Altered Destinies- Earth Reborn

by Yvonne Hertzberger

  Phaera returned to the babe, swaddled him, placed him in Magda’s arms and bent her attention back to the stool. “Now, Bennis, watch carefully.”

  As Phaera moved over to make room for her Bennis hunkered close to see. Magda bent forward with a small grunt and a bloody mass slipped into the bowl waiting under the birthing stool.

  “See Bennis? This is the afterbirth. This is what fed the babe while in your mother’s belly. It is no longer needed so it came out. See how it is attached to the cord you cut? When it comes out we know the birth is finished. But we must always let it take its time. Pulling on the cord to make it come quicker can make a mother bleed to death.” As Phaera spoke she examined the afterbirth carefully.

  “It looks like liver,” Bennis murmured thoughtfully as she bent close to see.

  “Indeed it does. You are a clever girl. Perhaps, one day, you will learn enough to help other mothers when they give birth. You have done well today.”

  Bennis’ eyes grew round and her little mouth mirrored that shape. “Oh, I would like that.”

  Phaera allowed herself an inner sigh of satisfaction. Perhaps this girl would keep that wish and find an opportunity to earn the skills that could help her rise above the poverty that almost certainly awaited her otherwise.

  “Obey your parents and stay strong and brave. How old are you, now?”

  “Six, Milady.”

  “If you still wish to learn to be a midwife you may come to me when you are ten years old. Perhaps I will have a place for you to become my apprentice. Now run and tell your father he has a son and that he may come in and meet him.” She put her arms around Magda and helped her back to the cot.

  While Bennis scampered off Phaera dipped another clean cloth in hot water, quickly began to clean Magda off and cover her with the blanket. “You have a fine son, Magda. Jordie has his wish. But Bennis is a brave and clever girl. I am in earnest in my offer to her. Please do not discourage her in this.”

  “Thank you, Milady. I shall let Jordie know. He will be proud of her as well.”

  Jordie strode in, followed closely by the proud Bennis.

  Chapter Four

  DREAM

  Bain returned to the castle with wild hope in his heart. She had asked him to return. Could she actually see something of interest in him? Or was she only interested in his mother and her healing knowledge? And if so, could he somehow parlay that into more contact, more time to kindle a greater interest? He hurried to the barracks to dress for the midday meal. When he emerged he spied Kort making his way to the great hall.

  “Where have you been?” Kort had spotted Bain as well and turned to join him.

  Bain almost blurted out his good luck but at the last moment stopped himself. It would not do to allow rumours to start. That would put an end to any hope he had of impressing Phaera.

  “Just getting the lay of the land. I needed some quiet time. It has been a challenge to learn all the names and faces of the guests.”

  “You missed breaking the fast. And your name came up in conversation, much of it questioning your right to be here. Disappearing does nothing to change that impression.” Kort raised one eyebrow at him and shook his head in disapproval.

  Bain sighed. “You are right, of course. Thank you. I suspect you risk censure for you friendly overtures to me.”

  “Oh, I am not so much in demand that it matters. As third son I have no influence. Besides, I have no interest in finding a bride. I have little to offer one in any case.” The rueful snort indicated that his low status was a source of relief rather than disappointment. “In any case, I enjoy my freedom.”

  Bain gave him a conspiratorial wink. “So, you are here to spy on the rest of us, then.”

  Kort sketched him a mocking bow. “At your service, milord. What will you offer me for such services?”

  “My undying gratitude, sir, as I have no coin to spread about.”

  “A fine bargain. I pledge my service to you. At least until a better offer comes.”

  Their joint laughter brought several heads up as they wended their way to the tables where the maids had kept ale and wine flowing and platters of food replenished. Their host spared no expense.

  In a loud voice, with his two companions egging him on, one young lordling jeered, “Please, share the jest, gentlemen. What do you find so amusing?”

  The hall went silent as many heads swivelled in their direction.

  Kort, perhaps emboldened by having already been into his cups, swept a goblet from the nearest table and waved it high. “A true gentleman never betrays his source. Some things must remain secret.”

  Bain, knowing he would have had nothing clever to say, decided he owed Kort a debt of gratitude. He also suspected the show had been a feint and that Kort was not nearly as tipsy as he let on. He made himself a promise to court this friendship. It could prove very useful.

  Bain forced a laugh as he drew Kort’s attention to the food tables. “Time to fortify ourselves.”

  To his great relief the three lads made no attempt to press the confrontation and no one else took it up. Making sure they would not be overheard he leaned towards Kort. “You saved my back there. Thank you, friend.”

  Kort just grinned and reached for a platter.

  Bain spent the rest of the day introducing himself to the other guests, trying his best to decipher which lords and heirs resented him, which ones were indifferent, and which ones accepted him – more or less. Speaking to them also helped solidify their names and where they came from in his memory. The ones with marriageable sisters seemed less inclined to look on him with favour.

  He met up with Kort again for the evening banquet and managed to spirit him away after the meal to debrief on what he had learned and to get Kort’s opinion of his conclusions.

