DELUGE

by Lisa T. Bergren

  He scowled. “I cannot keep this from her.”

  “You must!” I felt the familiar tightening at my back then, but this time, it was ten-times the strength.

  And when it wrapped around, under my belly, deep within, I bent over, gasping. A second later, my water broke, a rush of warm, clear liquid running down my legs and pooling on the granite beneath me, before me.

  “Gabriella!” Rodolfo cried, gripping my arms, even as he picked up his boot with distaste distorting his lips. “What is this?”

  I groaned, half mortified that it looked like I just peed all over his floor, and half in terror as the realization of what was happening solidified in my mind. I swallowed hard and looked him in the eye. “I’m in labor,” I said.

  “You are what?” he said.

  “The baby! My baby! The hour is upon us! I’m about to give birth!”

  And never, ever had I seen Lord Rodolfo Greco look so scared.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  GABRIELLA

  He picked me up in his arms and carried me to the door. “Falito!” he bellowed, kicking the door. The knight opened it so fast that he nearly hit us. He stared at Rodolfo in open accusation as we swept past.

  “What is it? What has happened?” he asked, following behind us.

  “Fetch the Ladies Alessandra and Evangelia. And send a man for the village midwife. Lady Gabriella is about to give birth.”

  I might’ve laughed at the straight-shouldered, strong knight paling so fast I thought he’d faint. But I was in the middle of another contraction. I tried to breathe through it, worrying that it was upon me, so soon after the other. Weren’t they supposed to be farther apart? Wasn’t that what Mom said? Farther apart and then getting closer, the nearer I came to actually giving birth?

  Tears streamed down my face as the contraction clenched at my belly. It felt like the worst cramps of my whole life. Like a hundred-times worse than the worst cramps. But more tears came as I fretted over the baby, coming now, weeks before he or she was due. Was she big enough, strong enough to survive? Did we get the birth date wrong? We hardly had access to ultrasounds and data to tell us…

  I let out a less-than-cool moan as the next contraction hit, and squeezed with everything in me on Rodolfo’s arm.

  “Hold, Gabriella, hold,” Rodolfo said through gritted teeth, keeping me close. “You shall be all right.”

  “My baby,” I said through my tears as he laid me down on the bed I’d slept in last night.

  “She shall be all right,” he said, stroking my cheek.

  “She? She?” I laughed through my tears. “Why does everyone insist they know ’tis a girl?”

  “Because she must be,” he said, casting me a wry grin as he pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and handed it to me.

  I turned over to my side, panting, trying to get my head together. “My mother. I need my mother. Please, Rodolfo. Can you send a rider to Siena to fetch Marcello and my parents? These things can take tah—” I winced, grabbed a breath. “Time.”

  But my last word emerged strangled from my throat as another contraction took over. I panted, feeling like an idiot, but not caring. This kind of pain was Scary with a capital S.

  “Send for them,” I said, catching hold of his hand. “But get that midwife here first. And send for Giacinta and Cook from Castello Forelli. I don’t want to deliver this baby on my own.”

  A sly grin took over his face. “Another fierce She-Wolf, making an entrance.”

  Hilarious, this guy. Suddenly the most intense guy I knew thought he was a laugh-a-minute.

  “Rodolfo…”

  “Why is it that you must make every moment one of drama?”

  “Lord Greco!” I cried, grabbing his tunic and pulling his face close to mine. “Go and fetch them at once!” I demanded. “Yourself, if you must!”

  “Yes, m’lady,” he said, fear and concern sobering him at last.

  I held on to his tunic, pulling him even closer. “If you do not see to it yourself that every person important to me arrives at this castello by sun-up, there shall be hell to pay.”

  “Yes, m’lady,” he said, audibly gulping.

  I released him. “Go! Go!”

  And the man scurried out as if he were but ten years old.

  The next contraction wracked me, and I cried out. All I wanted was for it to go away. Or stop. At once.

  The pain. God in heaven, the pain….

  Falito peeked in, looking flushed and sweaty, despite the chilly winter day. “Ladies Evangelia and Alessandra are on their way, m’lady.”

