“I’m sorry to wake you at this hour, breda, but Byrna is in labor and should not be left alone; will you come and sit with her for a time?”
Magda got out of bed, huddling her thick nightgown round her, her feet cringing at the touch of the stone floor. “Where is the midwife?”
“It always happens this way—babies come in clusters! Marisela has slept in the house these last ten days, but tonight of all nights she was called out to the other end of the city. But it is Byrna’s first child, and there is no great hurry. You will have time to wash your face and dress.”
Magda went down the hall to the community bath and splashed her face with cold water; she flinched at its cold bite, knowing that if she stayed here a hundred years she would never, never get used to this. It had never seemed to occur to anyone that anyone would want a warm bath in the morning, so in the morning there was no hot water—it was as simple as that. Magda supposed that when you were doing hard manual work it made sense to wash off the day’s grime in the evening—she still remembered her tenday in the stables, and how welcome a hot bath had been then. But it was one of those cultural differences that really hurt.
“What time is it?” she asked Camilla, as they went down the corridor.
“Just after midnight. We have taken her upstairs, so she can make as much noise as she likes, and not fear waking anyone who needs sleep. Rafaella is upstairs with her now, but Rafi is pledged to leave at sunrise and she must have a little sleep.”
In the fourth-floor room, a fire had been lighted, and Byma was walking back and forth in front of the fire, wrapped in thick shawls over her chemise. She turned and said “Thank you for coming to stay with me, Margali—I’m sorry to get you up like this—”
“It’s all right,” said Madga, taking her hands awkwardly. “How are you feeling?”
“It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would, not yet,” Byrna said, “It’s like a bad case of cramps, and it sort of comes and goes; between times I feel fine.”
“And it won’t even hurt that much, if you remember what Marisela told you, and breathe into it,” Rafaella said, coming to put her arm around Byma’s waist. “I’ve had four, and I know.” She gave Byrna a hug, and went to the door with Magda. She said, “Do you know how to handle this early stage?”
Magda shook her head. Rafaella always made her feel stupid and incompetent. “I’ve never been with a woman in labor before.”
Rafaella raised her eyebrows. “At your age? Where, in Avarra’s name, were you brought up? Well, all you can do at this stage is to keep her cheerful, remind her to relax if she starts to tense up. The most she can do, at this stage, is not to interfere with what’s going on inside. Let her drink as much water as she wants, or tea—” she added, indicating a kettle boiling over the fireplace on its long arm, “and if she feels faint, put a spoonful of honey in it. Don’t worry if she vomits, some women do. The important thing is just to be with her, reassure her.‘’
Magda faltered. “What if the—the baby comes before the midwife gets here?”
Rafaella stared at her in puzzlement. “Well, so what? If it comes all by itself, that’s the best thing that could happen. They do sometimes come like that, no pain, no fuss. If it does, just wrap it in anything handy—don’t cut the cord—just lay it on top of her and go and yell for somebody who knows what to do; any of the Guild Mothers would know.” She added impatiently, “There’s nothing to handling a baby that comes by itself; it’s when they don’t that you need help! Camilla will be in and out; if Byrna starts wanting to push, tell Camilla to go and get somebody in a hurry, but I don’t think that will happen for hours yet. And for heaven’s sake, calm down, you’ll frighten Byrna if you’re this nervous! If there were anybody else, I’d never leave her to you, of all people! But how was I to know anyone your age would be so ignorant?” Rafaella went and hugged Byrna again, said, “Have a nice little Amazon for the house, won’t you?” and went away with Camilla, leaving Magda alone with Byrna. They looked at each other rather helplessly; then Byrna said “Oh—it’s starting again,” and grabbed Magda around the waist, leaning heavily on her, breathing hard and panting softly. When it was over she drew a long, gasping breath and said “That one really hurt!”
“Well,” said Magda, “maybe that means it won’t be as long as you think.”
“I want to rest for a while.” Byrna dropped down on the mattress which had been laid on the floor, covered with clean, but ragged sheets, She sighed restlessly.
“My oath-mother promised to be here for the birth, but I have heard there are floods in the Kilghard Hills, and she could not travel.” She blinked tears from her eyes. “I’m so lonely here, with no oath-sisters in the House—everyone’s been so kind to me, but it’s not like having my oath-sisters here.”
