Episode 1
Thomond, Ireland, 961 AD
Concern needled Tiarnán as he walked the cattle pasture in search of their missing cow. Her calf was due any day. She’d not come to feed with the others in his care. If anything happened to her, ’twould be his hide at stake.
Damp grass enveloped his woolen wrapped legs as he stamped the numbness from his feet. Weaving through the dense copse in the hills above their cottage, he tried to peer through the trees for any sign. This would be her first calf. First-time deliverers were prone to difficulty. ’Twas bad enough, the losses the herds suffered through the winter months. Now this?
“Do you hear her bell?” Gideon mac Davan called.
Tiarnán glanced over his shoulder. “Nothing, my lord.” It chafed him to bow and scrape to Lord Davan’s sons on the best of days. Sharing herdsman duties with Gideon, Davan’s third born, demanded care to demonstrate the submission befitting a tenant. A burden on Tiarnán’s every task.
“Dusk’s upon us. If she’s down with her calf, we may not see her.” Gideon’s breath puffed in the chill air as he waved a hand to the growing shadows.
Tiarnán pressed on at a quicker pace. Gideon matched his stride for a time, but soon surpassed him, being a mite longer in the legs. Yet another irritant. At fifteen, a year Tiarnán’s junior, Gideon stood a good hand span taller. Of course, all Lord Davan’s children were tall, hardy stock. A strong trait that ran through their noble, Dalcassian blood.
Pressing his thoughts to the task, Tiarnán veered toward a clearing in the opposite direction Gideon trod. ’Twas a place just beyond the tree break which the cows favored.
A tuft of dull brown hair caught his eye. His instinct proved right.
“Here, my lord!” Tiarnán hastened to the clearing. He came up short.
The cow’s head rose, straining over her shoulder long enough to glimpse him. She snorted and dug her forelegs under her, struggling to rise. Her hind legs, it seemed, wouldn’t obey. The calf’s hooves protruded out her rump, hocks presented upward.
She drug herself only a hand-length from the spot where she originally lay. Her hind legs skidded useless through the muck left from the birth fluids. A feeble bellow punctuated her defeat and she succumbed to the earth once more.
Gideon cursed behind him. “The calf is breech.” In a flurry of activity he unlashed a rope from his belt and moved toward the calf’s exposed hocks. Crooning to the cow in a low, calming voice, he edged in and began binding the calf’s hooves.
Impulse goaded Tiarnán to chastise the young noble for encroaching on the cow so suddenly. He suppressed the desire. Nothing would be gained by forgetting his station and risking his overlord’s ire. All that aside, Gideon spent just as much time with the herds, if not more so than Tiarnán.
Gideon’s efforts were rewarded with little objection from the cow, her energies obviously spent. Soon each tail-end of the rope was fastened to a hoof, and Gideon had a serviceable loop grip.
“We’ll need to pull down and out.” Gideon nodded toward the loop. “Firm and steady with the contraction.”
Tiarnán bent to the task. Once the young cow began to push, he fastened his grip with Gideon’s and hauled back on the rope.
The cow’s bellow pierced the air.
“Keep tension.” Gideon commanded.
Hands whitened on the rope, Tiarnán dug a heel into the ground for leverage. At the next contraction they bore down harder. The calf’s body budged only slightly from the pelvis, its buttocks still blocking the rest from coming loose.
Knees sliding in the mire, Tiarnán groped the ground with his legs. He gained little traction.
Gideon strained beside him, one foot planted firmly on a rock.
The cow’s cries punctured Tiarnán’s focus. Tension ensnared his shoulders. Each pull felt as futile as the last.
“Your hands are smaller than mine.” Gideon grunted at the next pull. “I’ll keep pulling. Try to work it out.”
Urgency left no time for argument. Tiarnán relinquished his hold and moved to the calf’s partially protruding flanks.
The cow grunted.
He patted her hind quarter. “There, lass. ’Twill be done soon.” Settling into place, he worked fingers beneath the unrelenting flesh gripping the calf. The slick fur offered some movement, but only slight.
A contraction seized her and Gideon bore down.
Tiarnán worked furiously, stretching at the skin round the calf. After a time its hips freed. Relief flooded warmth to Tiarnán’s face despite the cold. He rejoined Gideon at the rope to finish their task.
Once the calf struck ground, all tension fled…and hope vanished.
The calf lay dead.
© M.N. Stroh 2018. All Rights Reserved.
Poor cows. 🙁 You really had me into the story! In fact, I was on my way to doing something else, but when I saw Episode 2 in my inbox I realized I’d somehow missed reading Episode 1! So then of course I HAD to stop what I was doing to read them. I love these characters. 🙂 I love stories that grab me and take me for a ride! Thank you, Melissa!
Thank you so much, Pearl! I’m glad you love the stories and characters so much. Writing these serial dramas is such a new venture for me. So it’s good to hear that they’re resonating.
Melissa, I’m so happy to read Episode 1, though saddened by the ending. I’m ready for the next instalment!
So glad you liked it, Charity! It was a sad end, but there’s hope, and a little more adventure on the horizon.
Short, powerful, emotional.
Love it.
That’s an awesome review, Norma! Thank you!