  Kort seemed pleased to be consulted. Bain began to suspect that Kort’s lack of interest in looking for a bride might have nothing at all to do with being the third son. He paid scant notice to any of the ladies. The young men seemed to draw more of his attention, though he was circumspect about it and avoided those who had obvious designs on the ladies present. Bain told himself to take care not to become the object of Kort’s affections. No, Kort knows I am not that way inclined. He knows I desire Phaera. And I must make certain I do not acquire the wrong reputation.

  Bain had managed to put Phaera out of mind until now, but as he headed to the barracks to seek out his bed, Kort called after him, “Will you be at weapons practice tomorrow afternoon? ‘Tis a good way to attract some attention from the ladies – if you have any skill, that is.”

  “Yes, I will be there. My skill may surprise you.” Bain grinned at his friend’s back as Kort turned and strode off in another direction with a backward wave. To a different kind of tryst? Bain wondered if the other men suspected Kort was a lover of men? He, himself, had no hatred for such men, as his mother had taught him that he had nothing to fear from them. Other men, however, were not so accepting. Men like Kort often led a double life, either living in the shadows trying to avoid notice, or compensating by striving to outdo other men. I must be vigilant.

  The thought of meeting Phaera in the morning brought his focus back with force. Phaera! She invited me back. With a satisfied sigh he lay down, wrapped his blanket around his exhausted frame and fell instantly asleep.

  No matter how he tried to get her attention the crow circled away from him each time he moved in the direction of her eye.

  This bird stood out from all the others, with inky feathers that gleamed with a blue light all their own. And she had the most unusual eyes, cornflower blue.

  He’d never seen a crow with eyes that colour. They mesmerized him. Somehow he had to get her attention.

  But the crow turned away in seeming disdain every time he approached her. No matter how shiny his offering, or how tasty the morsels he lay before her, she refused to meet his eyes. Instead, she resolutely kept her back to him, moving in the opposite direction each time.

  All th
e while she pecked at grains and stones around her, ignoring the shiny bits and offerings he had left for her. It seemed as though she did not even see them, though she stepped neatly between them without touching them. She knew they were there.

  Bain woke in a sweat, so bound in his blanket that he had to struggle to disentangle himself. The realization of where he was brought him back to the present with a jolt. Reality hit him like a bolt of lightning. She has no interest in me. She only wants to know about my mother, to learn if I have any healing knowledge she can use. She called me “bastard”, remember? Whatever made me think I had a chance with her? I have only five more days before I must return home.

  Chapter Five

  I WILL NOT WED

  Yet, as he lay back down to salvage what he could of the night, the stubborn hope remained that he might be mistaken. Sleep eluded him and when the first glimmers of light told him dawn approached he rose silently, grabbed his boots, and tip-toed to the exit. Will she welcome me this time?

  He made a quick pass through the kitchens where he managed to scavenge a cold turkey leg. By the time he reached Phaera’s apothecary he had gnawed it down and tossed the bone to a prowling dog. The doors already stood open and he spotted Phaera inside taking a jar down from a shelf.

  Not wishing to presume, he waited in her doorway. “Good morning.”

  “I suppose it is, as no one stood waiting before I arrived.” She did not even turn her head to acknowledge him.

  Bain entered. “May I be of assistance?”

  “I doubt it.”

  Bain felt foolish standing there so he entered and approached the table where Phaera had set the jar. Beside it stood a bowl filled with lanolin and an empty jar. “If you measure that lanolin and,” he bent to sniff the powder in the first jar, “balsam into that mortar I am sure I can mix it properly for the balm you need.”

  She turned her head and with a quick raise of her eyebrows, reached for the mortar and pestle, measured the ingredients into it, added some mint powder, “for the scent” and handed them to him. Reaching under the table she retrieved two more of the small jars and said, “Fill these as well”.

  They did not speak while he mixed and filled the jars. Bain felt that waiting for more instructions would make him look weak. Remembering that his mother always covered the open jars, he took the initiative to work as Phaera’s partner and not her student. “What do you cover these with?” It worked. She answered him.

  “There are cloths and string under the table by your knees.”

  Though she seemed to take no notice of him Bain caught her sideways glances. He allowed himself a moment of pride that he had not lost his skill as he tied the cloth covers on with fingers deft from long practice.

  Since it appeared Phaera had no intention of initiating conversation, merely handing him various potions and jars to fill, Bain took a silent breath for courage before breaking the silence. “I did not see you at the banquet last evening.”

  “No. I have no interest in them.”

  “Perhaps the question is impertinent, but may I ask why?”

  “Yes, it is impertinent. I did not attend because I have no need to find a husband. I will not wed.”

  “I would think that hard to avoid, as the only daughter of a powerful lord.”

  “My Lord Father has sworn to me that he will not force me to wed against my will. So I will not.”

  “Is there nothing that might induce you to change your mind?”

  She whirled on him, eyes blazing, causing him to take a half step backward. “Can you imagine that I would ever consent to give up my freedom to do this work to become the pretty puppet of a fop who sees me only as an ornament or a brood mare?” She turned back to her work but Bain could see that her hands shook and her back was rigid with emotion. “Leave that to the vacuous maids who care only for gowns and jewels, who have accepted that they have no minds of their own.”

