by Last, K. A.
The area on the other side of the barbican was quiet, but we had to get out before the watchman came past on another round. I grabbed Grace’s hand and quickly walked across to the inner bailey. When we reached the wall I stopped and took a moment to decide which way to go next.
I heard footsteps coming towards us and panicked. I wasn’t sure if we were permitted to be in that part of the castle, so I tugged gently on Grace’s hand, spun her around and pressed her against the wall. Her chest rose and fell in beat with mine. She clutched my upper arms and stared into my eyes. My hands rested against the wall on either side of her head, our faces mere millimetres from each other, and in a moment of pure misjudgement I leant in intending to kiss her. Grace’s grip on my arms tightened and her breathing sped up.
“What have we here,” a gruff voice said.
I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against Grace’s.
“Just taking a moment,” I said. “I’m sure you understand.” I turned my head a little and tried to smile wickedly.
The watchman sniggered. “I think you’d better move along. The feast is about to start, and if you’re meant to be working you’ll be in trouble.”
“Of course,” I said. I put my arm around Grace’s shoulders and led her away.
We followed the wall until we turned the corner and I let go of Grace. I couldn’t look at her, and I couldn’t believe what I’d almost done. If the watchman hadn’t have come along when he did, I’d be attempting to explain something I didn’t want to. As it was, Grace wasn’t going to let me off so easily.
“What happened back there?” she whispered.
“Nothing,” I said a little too quickly. “I was trying to keep us out of trouble.”
“By pressing me against the wall and almost kissing me?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
Grace blushed and looked away. “Never mind,” she mumbled.
Guilt punched me in the stomach as we snaked our way through the castle grounds. I didn’t want Grace to feel uncomfortable, but I couldn’t let her think my actions were anything other than for her protection.
We walked in silence until we passed the blacksmith’s shed, and the stables. Grace stopped to stroke the nose of a fine-looking mare. A squire brushed the horse’s coat, and he offered Grace a bashful smile. The mare whinnied and tossed her head, but lowered it again for another pat.
“I can look after myself, you know,” Grace said. She stared at the mare as she scratched between its ears.
I sighed. “I know. I just acted on the spur of the moment. I thought it would be a good cover. And we’re a team, remember? I watch out for you; hopefully you’ll watch out for me.”
“I’ve always watched out for you.” Grace lowered her hand and faced me. “You’re my best friend.”
The corners of my mouth curled up. “Come on,” I said. “I’m guessing the kitchen is near the great hall.”
“And where most of the smoke is coming from?” Grace looked to the blue sky; a trail of smoke tumbled across it and mingled with the clouds.
I grunted and kept walking. The kitchen was built a little way away from the great hall, the two buildings joined by a timber passage. Livestock was tethered to posts along the outer wall. The entrance was littered with rubbish and muck. A young man shovelled it into a trough; the stink was disgusting. A large round woman with a dirty apron threw a bucket of scraps out the door. They landed on my feet and I scowled at her.
“What are you looking at?” she said.
Already, I didn’t like her. “We’re looking for Amity,” I replied, trying not to growl.
“Well, she’s working. Only workers are allowed inside my kitchen.”
“We’ll work,” I said.
The woman looked me up and down. “I’ll feed you, but there’s no pay.”
“That’s fine.”
Grace stared at me with wide eyes. You want us to work, in there? She turned her nose up.
Come on, princess. What better way to find out how to help Amity?
Before Grace could protest further, I followed the woman into the kitchen. The room was huge with a high cavernous ceiling. People bustled everywhere. Fires burned in the large ovens. Cooks stirred food boiling in big cauldrons. Kitchen hands lined a table and chopped vegetables in time with one another. Dried herbs hung from wooden racks on the wall. There was so much happening I didn’t know where to look first.
Grace took two aprons down from a hook and handed one to me. Before I’d even had time to tie it around my waist, several servants entered the kitchen from the tunnel. We were swept up in their procession and didn’t stop until we reached the far end of the room. Bowls, plates, cups and spoons were strewn onto the floor. Large tubs were pulled from a recess in the wall, and a small boy filled the first with a bucket of water. No sooner had he left than another boy tipped his bucket in. The children kept coming until the tubs were full.
The servants knelt at the tubs and began to scrub the utensils. They seemed to have it down to an art. Some would wash, others rinse, others dry, and finally someone would stack everything on a nearby table. Grace was grinning from ear to ear watching the mechanics of their team work. So far, no one had noticed we weren’t helping. Grace raised her eyebrows at me then grabbed my arm and pulled me to my knees. She thrust a dirty bowl into my hands and dunked one into the tub herself. It looked like we were going to wash dishes.
A minute ago you were turning your nose up, I said in her head.
We should probably try to blend in, she replied. And it gives us a chance to find Amity without drawing attention to ourselves.
There was a mix of young and old, male and female, all working hard. I tried to look at the faces around the tubs, but everyone had their heads down concentrating on their work.
I turned my attention to the rest of the kitchen, taking in all the movement and noise. Then I saw Amity walking towards us. She held a basket in her hands, and was noticeably uncomfortable due to her pregnant state. When she reached the table where the clean bowls and plates were stacked, she cried out and bent forward. The basket slipped from her hands and she knocked a stack of bowls to the floor. They scattered in every direction, and the sound echoed through the kitchen.
