Marrying the Midwife (Below the Salt #10)

Prologue

ENGLAND, 1372

M argaret Whitlock, known as Maggie by her friends and family, made her way up the steep staircase of Ashenden Castle, extremely fatigued and finding it hard to breathe. She gripped fresh towels under one arm while holding tightly to the rope secured along the stone wall with her other hand. These twisting staircases were not only steep, but very narrow. And treacherous. Maggie couldn’t risk a fall. Especially not in her condition.

As her mother’s assistant, Maggie had been learning the trade of midwife all her life. Helping to birth babies came naturally to her now, and she was more than ready to go off on her own. Even though she was only six-and-ten years of age and much younger than most girls occupying this position, she still had the skills as well as the confidence of a much older, experienced midwife.

Today, Lady Anora Bohun of Ashenden was giving birth in the west tower. Maggie could hear the woman’s cries of pain from the room at the top of the stairs. Assisting with births was nothing new for Maggie. She’d been present at the births of hundreds of babies of servants, townsfolk, and even nobles, ever since she was the precious age of six. Her mother, Margaret, whom Maggie was named after, was known throughout the land as one of the best and most sought-after midwives. Maggie was also her mother’s only daughter. It was evident that she would one day take up the trade, following in her mother’s footsteps like all of her ancestors had done before her.

Even after the death of Maggie’s father three years ago, her mother remained strong, and carried on to raise and support two children on her own. Aye, the woman’s talents were revered by all, especially the nobles of the land. Never had Maggie’s mother lost a single baby through the years, and that was not an easy feat to claim.

Far too many children were lost at birth, a truth that deeply saddened her. And even if a babe survived birth, a good share of them died before completing their first year. Others might get through childhood, only to perish before becoming an adult. Because of this, Maggie’s mother’s skills had earned her good pay as well as an honorable reputation. Even if she was naught but a commoner. Her good luck, Maggie was sure, was because of the quartz crystal pendant her mother wore on a cord around her neck, that had been Maggie’s grandmother’s at one time.

Anxiety filled Maggie as she looked down to that same lucky crystal hanging from a cord around her neck right now. Her mother had been woken in the middle of the night and summoned to the castle. She’d left in a hurry, not even taking her lucky charm with her. She’d been letting Maggie wear it at home, insisting it would bring health and good luck to both Maggie and her unborn child. Her mother instructed her to stay in bed, but Maggie would hear none of it. Instead, she’d hurried after her to help her. She only hoped she wasn’t too late, since she’d stopped at the washwoman’s hut for clean towels, knowing her mother would have had no time to do so.

The door to the tower room at the top of the stairs squeaked open. “Oh, Maggie, it is ye,” said Lady Anora’s handmaid, looking as if she were about to go somewhere, but stopping when she saw Maggie.

“Yes, I brought towels,” Maggie explained.

“Hurry, please,” begged the troubled chambermaid. “Your mother is in dire need of those towels. My lady is bleeding heavily. I fear that something is very wrong indeed.” The chambermaid disappeared again behind the closed door.

“Oh, nay!” cried Maggie, stopping in her tracks at hearing the disturbing news. The rapid beating of her heart made her entire chest hurt. If the noblewoman’s baby didn’t survive, this could mean trouble for her mother. If the baby and the noblewoman both died, her mother might end up being imprisoned, or even worse, executed. Even if the fault wasn’t that of the midwife, it was she who would be blamed in the end. Nobles didn’t take kindly to these types of situations, and neither did they forgive easily. Maggie had to give help! Her mother needed her. She would not abandon her at a trying time like this.

Even though she did her best to hurry, Maggie’s own very pregnant belly weighed her down, keeping her from moving as quickly as she’d have liked to. In her alarmed state, her inner gut warned her that she needed to be cautious and put her own baby’s safety above all else. Still, she had to continue because Lady Anora was in trouble. Not to mention, Maggie’s mother didn’t have her lucky charm with her. Clutching the fresh towels, Maggie made it to the top of the stairs, waddling over and pushing open the door to the tower room, following the trail of the handmaid.

