Her words meant little. I didn’t know what I didn’t know and according to Druid lore and training, I knew very little. But, as I glanced at the woman on the bed, she was fading, her colour dipping. The child inside her would be worse.
“Come,” I said. “Tell me what you want me to do.” Swallowing my fear, I stepped for the bed, smoothing my hand across the feverish skin of Agnese. “Agnese, can you hear me?” I leant down and spoke in the woman’s ear, but she didn’t acknowledge me. The labour of birth had her in its grip.
I placed my palm on her forehead and breathed deeply. It seemed natural and foreign all at once. My eyes closed and I focused. I had no knowledge to reach for but that in my head. I rotated through everything I’d learned so far: every cycle, every harvest, every boon we prayed for. A deep calm settled within me.
When I opened my eyes, Agnese’s skin seemed a hint less sallow.
Heather was watching me, her gaze sharp. “The baby hasn’t turned. He’s upside down and facing the wrong way.”
Unable to help myself, I winced, squeezing my legs together. Childbirth may be a natural gift, but it looked like it could rip you inside out. There was nothing natural about that, surely? I focused, pushing away my own abhorrence and focused myself on harvest and boon, all the things we needed, all the benefits and rewards we earned. Life was one of those. A warm flow, like the glow of liquid metal spreading through my limbs.
“What should I do to help?”
Heather moved quickly, snatching my hand from where it was placed on Agnese's forehead, lowering them to her swollen belly. “Next time she cries, hold the baby, feel the baby, and will it to move.”
I glanced up at her set face in confusion. “I can’t will it to move.”
She frowned. “Fine, My Lady. Lay your hands on it, that’s all.”
Agnese began to pant, her head shaking from one side to the other as she groaned and muttered various words I was sure she’d regret when of her own mind again. I raised my hand back to her head trying to soothe her.
“Not her! The baby!” Heather made me jump, but I settled my hands back over the baby. The stretched skin of Agnese’s tummy was shiny and smooth. Blocking distracting thoughts, I searched out that golden liquid glow, finding it hidden, waiting within my veins. When Agnes screamed I concentrated on the gold, willing it to travel to my palms.
Agnese reared off the bed. The village woman, whose face I couldn’t see—so focused as we were on Agnese—stepped up and mopped her brow.
“Good,” Heather cried. Ducking her head between Agnese legs, she assessed the situation. “Come on, Aggie, another nice big push.”
The poor woman covered in sweat cried, her lips trembling. “No, I can’t.”
Heather wasn’t having that. “Of course you can; even My Lady is here to help. You must push.”
Agnese’s eyes flew open and a burn carried up my cheeks. “Don’t worry about anything, Aggie. Let’s get this baby born.” I tried to soothe her, the whole time watching Heather take up position as if she were attempting to catch a flaming arrow.
She began to pant again. I soothed my hands, crooning to the bump. Under the skin, a kick met my hands. “That’s fine, little one. You wiggle around, you have plenty of room.”
Astounded, I watched as a ripple shifted under the stretched parchment of Agnese’s tummy, rolling under my hands with a firm push.
“That’s it,” Heather cried. “That’s it, two more pushes.”
Agnese wasn’t thrilled at this news, another broad oath making its way to our ears. But the baby had a mind its own. Three screams, pushes, and vivid words later, and he squirmed his way into Heather’s outstretched hands.
My eyes filled with tears. Purple, and yelling for attention, the little scrap didn’t look like it should have caused as much pain as it had.
Agnese began to pale, her skin sheening with sweat. Heather glanced up and frowned. “My Lady, if you wouldn’t mind.” She nodded at Agnese and instinctively I stepped forward, smoothing my hands around her face once more. I whispered, but what I muttered I didn’t know. It was nothing my father had taught me. When Agnese opened her eyes, and met my gaze, I breathed a thankful sigh of relief. “Your son, My Lady.” I dropped the brave woman a curtsey as Heather stepped up with the hollering and distraught newborn.
Agnese clutched him to her breast and he suckled, rooting for her bosom. Slowly, I slipped away, edging backwards out of the door.
“Thank you, My Lady.” Heather’s eyes met mine, cool and direct.
“I was merely a bystander to your skill.” I bobbed her a curtsey and the old woman flushed, pushing at her wet hair with an arm. She gave me a smile, but I sensed in her glance I’d be having a conversation with her before long.
Outside the air was cool and refreshing, and the crisp evening chill refreshed my lungs.
“My Lady.” I started at the voice behind me, but when a playful hand snaked around my waist I relaxed.
“Tristram, you shocked the life out of me.”
I turned to face the younger son of our lord and chief. “Any excuse to be close to you.” His eyes burned, and I dipped my gaze.
“Tristram!” The deep timbre, familiar to everyone living in the settlement, boomed through the chilling air. Tristram’s gaze held my own before a lightning quick smile flashed across his face.
“Father.” He held his hands wide as he opened his arms in greeting. I cast my own gaze towards Alen, our chief, not surprised to see him flanked by his high priest in his flowing white robes. Making eye contact with the spiritual leader of our clan, I made my way