Those who witness your oath are your family… . Magda remembered the swift growth of her own bond with Jaelle, and that Camilla had treated her with unusual friendliness. “Byrna, we are all your sisters, bound by the oath—every one of us here.”
“I know. I know.” But Byrna blinked tears away and her hands clenched into fists. She closed her eyes, shifted her weight again and seemed to fall asleep for a moment. Magda rose and mended the fire, tiptoed back and sat beside the apparently sleeping Byrna.
After a long time Byrna stirred and twisted restlessly. “Even when I’m breathing the way Marisela told me, it hurts, it hurts so much, and Marisela promised it wouldn’t…”
Magda tried to remember random things she had read. “Just breathe quietly; try to feel as if you were floating,” she said, and Byrna was quiet again, resting. After a time she hoisted herself up wearily and began to walk, leaning on Magda. “They said it would go faster if I could stay on my feet.”
Later, Camilla came back, carrying a cradle in her arms. “How are you feeling, Byrna? Look, here is a cradle for your little one; I found it in the storeroom, and an embroidered blanket; I made this one myself, fifteen years ago, for Rafaella’s last baby. Doria slept under it. And now she is an Amazon herself!”
“It looks like new,” Byrna said, caressing the woolly fabric, and Camilla laughed. “No baby uses it for very long. How do you feel?”
“Awful,” Byrna said, “and it seems to be taking a long time.”
Camilla felt about her body. “You’re coming along well enough. It may not be as long as we think. Try to walk some more, if you can.”
She disappeared again, and the time seemed to stretch out. Byrna walked and Magda held her upright, holding her when the contractions seized her; later she lay down to rest, or slept a little, moaning. After three or four hours, gray light began to steal through the window.
“Look,” Magda said, “it’s morning. The sun will be up soon.” Byrna did not answer, and Magda thought she had dozed again, but then she heard the woman whimper softly. “What’s the matter? Is it very bad? Lie back and relax, Byrna—”
“Lie back, Byrna, don’t make a fuss, Byrna, relax, Byrna,” the woman mimicked savagely, sitting up on the bed. “Don’t I know it all?” “You don’t really give a damn,” Byrna flung at her, and started to cry, “There’s nobody here who cares, and I’m so miserable—” She sobbed, curling herself up, holding herself, and Magda was dismayed She felt she was breaking all the rules—surely nothing like this would ever have been allowed in Medic HQ in the Terran Zone—but she sat down on the edge of the mattress beside Byrna, laying a tentative hand on the shaking shoulders. “That’s not true, Byrna. I’m really sorry your oath-mother isn’t with you, but I’ll try to help you all I can, really I will. And it will be over sooner than you think.”
Byrna flung her arms around Magda and burst into agonized, passionate crying. Magda patted her, helplessly.
“Is it so bad? Don’t cry, they say the worse it is, the sooner it is to being over.” It was one of the few things she could remember from the midwives’ lecture a few days ago. “If you feel so bad now, then this is the worst, you’ll feel better soon when you start t
o bear down, But please, lie down again—try to relax—”
“It isn’t the pain,” Byrna said distractedly, “I could stand that, it isn’t that—” she clung to Magda, moaning. Magda held her, letting Byrna clutch at her hands with bone-crushing force.
She could feel the deep, racking shudders that passed through Byrna, and it reminded her of that moment under the matrix, when Lady Alida had gone deep into the cell-structure of the wound on Jaelle’s face and Magda had found herself sharing it. Laran. Must I feel everything she feels?
But the paroxysm passed and Magda wondered if she had merely imagined it. She persuaded Byrna to lie back on the pillows, sponged the sweat from her face, and persuaded her to sip a little tea with honey. Tears were still rolling down Byrna’s face, and to distract her Magda asked, “Do you want a boy or a girl?”
“A girl, of course—I was there when Felicia had to give up her son, since no male may live in a Renunciate house after he is five. She said he would soon be a stranger to her, yet she did not want to leave the House and her sisters, and hire a nurse to keep him when she was at work, and face all the dangers of a woman living alone in the City—I think if I bear a son I will give him up at once, before it tears my heart to let him go. Felicia wanted a son, she said she did not want to be troubled with fifteen years tied down to rearing a girl, but now that Rael is gone she is moping like a chervine that has lost her calf. I will not be that foolish, I will give him up at once.”
