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June 15, 1202
"Well... I suppose now I'll always be able to pester her about how I managed not to vomit while she was the one giving birth," Honora drawled, in some effort to sound exhausted but rather on the well side for a woman mere hours past labor. "In all seriousness, though, I hope she isn't ill. She's been green at the gills all week."
"Hmm." Nanalie eased her grandson's hiccups with a pat to his back, and eased herself into the thought of speaking of one of her twin daughters with the other. Honora and Nearina had an odd sort of relationship, too different to be often drawn to each other's company but quite aware of each other's deficits, each seeing themselves as the other's protector. In terms of anything that required any caution--in action or emotion--Honora was the expert of the two. But, she was not so in tune to her twin that she didn't need the occasional hint. "Nearina might be hoping she is."
Honora stood, lashes pried apart as the eyes beneath them bulged. Preoccupied with her own timely, convenient, healthy pregnancy, the early detection of someone else's less desirable one couldn't have been a priority. "You think she might be with child?"
"I think it's a possibility," Nanalie affirmed as she handed little Garrett back to his mother. Her second grandchild, her first grandson. It may not have been long before she had a third grandchild, possibly a second grandson. A shame, though, that such a grandchild--if there was one--would never know their father. "Oswald hasn't been gone so long that she'd necessarily know if she wasn't."
"I suppose you're right. Poor Nearina." Honora shifted her son into what he seemed to find a comfortable cradling hold and sighed. "If the thought's crossed her mind, I don't know if either possibility could comfort her. Either Oswald will have a posthumous child he'll never see, or she'll know for certain that he'll never have another child."
"Indeed. Maybe don't mention it for her; if it somehow hasn't crossed her mind, then there's no sense in us pushing it in front of her, especially if she's not sure how she'd feel about it." And she wouldn't. Who did, in times like these? For someone dealing with Nearina's loss, there were both too many feelings and too few to predict them all.
"Right. For now, let's just do like poor Asalaye's doing and... hold her hair back if we catch her face in the bucket."
NEXT CHAPTER:
June 21, 1196
"Look, if there really is a God, and you really did piss Him off, killing Rina would be the least imaginative way for an all-powerful deity to punish you." If Florian still had to explain things like that, then he'd failed as a father. At least they'd had Thetis. "I don't know, maybe one of these days you'll wake up with a pair of butterfly wings or something. But Rina's not going to die."
Severin squirmed, dull brown sleeve rustling against its dull brown tunic. Maybe when Rina did survive this dangerous pregnancy, he'd start wearing some more interesting clothes. "There are negative outcomes other than death."
"Again--not going to happen. That punishes Rina, not you."
"Oh, yes, because Rina's never been unjustly punished before."
"Hey, not everything needs a rhyme and reason to it. Maybe God got bored and left us for some other stupid mortal species, and now we're subject to the whims of chaos. If I were God, I would have ditched our sorry asses eons ago, and don't pretend you wouldn't have done the same; you're even more miserable than I am."
"I'm not miserable; I'm just pissed off." As if the uncalled-for thud of his foot didn't say it even better. Not that Florian much minded the motion. It wasn't his floor, and it was an ugly floor anyway. God, this baby was doomed to suffer from horrible taste! "Pissed off, and I'll be a wreck if she dies. I'll be a wreck, and she'll be dead, and I suppose Mother will have to take the baby in because I'll be too drunk off my own self-pity to even care."
"Not going to happen, son. I've had more than enough whining babies under my roof to volunteer to raise someone else's."
"Besides," chimed Thetis's voice from the opening bedroom door, "none of that happened. Rina's as well as any woman I've ever seen."
Ha! There was nothing quite like being right. "Told you. Now, have fun raising one of these perpetual noise-and-shit machines, then apologizing to me for your mere existence. Thetis, what kind is it?"
It was only when her eyes rolled that he noticed just how alike she and Severin looked. "The human kind, Florian."
