“The baby certainly is a sound sleeper,” I said. Its small, sleeping form reminded me of Kamil, which brought a smile to my face.
...This baby’s cute too, but my little Kamil is way, way cuter. No doubt about it.
“We are fine as long as it stays asleep, but I do not know what to do when it awakes. There are no longer any gray shrine maidens here who have given birth. What shall we do without anyone to give the baby milk...?” asked Wilma.
In the past, a baby brought to the temple could simply be taken to the cellar where new mothers and still pregnant gray shrine maidens could feed them. They would raise the baby like their own child. But now the pregnant shrine maidens were gone, and the accumulated knowledge they had shared in that basement had gone with them.
The remaining shrine maidens and apprentices were all younger girls who had never been involved in offering flowers. They had been raised in an orphanage, not having parents to tell them about pregnancy, birthing, and child rearing, so nobody knew what to do with a baby.
“Do you know how to raise a baby without a mother, Sister Myne?”
“I have read about goat milk being used by mothers who cannot produce their own. I believe it is better for them than cow milk. It will take time, but we should be able to feed the baby spoonful by spoonful,” I explained.
That was all information I had learned from a fiction book set during the middle of a war, but Wilma looked as though her entire world had been given light. Her eyes were shining with admiration and respect.
“I thank you ever so much, Sister Myne. I will prepare some at once.”
“We will need to prepare diapers and baby clothes for it as well,” I said, remembering what we had needed for Kamil, but Wilma shook her head.
“We have enough left over from when we used to care for babies here. We may need to prepare more at some point, but we will be fine for now.”
“I see.”
When Fran returned from talking to the High Priest, I asked him to fetch goat milk, at which point the baby awoke and started crying and sucking on its fingers.
“I believe the baby is hungry,” I said.
Wilma began carrying small spoons of milk to the baby’s mouth. At first it shook its head in protest, aware that Wilma wasn’t its mother, but eventually hunger won out and it began drinking the goat milk bit by bit.
Everyone sighed in relief at the sight. At the very least, we had managed to avoid the baby starving to death.
Third bell rang out. The baby flinched in surprise at the sound, but continued to drink the milk, having clearly prioritized hunger over surprise.
“Fran, let us go to the High Priest. Sir Damuel, I ask for your protection.”
The three of us hastily walked to the High Priest’s room. My urge to be a good older sister was strong in my mind thanks to Kamil being born, and it made me want to prepare a living space for the baby as soon as possible.
“High Priest, we have something to discuss.”
I met with the High Priest and informed him of the abandoned baby, then asked him what procedures I would need to follow and in what ways I should look after it.
“Can you not merely do as has been done before?”
“I’m discussing this with you because there are no gray shrine maidens who have given birth and raised kids in the orphanage anymore,” I said, and the High Priest widened his eyes with realization.
“So there aren’t. But there is no use yearning for what is already gone. I suppose there are always wet nurses... Unfortunately, I have no experience raising children either.”
“There are wet nurses we can hire?” I asked, my eyes shining. Having one would make things a lot easier.
But alas, the High Priest slowly shook his head. “...Only if we can find one eccentric enough to willingly come to the orphanage.”
“That won’t be easy.”
The High Priest had probably spoken from the mindset of raising a noble child. However, it was hard to imagine anyone in the lower city willingly going to the orphanage, considering how looked down upon it was. Mom might be willing to help, but that would have to wait until she was healthy again; I couldn’t ask her to come now when she was too weak to even help with chores.
I immediately concluded it would be impossible to bring a wet nurse here. For now, I would have to rely on my attendants to take care of the baby. That would be a big burden on everyone, but it was our only choice if we wanted the baby to live.
“What should we name it? There wasn’t a name on its clothes or the cloth.”
“You may name it what you like. As long as it does not overlap with any other orphan’s name, it does not matter.”
“Understood.”
Our conversation over, I returned to my room at once. The baby was in a good mood, having been fed and changed into a new diaper by Wilma. According to her, it was in fact a boy.
“We will have to take turns watching him. Wilma would collapse if she had to watch over him all on her lonesome.”
That probably hadn’t been a problem when there were several mothers and pregnant women in the basement, but none of the gray shrine maidens in the orphanage had dealt with babies before. They didn’t know how to handle one, nor did they have anyone they could ask for advice. I couldn’t ask Wilma to take on the baby all by herself when there was nobody else she could rely on for help. Anyone who tried that would end up overwhelmed and exhausted.
“He will beg to be fed during the night as well. We will need at least one person to stay up at night and one person to wake up early if anyone