“Who is your child’s father, Byrna? Or would you rather not tell—”
“His name is Errol, and he is a cousin of mine. His wife has no son, and she said she would welcome a child of his to foster—” and then Byrna began to cry harder than ever. Magda, alarmed, asked, “Breda, what is it?”
Byrna wept “I can’t stand it, I can’t stand it—”
“The pains? Sister, shall I go and call Camilla, or one of the Guild Mothers? Keitha has had children, too, she might know—”
“No, no, not the pain—” she sobbed till her whole body shook. “Only—only—I am oath-breaker, forsworn—”
“Byrna, don’t—this is no time—”
“It’s true, true! That is why I wanted my oath-mother here, to confess to her, to have her forgiveness—” Her body convulsed again and Magda was sure she was making it worse with her violent crying.
“The oath—” she wrenched out, twisting and writhing, “I am sworn… bear no child save in my own time and season. … I have been taught, I know there are ways of preventing the conception of a child I did not want—but it was Midsummer, and I—I wanted to please Errol, so I lay with him even though I was raiva, ripe for conception, and not—not protected—but I was lonely, and he wanted me—we have been lovers for many years; at one time we had spoken of marriage, but I was—at that time I wanted to be independent, to do only my own will, so I chose the Guild-House, and went away to Dalereuth, and then, when I came back to Thendara, I found that he was married, and unhappy. And it seemed—oh, I hardly know how to tell you, so right somehow, with the music, and the dancing, and a—a starlit night with all the moons above us, and yet—I knew it was wrong, to risk this, to risk it—and so I am forsworn, forsworn—”
Magda was confused, not aware of the particular ethical point involved. She remembered how, at Midwinter Festival at Ardais, she had come near to surrendering herself to Peter, just because the old habit of love for him was so strong, and he had wanted her so much. But she could have done so, thanks to Terran medicine, without this kind of risk. She had been properly protected against conception… and she remembered what Mother Lauria had said on her first day in the house, that this training would be beyond price to the Renunciates. It was a sin that they did not have proper contraceptives, so that women need not take this kind of risk, bear unwanted children… and suffer this kind of guilt.
She held Byrna till her sobbing quieted a little, and said gently, “It is too late for regrets of that kind, breda. Done is done. Now you must just think of your baby.” What a foolish thing to say, she thought, as she mouthed the phrases; what else had Byrna been thinking about for all these months?
Obediently Byrna lay down; and then a look of surprise came over her face. She began to gasp deeply, to breathe in a new way, gulping in deep breaths and letting them out in a harsh, straining groan. Magda admonished her to relax, but Byrna seemed not to hear, gasping out between the heavy groans “Something’s happening—it doesn’t hurt as much now—”
Oh, God, Magda thought, she’s beginning to bear down, I’ve got to go and call somebody who knows what to do—
Byrna gasped “I need to—to hold something—” and grabbed at Magda’s hands, straining, hauling, her face reddening with the effort. Magda tried to brace herself against panic.
“O-o-h,” Byrna groaned, but curiously it was not a sound of pain; only of tremendous effort; Magda could almost feel it in her own body and it was a curiously satisfying sensation—what the hell was happening to her? More to the point, what was happening to Byrna?
Byrna clutched her hands and let out a long howling cry, more a grunt than a scream. “It’s coming,” she yelled, “I can feel it, it’s coming, it’s coming now—” She gulped air again and gave herself over to the groaning, straining effort. Magda tried to wrest her hands away.
“Let me go and call somebody, Byrna—”
“No, no, don’t leave me—” Byrna grunted the words out and went into a long shriek; Magda could not free herself. Maybe someone would hear Byrna yelling, but she could not get free without hurting her, maybe she should run and call somebody— but Byrna was tugging at her hands, crying out, that hard yell ending in gasping grunts
Oh, Camilla, why don’t you come back—!