Florian sniffed. "No need to be snide."
"Never mind that. Severin, come hold the baby."
He did as he was told, probably only because he'd been told, despite the fact he hated doing as he was told. The news of Rina's survival must have rendered him oblivious to everything else. Now might have been an excellent time for Florian to bury his face in Thetis's breasts. "Babies. I guess this one is at least half Rina."
Rina, Rina, Rina. God, Florian's kids were pains in his ass even when they were happy. "It's also half me."
"Nice math, Father."
That was Alina's voice. Florian scowled. "Alina, stop questioning my math and tell me what kind of baby this is."
"That baby, Father?
"Or this one?"
HA! Somehow, the world was a better place knowing that Severin of all people was now stuck with twins. "Both would be nice. Also, I think we've figured out God's plan for Severin's punishment now."
"I guess two half-Rinas makes a whole Rina, right, brother?" Alina teased.
"Anything that stops my eye from twitching."
That, apparently, did not. Florian rubbed his hands together in glee. "I hope they're just as bad as you two were. Now, what kinds are they? Same kind? Different kinds?"
"Same, different? Which baby, compared to which baby?"
Oh, that would have been too good.
Far, far too good! And not. "All right, now there are three of them? And I don't know what kind any of them are?"
At least he knew Severin was probably never going to loose that stunned perma-blink. "Three of them? Really? Three?"
"Three! Hooray, we can all count!" Three new Florians. Or Florianas. Or hell, they could call the girls Florian too, if any of them were girls. It was a manly man's name, but it wasn't ugly. "But seriously, what kinds are they?"
"Father, I think the quantity is the more pressing concern."
Quantity. Florian snorted. "Talk to me about quantity when you have thirteen."
"Most of your thirteen came one at a time." Severin finally managed to curb his rapid-fire eyes--shut. Probably because the inside of his eyelids was now the last baby-free view in his world. "Three. Three. I can't deal with three babies."
"Good thing you don't have three babies, then."
Severin's eyes shot right back open.
"...This seriously can't be happening."
But it was. And God... Florian fucking loved it.
"This is the best day ever!" His most annoying child, now the father of quadruplets. Or more? Nah--surely the world wasn't that kind. "See, that's what you get for yelling at God. Now, are any of you going to tell me what kinds any of them are? Or do I have to unswaddle them myself?"
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 12, 1195
Arydath stopped at the foot of the bench, her trek from the door of a slower pace than Nanalie recalled as typical for her. She may have been smiling or frowning, one of those inscrutable expressions a midwife had to adapt when the potential mother could have any possible reaction. Nanalie herself had studied under Arydath. She knew the senior midwife's ethics well, and those ethics did not include projecting her own feelings onto her patient.
In this particular case, Nanalie doubted Arydath was even sure of her own feelings. Lord knew she wasn't.
"So... I've checked the mixtures a few times now for good measure. It seems that, against all odds, you are pregnant."
Within Nanalie's own, Rina's hand shook. Nanalie offered a forced, but hopefully reassuring hint of a smile just in case her niece could see her in her peripheral.
Not that it mattered. Nanalie was not Rina's focus right now--and Rina was too focused, and too unfocused, to notice the subtle changes in the corner of her eye. "Oh. Uh... do you think it's safe, me giving birth?"
Arydath sighed. It had been Nanalie's second lesson: Never lie to a patient. The first had been to never make the patient feel afraid. Then came the third lesson.
Sometimes, you couldn't adhere to both the first and second lessons at once.
"I won't lie to you, Rina; your womb was in rough shape last I examined it and I doubt it could have healed itself naturally, at least to the point where a pregnancy would be sustainable. You said your last course was some time in the earlier half of September?"
Rina drew her hand from Nanalie's, in favor of a meeting with her other one. Her knuckles might have been those of a marble statue. "Around then."
"Was that course any easier on you than any of your previous ones?"