  Bain stopped his work and turned his back to the table, leaning on it slightly as he studied her, thinking about what she had revealed. Knowing he had nothing to lose he decided to challenge her.

  “It need not be that way. Indeed, I know that there are lords who show their wives great respect, perhaps even consult with them. My father speaks highly of Lady Flor.” When her only response was an angry shake of her head he continued. “ I have not been at court long but from what I have observed Lady Flor commands a great deal of respect and has a good deal of authority within the castle – and all that without producing an heir.”

  At that moment a man arrived, chalk-faced, gripping his left forearm. Blood dripped from between his clenched fingers. “My Lady…”

  Bain was closest to the door. He reached the man first, supporting him to the stool Phaera pulled out. “What happened?”

  Phaera shot him a glare as she got between them and took the man’s arm to examine it.

  The man faced Phaera as he answered. “I were butchering the old sow, the one that be past breeding. She be heavy. She rolled and the knife slipped.”

  By this time Phaera had ripped the sleeve from the man’s shirt. Bain could see that the wound was deep and bled freely. The bleeding will make it clean. Anticipating Phaera’s need he handed her a strip of clean cloth from the pile in the basket behind them. She barely glanced at him as she took it and tied it above the wound, slowing the bleeding to a trickle.

  “Here … spirits to clean the wound.” Bain reached the flask in her direction.

  “You clean it. I will get my needle and thread.” Phaera pulled her travel basket out from under the table. “Then fetch clean water.”

  The man gave a yelp of pain as the alcohol poured into the gash.

  Bain moved aside as Phaera pulled up another stool and began to stich the wound. He admired the skill with which she pressed the edges of the muscles back into place before making tidy stiches to close the wound. It will heal well if he avoids using it until it is ready.

  Instead of taking the bowl and cloths from him Phaera rose from the stool leaving it to him to bandage the arm as a young man approached, limping in pain.

  Apparently Phaera thought him competent enough to leave Bain to finish and turn her attention to her next patient. Bain allowed himself a small smile. “There.” Bain tied a sling and placed the man’s arm in it. “I am afraid someone else will have to finish butchering that sow. You must not use this arm for a week. And we will need to look at it before you do. If the pain gets worse, or you feel heat through the bandages, return to have it looked at immediately. If you allow it to fester you could lose the arm.”

  The man’s eyes grew round with fear. “Nay, I canna lose it.”

  “Then do as I said and it will heal clean.”

  The man’s head bobbed up and down vigorously.

  Phaera had taken a moment to inspect Bain’s handiwork. “Yes, it will heal. But you must do as Lord Bain instructed. And it may not return to full strength for some time.”

  The man flashed Bain a startled look. “L..lord Bain?

  Phaera had already turned her attention to the other lad.

  Bain gave a derisive chuckle as he helped his patient up. “Not yet. One day.” Well, at least I am not “the bastard” any more. As he helped the man to the door he repeated, “Rest that arm. Understood?”

  “I will … Milord.” With a quick backward look over his shoulder the man tottered off.

  Over the next hours Bain acted as Pheara’s assistant. They spoke little to each other but Bain was able to anticipate what she needed and she accepted his efforts with little comment.

  Bain heard his stomach growl, letting him know it was time for the midday meal. “Milady, I must take my leave as I am expected at weapons practice. May I have your leave to return tomorrow?”

  Phaera started but quickly collected herself. She turned her back to him, as though returning to her earlier work. With a tone that struck Bain as too casual, she replied, “As you wish”.

  Is that because she does not wish to
admit she enjoyed this morning? The glow of that thought died at the realization that he would be leaving for home four mornings hence. Certainly not enough time to change the mind of a woman so determined not to be snared into marriage.

  As he approached the castle he spied Kort coming from the opposite direction, in animated conversation with a young man dressed in bright colours, who leaned his head just a little too close and smiled just a little too shyly at Kort.

  It confirmed Bain’s suspicions that Kort preferred to share his bed with men. That would make life more difficult for him. While some people who found out would either avoid or ignore him, other men could use it as an excuse to beat him or abase him. The rest, including most women, would do nothing in his defense. Homosexuality, while not illegal, was seen as an aberration, one which created suspicion and fear.

  As soon as the two noticed him they moved apart abruptly, the young man leaving off to Kort’s left, toward the central square lined by shops.

  Kort, a worried crease between his brows, waited for Bain to catch up with him.

  Bain decided to put Kort at ease. Feigning a conspiratorial air he said, “A pretty lad.” When Kort blushed deep red, confirming that Bain had been correct, he added, “Your secret is safe with me,” He flashed Kort a reassuring grin, “as long as you agree that my desire for Phaera remains between the two of us.”

  Relief flooded Kort’s face. “Of course, your secret remains between us.”

  “Good.” He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “I was with her this morning.”

  Kort’s head shot up and his brows nearly met his hairline. “What?”

  Pleased that he had caught Kort by surprise, Bain added, “Yes, at her apothecary - and she invited me back.”