  “Good,” I managed to say. “Thank you. Now can you kindly close that door and stay on the other side of it?”

  “It shall be done,” he said, looking like I’d just given him the moon by excusing him.

  I rolled onto my hands and knees and rocked, wondering at the excruciating agony at my lower back. Was something wrong? Was this normal for women in labor?

  Alessandra and Lia arrived, faces pale with alarm, all nervous energy. Behind them were an army of maids. Two carrying a brass bathing tub. Four with eight buckets of steaming water. Two more carrying linens and boxes of medicinals.

  Lia rushed straight to me, stroking my head, pushing the hair from my sweating face. “What has happened?”

  “Well, Lia, you see, when a girl gets pregnant and the time comes—”

  “Gabi!”

  I sighed and then clenched my teeth as I could feel another contraction building pressure across abdomen and back. “Water broke,” I grit out. “Contractions coming fast. Much faster…than what Mom said.”

  Her blue eyes widened with alarm. “How soon might we expect the midwife?”

  “An hour, mayhap two,” Alessandra said.

  My eyes met Lia’s, and I shook my head as I panted through the next contraction.

  Could she get here in time? That’s what I feared.

  No Mom.

  No midwife.

  And away from home.

  Just me and my sis and our friend.

  “Let’s do this,” I said, leaning back on the pillow as the contraction built to a crescendo. I cried out, gripping Lia’s hand.

  “It’s so early!” Lia said, fretting through every syllable. “It’s early, right? Really early?”

  “Who knows?” I cried out. “It’s hardly an exact science here,” I said in English. “No ultrasounds, no charting. We’re working off best-guesses!”

  “Best guesses?” she said. “We can’t do this, Gabs. I can’t do this. What if something goes wrong…what if—”

  “Lia,” I said, gripping her hand with mine. “I need you to be the strong one here. A She-Wolf. I’ve seen you do it before. Do it again. Now.”

  She hurriedly nodded and seemed to get a hold of herself. “Okay. Okay. I’ve got this. Want a bath? It might ease the pain. I mean…is that okay?”

  “Think it’s safe?” I asked, looking over to the inviting water, steam rising. “I mean, now that my water’s broken?”

  “What do I know?” she said, any measure of confidence in her tone slipping.

  “Forget it,” I said. “Let’s not risk it.” Oh, Mom, Mom, where are you? I need you! Marcello!

  But thoughts of my mother and husband were soon usurped by the pain, the mind-stealing, breath-robbing pain. No sooner had I caught my breath then another contraction was upon me. I could feel the baby shift, lower, and the pain eased a bit, by degrees, even as the contractions wracked me.

  ***

  EVANGELIA

  As much as I thought that Gabi would have this baby within the hour, it went on.

  Hour after hour…after hour.

  Contraction after contraction.

  For a time, they came faster. And then they stalled.

  It was comforting when Cook and Giacinta walked through the door, but after changing Gabi’s bed linens and her position, we all pretty much settled into watching the ongoing torture of sorts, via each contraction, making her face skew up in half
-terror, half-misery. I held her hand, trying to hide my grimacing at how she bore down upon my fingers. Cook left to make some sort of soup in the kitchen that we could easily down as we stayed with Gabi. Alessandra dabbed her forehead with a cool, white cloth. But mostly she knelt at her bedside and muttered prayers in Latin. Giacinta joined her.

  Oddly, it blanketed the room in a sort of comforting embrace, those prayers, uttered in the ancient tongue. How many mothers, aunties and friends had offered up other prayers like them, begging God to see us, rescue us, deliver us?

  Hour upon hour we moved through—me, half desperate for Gabi to deliver, and half-desperate to avoid it. What did I know about birth? Delivery? Why did Mom have to be so far away when we needed her most?

  Deep into the early morning hours, there was a knock upon the door.

  I lifted my head, knowing my hair was going in a hundred different directions and basically, I looked like a mess. But I wondered…hoped…Mom?