Nanalie took to running prayers in the back of her mind as she caught Rina biting her lip. Even if, by some miracle, the body could repair that sort of damage unaided, it wouldn't have happened in the span of a month. "...No."
"Hmm." Arydath pursed her lips. There was, Nanalie was sure of it, a course of action Arydath would have taken had it been her own self. In the same place--if she let herself think about it--Nanalie had to relent that she'd probably do the same. But, Rina was neither Arydath nor Nanalie, and neither Arydath nor Nanalie could much understand the inner workings of Rina's heart. "I suppose all I can tell you at this point is that I won't make your decision for you. It will be a risky pregnancy, but if you decide it's a risk worth taking, then it's your risk to take and I'll help you take it. If you decide otherwise, I'll help you too. And given how much you have to think about, I don't expect you to decide right away."
Rina's fingers fell to her stomach. A couple twitched at the contact as she swallowed. "Thank you."
"And if you have any questions or concerns, call on me at any time, day or night. I'll tell my household that you're welcome to come as you please. I'm sure you can expect a similar offer from your cousin Nata, as well as your aunt here."
To confirm, Nanalie nodded. She'd been a midwife in her own right for many years now, but with a situation like Rina's, she preferred that Arydath remain the primary authority. Still, Arydath couldn't be everywhere at once. "Absolutely. I can even come stay with you and Severin if you need me to."
Rina gave the slightest of nods, no doubt preferring not to think about what could go so horribly wrong that a midwife would be required to stay in her house. Arydath's eyes fluttered shut--no doubt not keen on the sight of someone in such a state. "For now, all we can do is try to keep you from miscarrying. Make sure to get plenty of rest and eat well, and perhaps cut down your hours at the bank if need be--and tell your husband to keep his hands to himself for the next few months. I'll meet with Aerina this afternoon to discuss potions and tonics; we'll both come by your house as soon as that's been settled."
"All right." Rina drew her hand from her gut and to her chest. Her heart, maybe--as if an answer lurked in its beat, waiting to be found. "Might I leave now? I think I want to be alone for a while."
NEXT CHAPTER:
July 26, 1185
"Lonriad! Glad you could make it!"
Lonriad forced a grimace and let Garrett embrace him. In truth, he hadn't wanted much more out of the day than to run around with his sons and drink imaginary tea with his daughters. But Nanalie was Asalaye's sister, and Nanalie had just had a baby the day before, and she'd sent word asking him to come and meet the new arrival. So, he'd come. "Nanalie and the baby are both doing well?"
"Very well." After Asalaye and Lyraina both, that must have been the relief of Master Indruion's life. "She's just glad it wasn't twins this time--though, this one made about as much noise last night as the other two combined ever did."
"Third babies have the healthiest lungs. I know Alina screamed the most out of my four." And little Honora never dared more than whimper if she needed anything. Almost as if she thought herself an inconvenience, the poor darling. "I hope sleep hasn't eluded you entirely."
"It has, but for happy reasons."
A lucky thing, that such reasons were not bittersweet. "Good."
"I should think so. Anyway, Nanalie's in the bedroom--resting, but awake." Garrett nodded toward the door--no threats or jabs about why Lonriad wasn't a worry. Unsubtle, but correct. "She'll be glad to see you."
"Likewise. And thank you." Lonriad gave his brother-in-law a pat on the shoulder, then turned around and made for the bedroom door. No lock hindered the handle, nor did any verbal protest sound. "Hello, Nan."
"Hello, Lonriad." She didn't rise from the bed, but she did pay him a tired tilt of her brows. Trusting as her husband, she had no qualms about him seeing her in her feather-light summer nightgown, and rightly so. Even if he weren't still plagued by the ache of Asalaye, the thought of Nanalie was no less repulsive than that of one of his own sisters. "Thank you for coming."
"No trouble. Sorry that I didn't call yesterday, but I figured your family would want their fill of the little one."