The woman who’d greeted us at the door hurried over and grabbed Amity by the hair. She pulled her to her feet and Amity screamed in pain. I didn’t know if it was from having her hair pulled, or from the way she clutched her belly. Grace’s eyes widened in shock, and my initial reaction was to run to Amity’s defence. It was enough to make my blood boil beneath my skin. I went to stand, but Grace grabbed my arm.
The woman yelled at Amity and I cringed.
“What are you doing,” she screamed. “Look at this mess.”
Amity whimpered and stared at the woman with scared eyes. A tear rolled silently down her cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut, leant forward and cried out.
“She’s in labour,” Grace said.
“So, now we intervene?” I asked.
Grace scowled, jumped to her feet and raced to Amity’s side. She put an arm around her shoulders to stop her from tumbling to the floor. Then she turned on the woman. “How dare you treat her like this you evil witch!”
“Don’t you speak to me like that,” the woman said. “I’m the boss around here.”
Grace fixed the woman with a dark stare, and it made her take a step back. I smiled to myself. Even when she was angry, Grace was beautiful.
“With God as your witness you will not lay another hand on this girl!” Grace said. “Now, let us pass.” She glowed softly with her divine light.
The woman’s eyes widened. She bowed her head and mumbled an apology. The entire kitchen had come to a standstill. All eyes were on Grace, and the workers’ faces were filled with awe. The woman stepped aside and Grace helped Amity to the door. I stood to follow. The woman frowned but didn’t attempt to stop me. After I’d stepped outside, she clapped her hands and ordered everyone back to w
ork.
“We have to get her somewhere to have this baby,” I said. The man with the shovel stopped and stared before returning to his task.
“Amity, where do you live?” Grace asked.
Amity cried out again and doubled over. “Who are you?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“We’re here to help.” I glanced at Grace over the top of Amity’s head.
Amity looked at me, her eyes glistened with fear. But it wasn’t a fear of what was happening to her. I could read it in her soul. She was afraid because she had no one. No husband, no family. She was alone. Amity moaned and squeezed her eyes shut, her face contorting into a grimace.
“Do you have anyone we can send for? The father?” I asked, but I already knew what her answer would be.
Amity shook her head. “Lost in the war.” She stopped, dropped to her knees and clutched her belly. “Please! Do something,” she cried.
Come on, Seth. We have to orb her to a safe place. Grace spoke in my mind. She can’t have her baby here in the pig muck.
We’d only made it as far as the tethered animals.
We can’t disappear in a ball of light either, I replied. There are people watching.
Then we’ll go somewhere else.
Grace placed a hand on Amity’s shoulder. “Where do you normally sleep? Do you have your own space?”
Amity groaned again and shook her head. “I sleep on the kitchen floor.”
“Well, that’s not much help,” Grace mumbled.
I helped Amity to her feet and we guided her away from the animals in search of a cleaner, more private place. The nasty woman from the kitchen came running after us. I hoped her conscience had gotten the better of her and she wouldn’t yell again.
“Get her to the midwife,” she said. “She’ll be taken care of there.”
“Can you tell us which way?” Grace asked.
“You’re not from here, are you?” The woman looked scared, as if Grace would strike her down at any moment. “No, of course you’re not.”
The woman grabbed a young boy as he ran past. She ordered him to guide us to a small, stone room where we’d find a woman named Constance. She assured us it wasn’t very far, so we hurried off. Amity managed to walk most of the way. We had to stop a few times for her contractions, but we eventually made it. Those who weren’t feasting in the great hall, or working, stopped to watch as we passed, but no one offered to help or gave us any trouble.
We reached the doorway to the room the woman had told us about and I helped Amity inside. It was dark and musty; the only light came from candles burning in small holes in the walls. There was a straw mat in one corner with a tub of water and a stool next to it. There was also a U-shaped chair that I could only assume was used for giving birth. I looked at Grace sideways.
“Hello,” Grace called.
Amity moaned in my arms. I could feel her weakening, and if I wasn’t holding her up she’d have fallen to the floor in a heap.
A woman came into the room through a doorway I hadn’t seen in the dim light. She went to the tub, washed her hands and wiped them on her apron before sitting down on the stool.
“Well, come on, bring her over,” she said.
Grace and I helped Amity to the mat and laid her down on her side. She was sweating and had her eyes shut tightly, as if not looking would take the pain away.
“Thank you,” Grace said. “Constance, is it?”
“Yes, yes. Now, she’ll be fine. It’s been a while since I’ve lost anyone. I’ll take good care of her.” Constance looked at me. “You can’t stay. No men while women are having babies.”
Grace hid a smirk behind her hand.
It’s not funny, I said to Grace. How am I supposed to help if I’m not in the room?
It is funny, and it’s just the way they do things.
“I’ll keep you informed,” Grace said so Constance could hear. “Just wait outside.”