  It was Marcello, and behind him, Luca, who cast me a smile before he was shut out again in the hallway. Greco hovered beside him, looking anxious.

  “Where are my parents?” I asked Rodolfo, looking over his shoulder.

  “They were away from Siena for the day,” he said distractedly. “We sent men. They’ll be here on the morrow.”

  On the morrow? We needed them now!

  Marcello rushed over to Gabi, who was sweating and grimacing through another terrible contraction. I followed. The midwife was on her other side, stroking her arm, encouraging her through, Alessandra hovering behind the little woman, handing her fresh linens before she asked for them. How did Ali know what to do? I felt desperately out of place, completely inadequate.

  “My love, is this not early?” Marcello asked, when Gabi’s contraction ended, and she caught her breath. “I thought we didn’t expect the babe for a month yet.”

  “We didn’t,” I muttered, weary, unthinking. “Until Rodolfo upset her and—”

  I caught myself before I finished. In a quiet moment, hours past, when it was just the two of us, Gabi had told me what had come down. But I shouldn’t have let on…I shouldn’t have let on.

  Gabi stared at me, as if I’d just betrayed her, even as another contraction was upon her, making sweat pour from her brow and her face clench up. Marcello’s jaw muscle ticked in silent fury. “I shall return to you upon your call,” he said, kissing her forehead.

  My eyes locked with Alessandra’s.

  I’d just screwed up. Big-time.

  I chased Marcello from the room, closing the door behind me as Gabi wailed. Down the hall to where he was backing Rodolfo up against a wall, shouting accusations.

  “How could you?” he growled. “My wife…in her fragile state.”

  Rodolfo lifted his hands. “Marcello, I—”

  Marcello struck him savagely across the face, sending him sprawling.

  “Marcello!” Luca cried, grabbing him, as Rodolfo looked up at him, cradling his bruised cheek, his eyes sparking his own, cold fury. He was on his feet in seconds, and the two circled, hands clenched.

  I burst between them. “Cease this! Cease!”

  But they spoke over me, around me, and I could feel their joint frustration and anger as clearly as if I’d slipped into a hot cauldron of boiling water.

  Marcello took my arm and wrenched me to the side, toward Luca. “See to your wife, Luca. This is between me and him.”

  I stared back at him, barely recognizing my brother-in-law. What was wrong with him? Surely he didn’t think that—

  “You provoked this!” Marcello cried, poking Rodolfo in the chest. “You set her upon her labors, endangering both my wife and child!”

  “Nay!” Rodolfo said. “Nay. I merely wanted to know—”

  “Wanted to know? Why prey upon a woman, when you could ask me, man to man? Why wait until your brother is away, before you corner my wife?”

  “Corner? Nay, Marcello. I merely wanted—”

  “Falito told me! All of it! How you brought her to your study, closed the door…And then Evangelia confirmed my fears.” He leaned closer. “You have never quite given up on Gabriella, have you?”

  My eyes widened in horror. I could only be glad he spoke in a hushed undertone as Gabi wailed, on the other side of the door, blocking Alessandra’s hearing.

  “You have always wanted my wife, haven’t you, Lord Greco?” Marcello sneered, grabbing hold of Rodolfo’s tunic in both fists and shoving him to the wall. “And when you couldn’t have her, you’ve waited to exact your vengeance. Waited, until I was away from home. Waited, until she was at her weakest, so close to the delivery of our child…to prey upon her. Press yourself upon her. Bring her such trial that she went into labor far before she should have!”

  Marcello’s face was an inch from Rodolfo’s. Luca and I gaped in horror at them. He didn’t just say that, I thought. Please tell me he didn’t just say that…

  Rodolfo stared down into his friend’s eyes for a long moment, not moving to defend himself. “You are not yourself,” he mumbled. “You know not what—”

  “You wanted her as your own. If I had not come to Roma, you would have forced those nuptial vows,” he said, spittle flying in the torchlight.

  We all froze for a moment, remembering that day. Remembering how close to the precipice Rodolfo had come, to either giving into the Fiorentini or giving it all up for us. And yet, and yet…he was the one who had snuck us into the church, found us access, made a way to free her. Right?

