for civilized company. Sir William Devers took to drinking anything that would free him from his pain and his boredom.

At Maguire's Ford Autumn Leslie, born on All Hallows' Eve, the Samhein celebration of the ancient Celtic races, thrived. Jasmine knew instinctively that this was absolutely her last baby, and so she nursed her daughter devotedly, declining a wetnurse. Fortune adored the baby, and spent much of her time with Autumn and their mother.

"She is so sweet," Fortune sighed. "I should so like a little girl like her… one day. I know this is not the right time, Mama."

"If Kieran goes alone to the New World," Jasmine suggested, "perhaps you should be with child then. That way I could be with you when the child was born. Then when it is safe for you to join your husband, the baby will be old enough to travel with you, but wait until we return to England before you make that decision."

Fortune sighed again. She wanted a normal life like her mother and her sister, India, had. A home, a husband, babies, and peace. Why could she not have these things? But she knew the answer to her own unspoken questions. She had married a man whose faith was not acceptable. They would have to make a new life in a place where his faith and hers were acceptable. But when? Why must it all take so long? She cuddled her baby sister closely, marveling that everything about Autumn was so perfect. Her dark hair with its faint auburn tints, her eyes which were beginning to hold distinct glints of green even at two months of age when she was baptized by the Reverend Samuel Steen, her half-sister, and brother, Adam, standing as her godparents.