Back From Chaos

by Yvonne Hertzberger

  While breech births often ended happily, it was not ideal for a first-born.

  When she expressed this concern to Marja, Gaelen became apprehensive. Liethis had foretold a healthy son and that Marja would survive. But Gaelen knew that such things sometimes changed, so he sent for Liethis to ask her advice. Too much hung on this birth to leave things to chance. If something still remained unresolved it needed to be taken care of now.

  When the escort came for Liethis she met him waiting at her door, her horse already saddled and her bag strapped on. As usual, she wore the traditional, unbleached white of a seer, this time in warm wools for winter. Since the weather remained dry, the oiled skins that would keep out the wind and rain remained in her bag.

  A guard informed Gaelen as soon as Liethis arrived, and he made his way hurriedly to his chambers. She would come as soon as she had brought her bags to her room, the guard told him. They reached the chambers at the same time.

  At Liethis’ suggestion, Marja sent Brensa to fetch Lotha as well, though Liethis reassured them that this was only to keep her completely informed. While the two waited for the others to return, Marja had tea and a cold meal brought. The women engaged in general talk around Marja’s state of discomfort and the preparations of the nursery for the new heir.

  “I have already chosen a wet nurse,” Marja said, “against the event that I may be unable to nurse the child myself, though I dearly wish to.”

  They all tacitly agreed to avoid the true purpose of Liethis’ presence until the others had arrived and been served tea. Brensa and Nellis rounded out the party.

  While custom dictated that men should not be present on such occasions, no one ventured to suggest that Gaelen did not belong in this discussion. He took his customary chair as naturally as though this were a casual social visit.

  As soon as everyone had taken their places, Liethis cleared her throat slightly to get their attention. Then, as was her wont, she got right to the point. “My Lord Gaelen, Lady Marja, friends. You wish to know what I see with regard to the birth of the coming heir. My vision has not changed. I still sense that Lady Marja will deliver a strong, healthy son and that she will survive the birth.”

  She smiled her understanding when a series of shoulders relaxed and held breaths released. Then she grew serious again. “But the birth will not be an easy one. My lady, you must rest until then to conserve your strength. Your labour will be long and strenuous.”

  Liethis looked at Lotha. “I know that the child is breech. You will need all your skill to bring him forth. Do not wander far. Once the birth starts you will be needed.”

  She turned to Marja. “I am pleased that you have a wet nurse at hand. For the first days you will have little strength to feed the child, though I believe this will be temporary, for I have seen him at your breast.”

  Everyone gasped, as Liethis suddenly froze, then glared at Lotha with eyes that held an eerie power.

  “You must not pull at the child. He will find his own time. Do not let fear make you haste.”

  The trance left her and she found herself facing a group whose expressions bore signs of shock. Trembling with weakness, she sank back into her chair.

  Liethis looked around at each in turn before speaking again, resting her gaze on Marja.

  “The danger that has been shown me is not to the son you bear, my lady, but to yourself. I suddenly saw much blood and it blinded my vision.” Turning once more to Lotha, she reiterated her warning. “Heed this, Lotha. I do not know why, but it is most important. Do not pull the child forth.”

  Lotha looked as though she had been struck.

  Liethis sensed her thoughts and added, “Lotha, I know that you have helped babes and mothers when they have been breech. You know your skills well. This time is different. Do not forget.”

  Not until Lotha nodded obedience, did Liethis let go her gaze.

  The chamber remained in stunned silence for several moments, until Gaelen found his voice. “Lotha, have you all you need? Will you require anyone with you aside from Nellis and Brensa, now that you have heard Liethis’ words?” His worry showed clearly, in spite of his firm voice and his attempt to appear normal. This warning had not been what he had expected, and it had shaken him.

  “No, my lord, but I will make sure I have more than the usual herbs and that the kitchen is made ready with hot water and linens.” Lotha’s face had gone chalk white, and her voice shook. She gripped the seat of her chair tightly.

  Bone weary, as such sendings always left her, Liethis excused herself and left to rest in her room, assuring Gaelen that she would not leave the city until they had spoken again.