  Rodolfo growled and shoved him back, slamming him into the far wall. Marcello faltered, gained his feet and rammed into Greco again, at the belly, until he hit the other wall.

  “Nay!” Luca cried. “Brothers! Nay!”

  He managed to get between them, a hand on each man’s heaving chest. “This is a good moment!” he shouted. “A fine moment! Within these walls—once the domain of our enemy—Marcello’s babe, his heir, is about to be born! And you two are fighting like two boars! This is not the time and place! This is not,” he said again, lowering his voice, “the time and place. Marcello,” he said looking to his cousin, “you have spoken rashly. Rodolfo,” he said, looking to his friend, “you have acted out of turn. Both of you owe your brother an apology,” he grit out. “See to it.”

  The men shifted, but Luca held his place. “Brothers…”

  Marcello heaved a sigh and wrenched away from Luca’s hand, stepping away a few paces, hands on hips. He lifted his chin, staring at the ceiling, then down to the floor. “Luca is right. I was…rash. Forgive me, brother.”

  The words were lacking oomph, spoken as a boy told to do what he must by his mother, not as a man who believed what he said. And while I hated that, it was true. Rodolfo had always had a thing for my sister. He loved Alessandra. I knew that was also true. But some feelings died hard…and while Marcello loved both his wife and the brother of his childhood, a man could only tolerate so much.

  Rodolfo ran a hand through his black hair and then rubbed his face. “I did press Gabriella for information I had no right to press her for, without you with us. Forgive me. I never meant…” He looked toward Marcello.

  Marcello turned halfway, as if listening, but did not meet his gaze.

  “I never meant to send her to her labors early, Marcello. Please, believe me in that. I would never do anything to harm Gabriella or you. Truly.”

  Marcello blinked several times, looked down, then strode away, toward Gabi’s door, laying his palm and forehead upon it as yet again she wailed in agony.

  GABRIELLA

  Lia returned, looking peaked, but I had bigger things on my mind.

  Like the fact that I was having this baby. That he or she had shifted, downward. It was happening, finally.

  I was just glad Lia’d returned in time. If I couldn’t have Mom and Dad—who had apparently gone off to another Etruscan site—these were the only two girls I wanted with me.

  “Leave us,” I said to the maids, who’d gradually congregated
in number around me, like some kind of freaky peep show was on. “Only the midwife, Lia and Alessandra remain.”

  They filed out, reluctantly looking back at us, some appearing as if they might like to truly help, others like they were just sorry to miss the big moment. I didn’t care.

  “This baby is coming. You’ll stay with me?” I asked, panting.

  My sister squeezed my hand. “Of course.”

  Alessandra nodded gravely. “Yes, yes.”

  “May I keep holding your hands?” I gasped. “I know they must be like chopped liver right now…”

  Alessandra gave me a curious look at my phrase, but she took my hand in hers. “Squeeze as hard as you want. I held my mother’s as she birthed my brothers.”

  The midwife moved down between my knees, coaching and cooing to me in alternately soft and commanding tones, bringing me through one contraction after another. Encouraging me to rest in between. To breathe. To pray. And then…to push. Push, with the contractions.

  “’Tis time,” she said.

  I clenched my teeth as a strong contraction started to build. At the same time, I bore down, pushing, pushing…And then it eased.

  “Breathe, Gabi,” Lia said, as I leaned back against the pillows when the contraction had passed, gasping for breath. Alessandra wiped sweat from my forehead and cheeks.

  I panted, trying to shore up the energy for what was ahead. And when the next contraction came, I bore down and pushed. And then with the next. And the next.

  The midwife let out a little cry, her face lighting up with excitement. “Here comes our little lord or lady! I see the head.”

  I pushed, and I pushed, and I pushed, much preferring this round of the whole ordeal to the previous, horrific contractions. The transition that took hours.

  We were in a rhythm now.

  There was focus, rather than sheer, terrifying pain.