"You are family, stupid." Smirking, she pointed to the crib by the fireplace. "The baby's over there. She's quite anxious to meet her Uncle Lonriad."
"Another girl?" He'd hoped so. Honora would have a ready playmate in her little cousin.
"They do seem to be my specialty." Wives of crueler men than Garrett might have lamented such, but Nanalie's voice carried a note of pride. "Go, hold her. If you haven't dropped any of your other hundred nieces and nephews, I don't see why you should worry for her."
"All right." He approached the crib, heels dragging against the floorboards. One of these days, he hoped to muster the same enthusiasm he'd once had for being an uncle, but it would be one of many things he'd have to relearn.
Those little hazel eyes said that wouldn't be so difficult. "Aww, she's adorable."
Perhaps a little pale for an infant--not an unhealthy pale, but pale nonetheless. Her cute dab of a nose betrayed neither side of her parentage, and with any luck, that was Nanalie's chin her baby fat was hiding. The most precious bit of her was her mouth. Young as she was, those tiny pink lips clung to a default smile. "Does she have a name yet?"
"Uh, well... that's actually why I wanted to see you."
"Sorry?" Lonriad raised the baby to his shoulder and glanced back over at Nanalie. "What do I have to do with that?"
His sister-in-law pinched one of the laces of her nightgown and let it drop back to her still-swollen stomach. "I wondered if it would be all right if I named her Asalaye."
Asalaye. The name still hurt--just like the sight of her gowns in his wardrobe, the scent of her hair on his pillow. But each time he heard it, it stung a little less. He was healing--slowly, barely, but healing nonetheless. If Nanalie wanted to name her daughter for her sister, it was for love of both of them.
And what greater healer was there than love?
"Hello, Asalaye."
NEXT CHAPTER:
January 14, 1185
"Again, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."
Not that Severin blamed his son in the slightest for worrying. Given Asalaye's history of quick labors, Nanalie had spent the week of the due date at Lonriad's castle, but Nanalie was a couple months pregnant herself and her fatigue had been catching up with her; just in case she wasn't feeling up to it, she'd begged Arydath to spend a couple days with Feoda and Lonel down by the village.
Sure enough, about a quarter-hour in, Asalaye's maid had emerged from the bedroom and rushed out the door, only to return with Arydath ten minutes later. Severin had been telling himself that it was nothing too out-of-the-ordinary--just one young, pregnant midwife a little too tired to take the reins for long, summoning another professional for assistance--but of course the father-to-be would assume the worst if the most experienced midwife in the kingdom had to be called in mid-labor.
"If you think about it, I guess." The trouble with thinking, however, was that it was all too often overpowered by the heart. "And she's done this three times before, right? And if anything's wrong, there's not much Arydath hasn't seen before. I guess."
That was a lot of guessing--though to Lonriad's credit, no man who wasn't a doctor could do much more when it came to childbirth. Even those who were doctors couldn't claim to know much for sure. "It's natural to worry.
"Honestly, I'd wonder about you if you didn't."
"I know, I know." Regardless, Lonriad sighed. "How many kids before you stop worrying?"
"More kids than I have." A phrase that could not be used lightly. "I wish I could comfort you."
"No. You know better than anyone how pointless that is." His son dragged himself forward and rose to his feet with the mechanical lifelessness of a string puppet. The only cure for that ailment was a healthy newborn in the arms and a recovering wife in her bed. "I'm going to check on the children."
Probably for the best. The boys, at least, were old enough to understand that a new baby could be a dangerous ordeal, and Alina might have contracted some of her brothers' gloom. They needed their father, and their father needed them. "Very well. Perhaps get yourself a drink on your way back--calm your nerves somewhat."
"You've read my mind, Father."