FIVE
Sweat beaded on my forehead and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. I’d been sitting outside the birthing room long enough for the sun to dip below the castle wall, and there was still no baby. Grace had come out to update me on Amity’s progress twice. I wished she’d come out again to let me know what was going on. A few times I’d tried to speak to her in her head, but she kept telling me to be patient. Patience wasn’t my best virtue.
“Hey,” Grace said.
I glanced up to see her standing in the doorway. “Update?” I asked.
She sat beside me and leant against the stone wall. “Any minute now. But I think there’s something wrong.”
“Why else would we be here?”
Grace pursed her lips. “We can’t interfere unless we absolutely have to.”
“If we can’t take her pain away and actually help, what good are we?” I growled in frustration.
“Aren’t you the one usually telling me to follow the rules?” Grace drew her knees to her chest and laid her cheek on them. She smiled sweetly. “We were told to make sure they survive, nothing more.”
“Well, to do that, shouldn’t we be in there with Amity? Not out here discussing it?”
Footsteps sounded from inside the birthing room and Constance poked her head out. “Come. It’s time,” she said.
“I want Seth to come, too,” Grace said as she got to her feet.
Constance stared at Grace, her face serious. From the look in her eyes something was terribly wrong.
“I noticed the difference in you from the moment you arrived. I can’t explain it, but I feel calm in your presence. If you want this man in the birthing room, then I think there may be a good reason,” she said.
“You can trust us,” Grace said. “Seth would never harm Amity. He wants to help. We both do.”
Constance turned to me. “Well, I hope you can help. I don’t think she’ll make it. But no one is to ever know you were in here while she was giving birth. It’s unheard of, and I could lose my place in the community.” She looked both ways out the door before ushering us inside.
Amity lay on her side on the straw mat. She moaned softly and had her eyes tightly shut. Constance knelt beside her and gently coaxed her to a sitting position. Amity cried out as another contraction ripped through her body.
“Come on dear, it won’t be too much longer. You need to start pushing,” Constance said.
“I can’t,” Amity moaned.
Constance motioned to Grace. “Help me get her onto the birthing chair.”
Grace went to Amity’s side and took her hand. They helped her onto the chair and Grace knelt beside her. I positioned myself behind Amity and took her other hand.
“What’s he doing in here?” Amity asked.
“Shush now, he’s here to help,” Constance said.
“You can do this,” Grace said. “We’re right here. You’re not alone.”
I wiped sweat from Amity’s brow with a cloth then looked at Constance. Her mouth pressed into a thin line, and she shook her head. I could read in her mind what the problem was.
“The baby is breech.” Constance sat on the stool and reached a hand under the birthing chair. “When you feel a contraction I want you to push.”
Amity moaned again and tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes. I channelled my strength into her through my hands. We may not have been able to interfere until absolutely necessary, but I couldn’t sit back and do nothing. My energy would calm her.
Be ready, I said in Grace’s head.
She nodded, and the power of her energy flowed into Amity as well.
Constance guided Amity through the pushes. Amity screamed each time, slumping back against the chair to rest between contractions. I could feel her life force draining; it came and went in waves, and each time it ebbed my heart ached for her.
“The legs are out,” Constance cried. “Just a little longer.”
A few minutes later Amity brought a baby into the world.
“It’s a boy,” Grace whispered.
> I squeezed Amity’s hand, but there was no response. Her head lolled on her shoulders and she slipped sideways. I caught her before she could tumble off the chair.
“He’s not breathing.” Constance laid the boy on the mat and swaddled him in some cloth.
“Seth, help Amity,” Grace said. She swept the baby into her arms. For a moment all I could do was watch in awe as she did what we were sent to do. Grace gazed at the baby. His face was peaceful and he was still. Grace smiled her beautiful, angelic smile, and her skin glowed. She cradled the boy’s head with one hand, and her golden glow spread into him. Within moments he opened his eyes. Then he opened his mouth and cried.
I turned my attention to Amity and lifted her from the chair to lay her on the straw. I could feel Grace’s eyes on me, watching my every move.
A little help would be nice, I said to her.
Grace handed the baby to Constance—who seemed in shock at the miracle Grace had performed—and joined me at Amity’s side. The young woman lay still. No breath, no movement, but a faint heartbeat. We placed our hands on her and our light flowed into her body. Constance sucked in a sharp breath and held the baby closer to her breast. Amity’s skin shone with our light. It coursed through her and healed her. We nourished her tired body with our divinity, and before long she was breathing again.
“How did you…” Constance stared at us with wide eyes.
Grace raised her head and smiled. A halo of divine light bathed her in its glow. Constance fell to her knees and sobbed, clutching the newborn to her chest. She crawled to us and touched our feet.
“Please, stand up, Constance.” Grace leant down, took her by the elbow and guided her to her feet. “You don’t need to kneel in our presence.”
Amity’s eyes fluttered open and she tried to move.
“Easy does it, you’re still weak,” Grace said. She helped Amity sit up.
“Where’s my baby?” Amity asked.
Constance came closer to hand the boy over when Amity lurched forward and cried out in more pain. I caught her before she fell on her side.
Constance thrust the baby into Grace’s arms and knelt at Amity’s feet. She felt beneath Amity’s dress and her eyes widened in alarm.