  ~101~

  AN HEIR

  Lotha took up residence in the room set aside for the nursery and slept on the bed prepared for the wet nurse, who agreed to give it up and sleep on a temporary cot, pending the birth. She busied herself with gathering more herbals and teas, with making sure the kitchen had their instructions and with keeping a close eye on Marja. In between she took time to answer questions, when her apprentice came for advice.

  Two days later, on the night of winter solstice, Gaelen found himself wakened by Marja shaking him. Marja had been fitful, so his sleep had already been broken several times.

  He heard Marja say, “My waters have broken. Get Lotha.”

  Marja seemed so calm that it took a moment for this to penetrate his still groggy mind. With a start, he realized the birth had begun. Suddenly completely alert, Gaelen vaulted out of bed and ran to fetch Lotha.

  The hubbub brought Brensa and Nellis out as well, and the three women banded together to firmly shoo Gaelen out of the room and bar the door. This was women’s work. Men had no place here.

  Gaelen had never felt so helpless. He went to the kitchen for some tea and food, but found himself too tense to eat. His pacing put him in the way of the early bakers and wore out his welcome there as well. They made it plain that he was keeping them from their duties. At first, he thought he might go for a ride, but it struck him that something might happen, and Marja might need him. He could not leave the castle. Without knowing how he got there, he found himself pacing the halls outside their chambers, where Marja laboured to deliver their son. If the floor had not been made of stone, he would surely have worn a path into it.

  For several spans, until well past dawn, he heard nothing but murmurs through the door. This lulled him enough that he realized how hungry he was, and he returned to the kitchen, this time able to eat … and to stay out of the way. He watched as servants took platters of food and kettles of hot water to the birthing room. Everyone seemed calm and efficient … so why could he not be? He shook his head in exasperation and returned to his vigil outside the chamber, finally falling into the chair that stood in the hall.

  * * *

  Behind the barred door, which opened only to admit food and supplies, an atmosphere of expectant calm reigned. Lotha gave quiet orders to Brensa and Nellis from time to time, but those two mostly sat with their needlework and kept up a stream of small talk to distract Marja. Lotha urged Marja to drink quantities of raspberry leaf tea to strengthen her womb. She kept track of Marja’s spasms and determined that things were proceeding normally. The hard work looked yet some time away.

  In between sitting to drink her tea and taking small amounts of bread and honey for strength, Lotha had Marja walk about the room, explaining that it would help the babe descend. When Marja began to gasp and hold herself rigid as the pain of her contractions increased, Lotha stroked her belly and soothingly murmured instructions, helping her relax her breathing. She told her not to clench her teeth, as that made the contractions somehow more painful.

  Lotha had arranged the birthing stool on a low platform, to raise it up and make it easier for her to help the babe out. Normally this would not be necessary, but with the child in breech position, she wanted the best angle possible. Her own low stool sat ready in front of it.

  By late afternoon, nerves bega
n to fray. When Nellis’ son began to scream for his mother through the nursery door, Lotha ordered her to have the nurse take the child out of earshot until they were finished. Mother and child had never been apart for more than a few spans, so this arrangement pleased neither. Nellis fought back tears as Borless’ howling faded down the hall.

  When Marja’s pains came closer together and she could no longer hide her agitation, Lotha added camomile to the tea to calm her. She ordered Brensa and Nellis to drink it, too. Their worry could no longer be masked with idle chatter, and Lotha needed them calm, in case she needed help.

  As dusk fell, Lotha could tell that Marja had retreated into herself, and that her pains came one upon the other with little rest in between. She had her lie on the bed to check her progress and found her fully opened. Now the hard work would begin. No more teas or food, except, perhaps, a spoonful of honey now and then to keep up her strength. She kept her hands on Marja’s belly for the next few spasms, and when she could feel that Marja had begun to push, helped her to the birthing stool. Her shift was lifted above her belly to give Lotha a clear view.