Lonriad pained him one last strained grimace, then shuffled off in the direction of the children's bedrooms. Poor kid. Of all of Severin's children, Lonriad himself had been the most difficult birth; his mother had pulled through better than some, but the baby himself had lived an uncertain first few days. So far, Severin's children had been lucky in regards to their own offspring, but with the number of children Severin had, and the number of children some of them were bound to have...
If the probability of disaster always approached one, then with those numbers, it approached at a quicker rate for his family than for most.
Alina, if you're watching... well, you know this is our twenty-third grandchild. Twenty-third. Twenty-two births, no serious complications. Think our luck can hold out a while longer?
The bedroom door opened, and a slow tread followed the creak. Severin knew Arydath's well enough to know that it defaulted toward the swift. "Nanalie?"
He looked up. Sure enough, there she was, but she was alone. She held no red-tinged, swaddled infant in her arms, nor was there a smile on her lips or life in her eyes. God damn it. "Where's Lonriad?"
"He's with the children." Or most of them. Or--his heart twinged at the thought--the living ones. "Nanalie..."
One quick swallow, and her sleeve brushed her eyes. Oh God damn it all.
He got up and offered an arm to her shoulder, a little tentative, not sure if she was the sort who cared for touch. She didn't shrug him off. He wondered if she even noticed.
"What's wrong?" Was that the right way to start? But when she was this distraught--for any of the possible reasons--what could he say to comfort her? To comfort himself? "Is it Asalaye? Or the baby?" Surely not both?
"The baby's all right. A little c-colicky..." Another catch in her throat. If it wasn't the baby, then that meant it was the mother. Shit. "But Asalaye won't stop bleeding."
God. So much for hoping the good luck would go on. "Can Arydath help?"
Nanalie shook her head. "I don't think so. She slowed it a little, but she's already lost so much..."
She trailed to a sob and buried her eyes in her hands. She had no more to say. There was nothing more to say.
The language of grief translated poorly to words.
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 9, 1184
Nanalie had done her best to keep Rina comfortable since she'd brought her home from school. She liked to think the tea she'd brewed her had helped somewhat, even if nothing she knew of was a miracle cure for particularly nasty cramps. She liked to think that the heated blankets had dulled the pains, if only to a point where Rina could lie in relative peace. But she'd only been a midwife for a handful of years, and she'd been lucky enough that most of her clients had not needed her services aside from her standard aid with pregnancy and labor--and even if more women did come to call on her with concerns about the times before conceptions, or between pregnancies, it would be decades before she had the skill and experience of Arydath. Thank God Princess Camaline had had the foresight to send the Tumekrin boy for her.
But now that Arydath had returned from Rina's room, stone-faced and grim, Nanalie was no longer sure if there was much to be thankful for. "Something is wrong, isn't it?"
"Yes." It had never been like Arydath to sugar-coat. The jolt in Nanalie's spine stood. "As Rina's guardians, you and Garrett will have to know, and I suppose I ought to head to the keep and tell the baroness as well. But before I tell you, I want you to promise me that you won't hold any of this against her. Many people have fault in this, but after all my years of helping young girls, believe me when I say she isn't one of them."
From the start, she'd already known that much. But if she considered all the possible meanings, not one she could think of had an easy fix. With any luck, that swarm of early thoughts had been lacking. "She... she wasn't raped, was she?"
"Not so far as I could gather, but there's always the possibility that she was and chose not to tell me--or doesn't even know herself."
Nanalie swallowed. Many had no idea just how wide the scope of rape could be, the much that was rape and the little that wasn't. She herself had never considered it before Arydath had taken her on as an apprentice. Rina might not have either.
But if there was something else, something that as far as Arydath could figure wasn't rape... "Incest?" Rina did have an older brother. Garrett didn't know his nephew well, but he'd mused that the boy couldn't be any worse than his father. What would he have known, though?
Arydath shook her head. "Sit down."
Nanalie did as she was told. Her old mentor took a couple seconds for a well-needed sigh, then joined her on the bench by the wall.