“Oooooh! Aaaaah!” groaned the noblewoman in pain, sitting on the birthing chair that was used by women in labor. She was a shrewd wench with squinty eyes and a pointy chin. Her black hair was pulled upward, so taut that it made the white skin of her face seem overly stretched. The woman’s gown was pushed up to her knees and her undergarments had been removed in preparation of the birth.

Lady Anora’s daughter, Beatrice, who was the same age as Maggie, watched in silence from the other side of the room. Three handmaids were in the room to assist with the birth. Lady Anora was too old to be having a baby, already having a sixteen-year-old daughter. This was always risky when a woman who was past her prime tried to birth a baby. The noblewoman leaned back on the chair, her handmaid supporting her body from behind. A cut-out in the seat of the chair was there for the midwife to work and grab the baby and guide it as it emerged.

Maggie’s mother Margaret was seated in front of the lady of the castle, her hands already in position. The midwife tools, which included scissors, trays, baskets, thread, and many linen wraps, were on a small table at her side. So were her mother’s healing balms and creams, made from herbs they had grown in their garden or collected together out in nature. Her mother wore the normal midwife coverings, consisting of a long white apron over her simple wool gown, and a small white cap that covered her braided hair.

“I’m here, Mother,” announced Maggie, her hand going to the crystal, rubbing it between her fingers the way she’d been doing for the past few weeks now.

“Finally,” snapped the noblewoman’s daughter. “You deliberately dragged your feet in getting here.”

“Nay, I hurried as fast as I could.” Maggie tried to defend herself to the horribly arrogant and mean girl. Suddenly, Maggie felt a gush of water at her feet and looked down to see her gown soaked. Her stomach clenched and heat engulfed her. This couldn’t be happening right now! Feeling the bile rising in her throat, Maggie pushed the clean towels into the chambermaid’s hands, grabbing a nearby empty wooden bowl and retching into it.

“How dare you get sick in my mother’s bedchamber,” said the arrogant Beatrice with her nose in the air.

“Maggie!” Maggie’s mother looked up in surprise and concern. “Why are you here? I told you to stay home today. You shouldn’t have come and neither should you have climbed the stairs in your condition. What were you thinking?”

“I’m here to assist you, Mother. Like I always do.” Maggie released a loud groan of pain and became dizzy, almost falling over.

Her mother shot to her feet and ran over to help her sit on a wooden stool. “Let me take a look at you,” said her mother, pushing up Maggie’s gown and frowning. “Your water has broken. You are in labor and your baby is coming fast.”

“Nay,” mumbled Maggie, shaking her head in denial. “It can’t be. Not now, not here.” This couldn’t be happening to her. It shouldn’t be happening. Things just kept getting worse this night.

“Midwife! Get back over here,” shouted the noblewoman’s daughter. “My mother’s baby is all that will take your concern now. Leave that common girl be. She is not important.”

“But Maggie is my daughter and she is in labor too,” Maggie’s mother told Beatrice.

“Are you denying to help me?” Lady Anora’s daggered gaze rained down on them now, causing the servants in the room to cower in fear. Beatrice strutted over to her mother, placing her hand on the woman’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Mother. If they disobey, I will be sure to make them suffer.”

When Maggie saw the turmoil on her mother’s face, she realized this was a bad situation and it was all her fault. Maggie’s mother had told her to stay in bed, and now she realized she should have listened to her. She’d made a big mistake by coming here tonight. Staying in their cottage with the neighbor women watching after her would have been a wise thing to do, because climbing the steep staircase had brought the beginning of the arrival of her baby. It wasn’t time for this yet. Nay. It was happening much too soon!

Her mother glanced at the noblewoman and then back at Maggie.

“Go, Mother,” Maggie whispered, feeling frightened for the first time in her life. She was scared not only for her own baby’s fate, but because Lady Anora was bleeding profusely and her baby seemed to be caught in the birth canal. Also, because Beatrice was threatening them. “Help Lady Anora, Mother. Take your lucky charm from me.” Her hand went to the necklace. “You need it to–oh nay,” she cried, stopping suddenly as she felt her own babe starting to emerge.

“I won’t leave you, Maggie.” Her mother looked down, trying to help Maggie’s babe be born. The pain Maggie felt was so intense that she wanted to die. Tears filled her eyes.