The door burst open and Keitha was in the room. She said briskly, “I heard her, and I’ve delivered enough babies to know what that kind of yell means. Here, let me—” she drew the shawl and chemise back. “Get behind her, Margali, hold her up—yes, like that, hold her up, that’s right.” Magda obeyed, numbly, not knowing what was going on; Byrna was sitting half-upright, her legs spread, Magda behind her, gripping her around the waist. Byrna arched her body, strained, howling aloud, as Keitha braced her knees upright She said swiftly, “No time to call anybody, no time to wait—I can manage.”
Byrna gasped and yelled again, her body arching with effort. She was babbling, but Magda could not understand the words. Keitha knelt before her, and out of the corner of her eye Magda saw something red, slick, wet, streaked with blood. Byrna’s harsh gasps and cries were blood-curdling; Keitha murmured something reassuring, and then Magda saw the wet, wriggling body of the child as Keitha lifted it, gently, tilted it head downward. There was a faint mewing wail, then the newborn baby began to scream indignation at leaving his warm nest. His. Magda could see the tiny folded genitals against the little body. Byrna relaxed against Magda, held out her arms.
“Let me hold him,” she whispered. “Oh, Keitha, give him to me.‘ ”
“He’s beautiful,” Keitha said, smiling, and laid the naked child on Byrna’s belly. He wriggled toward the breast, and Byrna guided him gently; Magda suddenly wanted to cry, she wasn’t sure why.
I didn’t want a child, she thought, any more than Byrna did. Yet she’s so happy with it now. He’s so beautiful, she thought, looking blissfully at the baby against Byrna’s body, and I could have had Peter’s child, and I would have been as happy as that—she felt her breath catch in a sob.
“Margali,” said Keitha, “Go and call Mother Millea. I would go myself, but I can manage the afterbirth, if I must, and you can’t.”
But Magda had not reached the door before Camilla came in, and beside her, heavily wrapped in outdoor cloak and hood, was Marisela, who looked at them and laughed as she took off her mantle.
“So you have cheated me out of a birth-gift, Keitha? Well, I have been up all night delivering twins; both born backward and I thought the mother would bleed to death. But they are both alive, and so is thei
r mother, and they were both sons, so the father—” she made a wry face, “forced a double fee on me. So I am glad the hard part is already over.” She went quickly and washed her hands in the basin near the fire, then came and said, “Let me see. Well, you managed that nicely, Keitha; she is not torn, even though it came so fast? Well, he is not very big. Here, little man,” she said, taking up the baby and handling him in her expert fingers, turning him over, checking the cord, the stumpy little toes and fingers, putting a finger in his mouth to see if he sucked at it, swiftly inspecting nose, ears, the back of his pudgy neck, “Well, what a fine little fellow you are, every finger and toe where it should be.” She laid him down again at Byrna’s breast. “How do you feel, Byrna?”
“Tired,” the woman said blissfully, “and sleepy. And hungry. Isn’t he beautiful, Marisela?”
“He is indeed,” said Mansela. She was a small, competent-looking woman, her hair cropped in Amazon fashion, but she wore women’s clothing. She said, “I will send one of your friends down to get you some hot milk with honey; you are not bleeding much, but I will put something in it anyway, and then you will sleep for a while. And when you wake up, you shall have as big a breakfast as you want to eat.” She looked at Magda and said, “You are the new one, aren’t you? I forget your name—”
“Margali n’ha Ysabet,” Madga said.
“I am sorry; I spend so much of my time out of the house I sometimes do not remember you all. I remembered you, though, Keitha,” she said, touching Keitha’s cropped golden head, “Did I not deliver your daughter? She must be a big girl by now.”
Keitha’s face crumpled. She said, shaking, “She—she died just before Midwinter, of the fever—”
“Ah, Goddess, I am sorry!” Marisela exclaimed.
“I—I begged my husband to send for you, who know so much of healing, but he would not—would not let a Renunciate under his roof—”
“Ah, I am sorry, but I might have been as helpless as they,” said Marisela gently, “I am skilled, but against some fevers there is no help. But now you are here, and some day, Keitha, we must talk. For the moment, I am grateful to you for doing so well with Byrna’s baby. I must finish this,” she added, holding her dripping hands well away from her, exactly as Magda had seen Medics do in the Terran HQ, and bent over Byrna to check the afterbirth. “Camilla, will you wrap up Byrna’s little man?”
The Saga of the Renunciates Page 41