Part 9 (1/2)

This caused a flurry of motion and fast feminine conversation.

”Oh, my G.o.d! Is it dead?”

”No. No! The heart beats! When did it last eat?”

”This morning at the latest,” I said.

”What happened to the mother?”

”Dead,” I said.

”Who, then?” She looked at the others.

”Mrs. Malinski just lost hers!”

”I'll go get her!” One of the women threw on a cloak and ran out. Another carefully took the kid near the fire. ”Diapers! The darling hasn't been changed all day!” She glared at me.

Another of them ran upstairs, presumably after diapers. The two remaining were inspecting the baby. We mere males were forgotten. I could see that the kid was 'in good hands.

I tried to remove my outer clothes, but my chain mail was frozen to my windbreaker. Distracted by my efforts, one of the women turned. ”Oh! You men must be frozen. Come, sit by the fire.” In seconds, we were handed huge mugs of wine heated with pokers glowing from the fire. We drained them. Our mugs were refilled as the diapers arrived. Soon the three women were cl.u.s.tered around the kitchen table, with the baby in the middle. They were rubbing and scrubbing and making silly noises. It made me wish I were a month old.

”I never thought we'd make it here alive,” I told them, ”so just to be safe, I baptized him. I named him Ignacy.”

Conversation stopped dead. All three of them stared at me as if I were a heretic.

”What a terrible thing to do!” the tall blonde said.

”What do you mean terrible? If he died without baptism, he'd go to limbo,” I said.

”Limbo? You mean h.e.l.l.”

”So why are you mad? I saved him.”

”No, silly, the name!”

”I named him for a good friend. A holy father. A Franciscan. Ignacy is a fine name!”

”For a girl?” This from the redhead.

”Oh. ” I'd cursed the poor thing with a name she'd hate for the rest of her life. Boris was giggling but didn't want to get involved. ”Don't you know the difference?” the tall blonde asked.

”d.a.m.n it, woman, of course I know the difference! What? You think I should have taken her clothes off in that storm just to see what flavor she was? You wanted maybe a properly named corpse?”

They were silent for a minute, and then the fourth woman came back with a buxom, motherly type. The kid was fed on the spot.

By then, the ice on my armor had melted enough for me to peel the mail off my windbreaker. I hung it up to dry. Boris did the same. Then I stripped down to my long underwear. If they could nurse a baby, I could get dry. I confess I was annoyed.

Mrs. Malinski left with the kid, and the four young ones whispered to each other.

Then the tall blonde came over and formally apologized for ignoring us and being a bad hostess.

Introductions were made. The tall blonde was Krystyana, and the others were Ilona, Janina, and Natalia.

The count was asleep and not to be disturbed.

Soon things were okay; the rift with our hostesses was smoothed over. The table was washed, and a cloth was spread. Food was put out, and our mugs were refilled. I said grace, and we ate.

I'd forgotten about my wounded arm. Rather than strip in a snowstorm, I'd patched it up through the hole ripped in my clothes and armor. But the blood had soaked my long underwear to the wrist.

Krystyana insisted on tending it while I ate. I probably should have refused and done it myself with my first-aid kit, but the food and wine and feminine companions.h.i.+p were working on me. In the course of that meal they got every b.l.o.o.d.y detail of the trip out of Boris, who delighted in blow-by- blow accounts.

Later we were escorted to separate rooms. If Boris didn't worry about his property, then neither would 1. 1 stripped down to shorts, T-s.h.i.+rt, and socks and eased my battered body between the clean sheets of a huge bed. It was comfortable enough and covered with an enormously thick feather blanket. I blew out the oil lamp. It was Christmas Eve, and the bed was a marvelous present.

I was dozing off when I heard the door open.

Krystyana came in.

”That was a beautiful thing you did, Sir Conrad, saving that little girl.” She stripped off her single garment and slid into bed beside me. ”We'll just have to think up a good nickname for her.”

Chapter Ten

Late the next morning, I was lying on my back and Krystyana was lying on my stomach with her elbows on my shoulders.

She was intently studying my T-s.h.i.+rt. The night before, things had been urgent and necessary, and I was in too much of a hurry at first and too tired afterward to remove my unders.h.i.+rt. Actually, I was still wearing my socks. The morning had been one of calm and wondrous delight, and I hadn't felt the need to change anything.

I couldn't honestly call Krystyana beautiful, but she was certainly pretty. She had lovely long blond hair that was draped over my shoulders. It went well with her light blue eyes and blond, almost unnoticeable eyebrows and lashes. Her nose was perhaps a little too long, her mouth was too wide, and her teeth were not good, but there was nothing ugly about her. I mentioned that she was tall, but only in comparison to the others. Now her head was at shoulder level and her stretched out toes brushed my s.h.i.+ns. Her body was slender and most acceptable. She looked younger than I had thought last night. Perhaps she was sixteen. I found out later that she was fourteen, the usual age of marriage among the people of Okoitz.

”Sir Conrad, this is the most amazing knot work! Do you know how it's made?” She was staring at my knitted cotton T-s.h.i.+rt. Knot work? I studied it, too. Yes, I suppose you could call those knots.

And once you thought of them as being hand tied knots, yes, it was amazing.

”I've never thought about it. I suppose I could figure it out.”

”I wish you would. I'd love to do something like this. It's fantastic!”

”You really like my s.h.i.+rt?”

”Oh, yes! Last night I was awfully impressed with that sweater thing you wore, but this is unbelievable. Everything is so tiny”' ”Well, if you want it ' it's yours. Merry Christmas.” ”Whee!

But you mustn't give our Christmas presents now, Sir Conrad. Christmas presents are for this evening. ”

”As you like. This evening, then. For now, why don't you knock off the sir stuff. My friends call me Conrad, or just Con.”

”But that would be most improper, Sir Conrad ! If I hailed you not as a knight but as an ordinary man, why, it would be as though I was sleeping with a man before marriage, and that would be a sin.”

I was confused. ”You aren't married, are you?”