“Midwife, please,” begged the chambermaid wringing her hands together. “My lady and her baby are in peril. Ye must tend to the noblewoman first. It is your duty.”

“The king and our laws will it so,” screamed Beatrice. “Get back to work, now!”

Maggie tried to hold back her screams of pain by biting the inside of her cheek until it bled. This was Lady Anora’s chamber and she was a commoner who should be silent and half-hidden in the shadows. The last thing she wanted to do was to take attention away from a noble.

The room filled with wails from Lady Anora now, and blood flowed like a river. The extra towels Maggie had brought with her were already soaking wet. Maggie looked down to see that she was bleeding as well. The thought hit her hard that she might die birthing her baby tonight, along with the noblewoman. It was too horrific of a situation to accept. All Maggie had ever wanted since she was a child was to be a mother someday. Having her own baby was her dream. This meant the world to her and she refused to die and lose her child tonight. Nay, she would not give up. “Don’t let me die, Mother!” wailed Maggie, frantically clutching her mother’s arm with one hand and the crystal that was resting against her chest with her other hand.

Margaret Whitlock was experienced and usually knew how to hide any worries or concerns. However, tonight Maggie witnessed distress on her mother’s face.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, sweetheart,” her mother told her, with a kind smile that didn’t light up her eyes in the least. Instead she looked tired and spent. “I promise I won’t abandon you. Ever.”

“You will leave that common wench and come here immediately, midwife, or I swear I will have your head,” threatened Lady Anora, wincing in pain. The maids in the room rushed around in a frenzy, not sure what to do or who to help first.

“You heard my mother,” squawked Beatrice. “Get over here and help her right now! Leave that pitiful girl because she doesn’t matter in the least.”

Her mother’s eyes filled with tears. It was obvious she knew what was required of her?—

however she still didn’t know what to do. She had the choice to help the noblewoman or to help Maggie. She couldn’t do both at the same time.

“Go, Mother.” Maggie gave her the permission she needed, huffing and puffing with her heavy breathing, feeling as if she were about to swoon. Her mother’s fate hung in the balance and Maggie couldn’t let her suffer because of Maggie’s own thoughtless actions. “The noblewoman and her baby are more important. You have a duty to them.”

“Nay, Maggie, that is not true. You and my unborn grandchild are more important to me,” said her mother under her breath. “You are my daughter. My only daughter, and the reason for everything I do.” With the next scream of the noblewoman, her mother glanced over her shoulder once more shaking her head. Beatrice started to scream at her. “I’ll be right back,” she promised. She jumped up, snatching a towel from a handmaid and wiping the blood from her hands before positioning herself once again between the knees of the noble. “Handmaid, help my daughter. Please,” she called out, before letting Lady Anora once again take her attention. “Push, push!” screamed Maggie’s mother, but the noblewoman was too haughty and lazy to want to do anything for herself.

“Nay, I can’t push. You will pull the damned thing out. Get it out of me right now!” commanded the woman, as if she thought it was really that easy.

“It is your job, midwife,” snapped Beatrice. “Do what my mother says, I command you. If not, you will be punished severely.”

Maggie felt so much pain now that she could no longer hold back her screams. She fell off the stool to the floor, knowing her baby was coming fast and that there was nothing she could do to slow it down. Not able to birth it herself, she wished that she could, in order to allow her mother the time needed for her to give the noble her undivided attention.

“Something is wrong,” shouted the handmaid with widened eyes, helpless as she watched the birthing of Maggie’s baby. “I don’t think it should look like this, should it?”

“Maggie, I’m coming.” Her mother threw down the towel and ran to Maggie to see what was happening. “It’s all right,” she assured her daughter, relief washing over her face. “The babe is just being born face up, but at least it is not breech. Push, Daughter. Push hard. I know it isn’t easy, but you’ve got to help your child come into this world.”

Maggie did as instructed. With her mother’s help, her baby was born quickly with no complications under her mother’s excellent care. Through tear-filled eyes Maggie saw her mother cut the cord extending from the baby to the womb. Then her mother momentarily cradled her newborn grandchild in her arms, smiling down in love and admiration.

“Congratulations, Maggie. You now have a daughter of your own. And I have my first grandchild.” Pride beamed in the woman’s eyes. “She is perfect in every way.”

