Elfleda and Gunnilda help at the Ashdowns'

One bitterly cold December night, Ethelmund Ashdown found himself busier than usual. Githa had been feeling ill, she said, so she had gone to bed immediately after dinner. Her little face seemed whiter than usual, but she begged him not to worry.

He hadn’t time to worry, anyway. If he tried to calm the fussy Kyneburga, then Colburga would sit and cry. If he tried to play with Colburga, then Kyneburga would wail.

He didn’t know how Githa managed it during the day when he was out working on the farm.

He was afraid the babies were disturbing her, but she lay very quietly in bed, her lips pressed tightly together and her brow furrowed.

“Are you feeling all right?” he finally asked her, beginning to worry. Githa was going to have a baby soon, but she had assured him it would not be before the new year.

Without opening her eyes, she said, “Take the girls to the Hogge farm, and then tell Gunnilda to come. Tell her I need her. And don’t you come back, you just stay there with the girls.”

Ethelmund was frightened. There was only one reason why Githa would send for Gunnilda Hogge in the middle of a cold December night—and on the previous occasions she had never asked him to keep himself away.

Without a word he quickly dressed Colburga and Kynnie and headed for the door. At the sill he paused, and then turned in again. “Kiss your mother, girls,” he said, depositing them awkwardly on the pillow next to Githa. Colburga planted a sloppy kiss on her mother’s pale cheek, but Kyneburga started to cry.

“Go,” Githa said weakly.

Afraid that he had disturbed her further, he swept up the girls and headed out the door. All the way to the Hogge farm he repeated to himself, “I forgot to kiss her goodbye, I forgot to kiss her goodbye,” in time with his hurried steps.

Half an hour later Gunnilda bustled into the Ashdown home. She had stopped at the Wodehead farm and brought Elfleda along: Elfleda’s mother had long served as midwife in the peasant huts of Thorhold, and Gunnilda hoped that she might have shared some of her wisdom with her daughter. She thought that they might need it that night.

Githa was not pleased when she opened her eyes to see Elfleda in the room. Elfleda was great for gossip, but hadn’t the most reassuring presence in a time of trouble, especially where babies were involved. Then again, Elfleda seemed to have softened since she had a baby of her own.

As it happened, it took the combined wisdom of both Elfleda and Gunnilda to help Githa through that night. But just before dawn a little son was born to her, very tiny but very much alert.

“A son!” Githa breathed. “Ethelmund will be so happy! Oh, but—Elfleda, will he live? He’s so small…”

Elfleda said nothing. Gunnilda, surprised at her, said, “Why, of course he’ll live! I think you just counted your time wrong. Look at how wide awake and squirmy he is! Won’t he be fine, Elfleda?”

But Elfleda, smiling faintly at the baby, did not answer.