The White Doe

For the next seven hours, Ananias Dare and John White listened to Eleanor Dare's screams, moans and whimpers as she labored to bring forth the first English born child on American soil. They heard the doctor and the midwife's soothing murmurs, but it was little comfort.

Ananias looked awful. "I wish I could be." He muttered as he paced outside the small house.

"Nonesense," Said White. "It isn't proper. The babe will be a fine, healthy son, Ananias. You'll see."

At that precise moment, a lusty wail filled the air. Both men whirled and stared at the door.

Dr. Stevens, wiping blood and other fluids from his hands, opened the door and motioned that they could enter.

White thought his beloved daughter looked like the Madonna with the Christ Child as she sat, propped up on pillows, suckling the babe.

"How is he?" Asked Ananias.

"She is a miracle." Eleanor breathed softly, looking down at the tiny child. "We'll name her Virginia, after our good queen."

White trembled.

A girl.

John Dee's words floated back to him: "My Show Stone has told me that very soon, the Slayer for whom we wait shall be born. Her birthplace is the New World."

And then back to Raleigh's comment: "It could be an English child."

'Dear God,' White half-thought, half-prayed. 'Do I behold the next Slayer?'