The noblewoman screamed again from the other side of the room, the pain too much for her to bear. Maggie’s mother quickly wrapped the baby in a birthing blanket and handed the little girl to Maggie. When Maggie’s eyes fell upon her daughter, she forgot all her pain and worries. Joy filled her being, and life seemed good again. Her daughter truly was the most perfect baby she had ever seen or held in her life. A few bright blonde, wispy curls graced her child’s head. A cute little button nose and sweet heart-shaped lips mesmerized Maggie, making her unable to look away. Then, to her surprise, the little baby’s eyes drifted open though she was only a newborn. Dark brown eyes, like the baby’s dear departed father, were a surprise, but a memory that would live on in Maggie’s mind forever from her late husband.

Maggie’s happiness of her newborn was soon diminished when she noticed her mother send one of the handmaids from the room. Beatrice glared at her from her own mother’s side. Then Maggie’s mother came over to her with a look of horror washing over her face. Usually experienced with hiding her emotions, this surprised Maggie. There was no doubt in her mind that something terrible was about to happen. Her mother actually looked frantic. And scared.

“What is it, Mother? What’s wrong? Why did you send the handmaid from the room?” asked Maggie, still cradling her baby in her arms, holding the little frail girl against the warmth of her own chest.

“I sent her to fetch Lord Florian,” she said, speaking of the noblewoman’s husband.

“Why?” asked Maggie. “Men are not allowed in the room when a birth is taking place.”

Her mother hunkered down next to her, speaking in hushed tones so only Maggie could hear. “Listen to me closely, Maggie. Take your baby and leave here quickly.” Her gaze flashed over to the nobles and then back to Maggie.

“What?” Maggie looked up and blinked several times in succession. “Whatever for?”

“Lady Anora’s baby is stuck in the birth canal and I am having a hard time removing it. Unfortunately, the child has the cord wrapped around its neck. Also, it is not moving at all and is not breathing. I’m afraid I am too late. The poor baby is already dead even though it is yet to be born. I will baptize it, but there is no hope that it will live. Lady Anora has also lost so much blood that I fear she might not survive the night either. That is why I sent for her husband.”

A midwife was authorized to baptize a baby if it was a stillborn or died just after birth. Maggie knew this. However, she had never seen it happen before. Never in the past had her mother had such ill luck fall upon her as she did tonight.

“They might both die? Mother, nay,” Maggie whispered back, not wanting the evil Beatrice to hear their conversation. Her heart lodged in her throat. “If that happens, you will be blamed and imprisoned in the dungeon. Or possibly executed.”

“I know,” said her mother, tears streaming down her cheeks. She reached out and caressed the head of Maggie’s newborn, giving it one last gentle look. Then she cupped Maggie’s cheek in her blood-stained hand. “Take your brother and flee this town and never look back, do you understand?”

“Nay, I don’t.”

“I don’t want them to come for you as well,” her mother continued. “You are a mother now, with a newborn daughter, Maggie. You need to give the child the best chance of having a normal life. Plus, Charles is still young and needs someone to watch over him. Don’t let the dark shadow of what happens here tonight hang over your head. You need to flee and live the good life you deserve.”

“Nay, Mother, don’t say that. I’ll never abandon you.” She reached for the crystal pendant. “You just need your lucky charm, that’s all.”

“Nay.” Her mother’s hand clamped down over Maggie’s, keeping her from removing the necklace. “My good luck has run out. Nothing can change the events of this awful evening. The charm is yours now, Daughter. Mayhap it will bring good luck to you and your newborn instead.”

“Mother, I’m not leaving you,” said Maggie stubbornly, not knowing what she could possibly do to help, but not wanting to abandon her mother in her time of need.

“You must go. Do it now, and don’t fight me about this.” Her mother’s voice was strong and stern.

“Midwife, get over here!” screamed Beatrice.

“I can’t and won’t leave you. You are family,” said Maggie, knowing family was the most important thing in life.

“Find a new family,” said her mother. “You must. It is time. You will need a father for your daughter so she doesn’t grow up without one the way you and Charles have had to do for the past few years.”