  With only candles and firelight illuminating the room, amid grunts of effort, two tiny feet peeked out between Marja’s thighs. Now came the crucial period, and Lotha began to sweat in spite of her long years of experience.

  Liethis’ words rang in her ears. “Do not pull on the babe!” But long practice in calming women through births helped her keep up the soothing words and touches that hid her anxiety from the others. Soon the legs were through and the body began to emerge. Lotha hoped that one arm and shoulder would appear before the other. That hope proved in vain. Marja continued to push with all her strength, but for several moments, no progress could be seen. Lotha told Marja to try to hold back through the next spasm. Then she gently inserted two fingers into the canal to check the position of the child. She found what she expected. Both arms were overhead beside the babe’s ears. Instructing Marja to hold off once more, she tried to ease one arm down so that the first shoulder could pass. It took two tries before she succeeded. As the elbow slid down Marja screamed, and Lotha felt her tear.

  Gaelen heard the scream and pounded on the door to let him in. Brensa had already risen halfway out of her seat to obey, but at a shake of the head from Lotha, she reluctantly lowered herself back down. Lotha turned her attention resolutely back to Marja. The pounding stopped. Gaelen had given up.

  Lotha knew time was important now. Marja needed to push the babe out so the damage could be checked and the bleeding staunched. And the cord needed to be loosened around the child’s neck. When the only part remaining to emerge was the babe’s head, Lotha would normally have pulled at the same time that Marja pushed. It was all she could do to hold back. She must not disobey Liethis’ warning.

  Marja had grown very weak by now and she had not much strength left with which to push. Yet the head was the largest part, and she would need to find enough strength to finish her work. So Lotha had Brensa and Nellis each take one arm, and coached them to shout at Marja to push as each new pain came on. Lotha told Marja to yell or scream if she felt the urge, knowing that this helped the canal to relax. All this noise was intended to encourage Marja to forget about Gaelen and decorum. Now Marja was any woman, not a lady.

  The chamber seemed suspended in time. After several more pushes, amid loud urging from Nellis and Brensa, Marja gave a final, rending scream, and the babe slipped into Lotha’s waiting hands.

  A quick check told Lotha that the boy looked strong and healthy. His breathing became regular, and he grasped her finger when she placed it in his hand. She tied off the cord, cut it, held the boy up for an anxious Marja to see, and handed him to Nellis to bathe and wrap. As soon as the afterbirth slipped out, she had Brensa help her get Marja back to the bed, where she carefully examined her womb. The tearing did not appear as bad as she had feared and would heal in time.

  When she found Marja bleeding more heavily than she ought, she told an astonished Brensa to fetch the wet nurse’s babe. As soon as the infant was brought in, she put him to Marja’s breast, where he began to suck lustily.

  At the same time, Lotha kneaded Marja’s belly. As she did so, she explained that these things often helped to slow down bleeding from the womb. She did not know why, just that this was so. When the bleeding finally slowed, she turned her attention to the tearing. Satisfied that her initial assessment had been correct, she rummaged in her basket for a salve of honey mixed with goldenseal, which she lathered liberally onto the tear and around the opening to the womb.

  Now all she could do was hope the fever that took so many new mothers’ lives would not set in. She wanted to brew some willow bark tea, for pain and fever, but decided against it, as it sometimes increased bleeding. Instead she contented herself with more raspberry leaf and camomile.

  As soon as Nellis and Brensa had Marja bathed and resting as comfortably as possible, Lotha unbarred and opened the door, and Nellis presented Gaelen with his son.

  Gaelen stood in the doorway a moment, wearing the bewildered expression Lotha had seen many times on the faces of new fathers. She stood aside as he hesitantly accepted his son from Nellis’ arms. He hurried over to Marja’s side, where she greeted him with a wan smile. He sat on the edge of the bed, a worried look still in his eyes, as he questioned her silently.

  We are both well, my love,” Marja assured him. She asked him to lay their son beside her so they could examine him together. “He is perfect, is he not? I think he has your chin.”

  Gaelen nodded with obvious relief. “Yes. But he has your hair, I think, and my mother’s nose.”