"Rina is close to her grandfather, correct? Your father-in-law?"
Nanalie nodded. "Tertius. He had an apoplexy some months back. Felron's effectively been count ever since."
"And she wasn't close with any other adult in the household, was she?"
"I don't think so. You know what her father is, and her mother isn't much of a presence next to him. Her grandmother is a good woman, but she and Rina didn't always see eye to eye, or so Garrett said."
"I thought so. Poor girl." Arydath shuffled, allowing herself a brief but nonetheless noticeable glance to her own lap before she forced her head back up again. "I guess that brings me to what she told me. After her grandfather had his apoplexy, she felt very... lost. Almost not there, she said, like she couldn't feel at all. She said she wanted to feel something.
"Her older brother had been frequenting the brothels. Her grandmother didn't approve, but the rest of them knew and none of them made a fuss about it, and of course Rina knew that that wouldn't have been the case if she were the one fooling around. But she got around to asking herself why that was, and the only logical reason was the risk of pregnancy--is the risk of pregnancy." Arydath's fingers curled into a fist. There was little that angered a seasoned midwife more than men who thought nothing of sleeping around but dared shame a woman who'd do so to even of a fraction of their extent.
"But her brother seemed... relaxed, almost like he'd been before their grandfather had fallen ill. I can't blame Rina for wanting that sort of peace. She did some research, and while any source that isn't firsthand can be dubious, she did learn that she was unlikely to get pregnant from a single incident, and that pregnancy could be avoided if the man pulled out."
But for all she could have requested it, she couldn't have made him. "Who was it?"
"A guard who'd admired her. I figure you can guess where this is going. She told him not to finish inside her, he didn't listen. A few weeks later and her course is late."
She had guessed. But of course Rina wasn't pregnant now, and the apoplexy had occurred too recently for her to have had the baby. "Did she miscarry?"
"That would have been easier."
Between that and the other thing, it would have been. "Oh."
"Yes. She went to a midwife in a nearby village, but the woman chased her out--something about saving those mixtures for life-or-death situations, and some bullshit about going to God for mercy on her soul, as if He doesn't have bigger problems than the prospect of one unwed girl having sex one time. But the midwife's son overheard, and he approached her outside. He said his mother used to deliver mixtures using pessaries, and he'd learned how to do it, so he told her to meet him in their barn that night, and he'd help her.
"But the stupid boy didn't know what he was doing. Her courses returned, but she wouldn't stop bleeding. They had to call in a doctor from a monastery. She nearly died."
Many did. This was why Nanalie had never attempted to brew abortifacients herself, instead sending all who came to her into the capable hands of Aerina Frey, who'd trained for over a decade under her mother, the best Arydath had ever known. If Nanalie were ever shown a midwife who firmly believed that every pregnancy ought to be carried to term, then Nanalie would in turn show a liar, or a fraud, or someone who had wasted her life with an ill-suited career.
But a good midwife knew that terminations were best left to those who knew what they were doing. Even if a woman survived a botched abortion, she was unlikely to remain unharmed.
That was why Felron had declared Rina 'useless'. "Her fertility..."
Arydath shook her head. "The doctor said her womb and tubes were severely damaged, and Rina allowed me to confirm. Based on what I could feel, I'd be shocked if she ever conceived again--and if she did, it would be a rough pregnancy and an even rougher labor."
"And of course Felron would have taken that to mean she ought to be locked in a nunnery and forgotten." Monster. "What awful timing. Tertius never would have stood for that." But if Tertius could have, there never would have been a problem.
"No. Rina said her grandmother put up a fight, but of course her father wouldn't heed her." Arydath turned her head to the side of the couch and spat. During most conversations, Nanalie would have minded. "All too common in our line of work, aren't they? Men who think women have no worth except for popping out children."
"And sadly, women who believe it," Nanalie added.
From now on, it would be a top priority to make sure that Rina was not one of them.
NEXT CHAPTER:
