Cry of the Newborn Read Free

Hesther was seen. The young tumblers and jugglers scattered away from her and back into the crowd.
    She breathed deep to calm herself, smoothing the front of her simple sleeveless blue dress and adjusting the cinch at her waist. She arranged the long auburn curls on her head and surveyed the townsfolk, all of whom had waited all day just to hear her words. She felt the weight of her sixty-five years then, the expectations that she carried on everyone's behalf and what success would bring.
    All anyone here wanted was a life free of change and the pressure for change. Yet what she was about to announce would signal change of a most fundamental nature. In all their faces she saw expectation. In those not touched by the strands, she saw excitement and naivety too. A craving for the news she brought and no notion that it would affect their lives so deeply should the newborn grow into their potential.
    She felt no guilt, only exhilaration. Because every face told of a spirit that would stand with them forever. The hush was unbearable. She was compelled to speak.
    'My friends. They are born and they are well.'
    The roar all but knocked her from her feet.
    Ardol Kessian rested his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. He shifted his backside against the hard bench, grunting at the discomfort. Someone really should have fetched him a cushion by now. Night was full. The stars spread to the horizon in every direction. The air was clear and still warm. There would be no rain for seven days though the scattered cloud in a couple of days would keep them a little cooler.
    In front of him, the floor of the forum was awash with people, faces bright in the fire and lantern light. On the oratory, the band roused weary dancers again with another old favourite. Hand drum and tympani beat the rhythm, kithara and pipes provided the melody and a strong voice guided the moves.
    It was a long time since he had dared take to the centre of the forum to dance. He missed it. The energy and the joy, the close touch of a woman, and the scent of her in the spin. Her eyes on him as they stepped and turned. Now he contented himself with watching the younger generations make all the same mistakes he had made in his youth. A long time ago now. He glanced to his right and laid his hand on Genna's.
    'Remember how we met on the floor?'
    'Yes, Ardol,' said Genna, resignation in her tone. 'You ask me every time we watch a dance.'
    'Do I?' Kessian's mouth turned up at the corners. 'I forget.' 'When it suits you.'
    He squeezed Genna's hand. He would go first. Genna was thirty years his junior. They'd been tilling the earth together this last eighty years. He wondered how she would bear up without him. She'd probably be glad of the peace and quiet.
    'Jen did well today,' he said, refusing to slip into melancholy on a night of celebration like this.
    'That she did,' agreed Genna.
    The fresh smells of grilling fish mixed with woodsmoke, roasting meats and the yeasty odour of spilt ale. Jen had found seabass and sardines. The nets had bulged and there would be plenty on the market when the hangovers had cleared the next morning.
    'Do you mind if I interrupt you?'
    Kessian looked up and across the table. There stood Arvan Vasselis, Marshal Defender of Caraduk. He had ridden in with his wife and young son late in the afternoon, having received the message five days previously that the births were imminent. His flag, deep blue, trimmed with gold and displaying rearing twin bears, flew above his residence which commanded peerless views of bay and harbour.
    'Impeccable timing as always,' said Kessian, making to rise. Vasselis gestured him not to.
    'Never known to miss a Westfallen party. I even brought some wine with me.' Vasselis placed two ornately carved ceramic jugs of something no doubt old and expensive on the table. 'Mind if I sit down?'
    'You hardly have to ask,' said Kessian.
    'Rank is no excuse for rudeness,' Vasselis said, dragging the opposite bench back a