  The exchange made Lotha laugh. She had seen this so many times. “You will see new resemblances each day,” she chuckled. “Now then, when you have taken a few moments together, I must ask you to leave again Lord Gaelen. Lady Marja needs rest. Her labour has been difficult, and she has lost a good deal of blood. If her milk is to come in, she needs to build her strength back up.”

  She paused a moment, then added, “And I need some time with Lady Marja to help the babe take the breast. Sometimes both mother and child need a little help with this.” She beamed again. “Soon you may wish you were not so near, when the child demands to be fed in the night.” Then, as an afterthought, she agreed, “But he is indeed a beautiful lad, strong and healthy. Please allow me to be the first to congratulate you both on a new heir, my lord, my lady.”

  Before Gaelen stood to leave, he placed a tender kiss on Marja’s forehead. Then, rising, he turned to the group and announced, “His name is Lionn, after my brother, who never had the opportunity to sire an heir.” With a last proud though still worried glance at Marja, he left.

  ~102~

  A NEW HOME

  Klast and Brensa moved into the cottage shortly after the first strong spring thaw. Snow had all but disappeared, remaining in dirty patches only on the north sides of hills and at the bottoms of trees in the copses. Crofters checked fields almost daily, eager to start spring seeding and planting. Brensa was no less eager to begin working in her garden.

  Throughout the winter, Klast had still managed to make several visits to the cabin to complete repairs. He had built a platform which would serve as their bed, made a rough table, and bought two stools to sit on. An old wooden chair with arms and a back had been left behind in the cottage when the previous inhabitants had abandoned it.

  As a special gift to Brensa, Klast commissioned a rocker with a low seat and no arms, the type women sat in to knit, do needle work, and nurse infants. Together they had chosen a large cauldron for boiling water for baths and laundry, two smaller kettles for cooking and other items necessary to set up a home.

  Marja had given Brensa a large wooden chest as soon as Brensa had announced that she and Klast wished to join.

  Actually Brensa had requested leave from Marja to do so. Maids belonged to their ladies and were not free to make such decisions on their own.

  Brensa had told Klast that Ma
rja had been delighted at the news and had hugged her tightly across her bulging belly. But she had not been able to hide her relief when Brensa had told her the move would not take place until spring and that she would remain for the birth of the babe. Neither had known, at the time, that Nellis would soon join them.

  Klast and Marja had learned a grudging respect for each other. He felt relieved that their conflict would no longer stand in the way of Brensa’s friendship with Marja.

  As a joining gift, Marja had filled the chest with a featherbed, down pillows, several linen sheets, and two warm, colourful quilts. She also included some fine crockery and bronze plates, good quality knives and spoons, and several wooden spoons and bowls. Brensa’s kitchen would be well stocked. Now she only needed to learn how to use all these items. The very idea made Marja and Nellis roll their eyes at her whenever Brensa mentioned cooking. She took the ribbing with good humour.

  Gaelen gifted the couple with a milk cow. Nellis and Mikost gave the pair nine laying hens and one proprietary rooster. These also induced their share of jokes about cooking and animal husbandry. With the addition of their two horses, the shed would be full, indeed, come winter.

  As the first thaws of spring uncovered them, Klast showed Brensa how to recognize and collect new cress by the edge of the ponds and river banks. He taught her how to find the early fiddlehead greens, so prized after a winter without fresh vegetables. As summer progressed he would teach her where to find wild leeks, onions and garlic. Mushrooms would remain Klast’s duty.

  “It would not do for us to die from a poisoned stew.” He gave Brensa a wry grin, as she caught the joke and laughed with him.

  For the first ten days they spent together, Klast made no attempt to bed her. Instead, he put his efforts into helping her relax enough to fall asleep with her head on his shoulder; stroking her hair, kissing her face, head and neck, and gradually caressing her in more intimate places.

  By the end of that period, Brensa began responding by reaching up to stroke his face, resting her arm across his chest, and squeezing him back when he hugged her. He did his best to make sure she never felt his arousal.