Maggie didn’t know what to say. Neither could she continue to speak because she felt too choked to even try. Her mother helped her to her feet as the newborn baby started to wail, pushing a small pouch of coins into Maggie’s hand. Clutching her crying baby to her chest, Maggie wondered if somehow her newborn understood what was happening here and felt the sorrow as well.

“Handmaid, go with my daughter and help her get down the stairs and back to the cottage safely,” instructed her mother to a second handmaid that was present. “My daughter will pay you handsomely once she arrives safely at home.” She looked back at Maggie and reached down to kiss the little baby on the head. Then she kissed Maggie on the cheek. “Goodbye, Maggie. Take good care of the baby and your brother. I love you all, so please remind them of it every day.”

With another scream from the noblewoman and Beatrice spouting more evil threats, Maggie’s mother turned and hurried back to work.

Maggie cried hard, struggling to walk to the door, having just given birth and feeling weak, drained and very shaky. She decided to let the handmaid carry her newborn daughter for fear that she might drop the poor child. Once at the door, Maggie glanced back over her shoulder to see her mother birthing a blue, lifeless baby with the umbilical cord around its neck, just as her mother had predicted. It was a boy. Sure enough, Lady Anora’s child was a stillborn. When the noblewoman saw her baby she fainted. Beatrice screamed and started threatening Maggie’s mother once again.

“I love you, Mother,” cried Maggie, seeing her mother turn toward her with pain and despair on her face.

“Goodbye, Maggie,” her mother called out. “And remember, never, ever look back. You need to move forward now and carry on with your life. Now go!” Her mother nodded to the handmaid who guided Maggie from the room. A third maid hurried over and closed the door behind them.

Today should have been the happiest day of Maggie’s life, but instead it turned into the most dreadful, horrible day ever. She wished she could do it all over again, because if she had stayed at the cottage like her mother had instructed, things might be different right now. If so, her mother might have been able to focus solely on the noblewoman’s baby instead of Maggie’s. Mayhap then she could have saved the noble’s baby, after all.

This was all her fault, Maggie decided. Without meaning to, she’d made her mother choose between saving her baby or the noble’s child. What her mother did, she did out of love. But that love was also the deciding factor of her mother’s doomed fate. Now, because of that undying love, Maggie realized she would never see her mother alive again.

Maggie swore that she’d never forgive herself as long as she lived.

When they arrived at the cottage, Maggie paid the handmaid and hurriedly started to pack whatever she could carry.

“Charles,” she told her nine-year-old brother. “Help me pack our things. We need to leave at once.”

“Where is Mother?” asked the boy.

“She’s not coming with us,” said Maggie, trying to stay strong so her brother wouldn’t be frightened. Her baby started crying. She made a sling out of a blanket and tied the baby to her chest.

“Is that your baby, Maggie?” asked the boy.

“Yes, this is my daughter. Now, hurry up and pack. We are leaving and never going to return.”

“Why not?” asked Charles, doing as she told him.

“Because, it is what Mother wants.”

“I don’t understand,” whined the boy. “Where is Mother? I want her to come with us.”

“Just do what I say and don’t ask questions.” Maggie hated being so stern with her brother, but there was no time to explain things now.

A knock came at the door and Maggie ran over to open it. It was her neighbor, Gertrude. The woman worked at the alehouse and was her mother’s best friend. She looked to be crying.

“What is it, Gertrude? Why are you so upset?”

“Oh, Maggie, I heard what happened. They are going to execute your mother.”

Maggie felt dizzy and as if she were going to swoon. “Do you know this for sure?”

“Yes, I saw the guards pulling her across the courtyard to the dungeon. She was in chains,” wailed the woman.

“Oh, Gertrude, we need to do something to help her.”

“Nay, you mustn’t go back to the castle,” warned Gertrude. “I heard the guards are looking for you and your baby as well. Lady Beatrice told them that Lady Anora and her baby both died because your mother helped you to birth your baby instead. They are going to execute your mother and then come and do the same to you and your child. Lord Florian has already given the command.”

“Please tell me this isn’t so, Gertrude!”

“I’m afraid it’s the truth,” she cried. “The nobles are blaming you and your baby for the deaths today. They say that it is only fair that both you and your daughter die as well, to right the wrong that has been committed.”

Fear coursed through Maggie as her baby continued to cry. She held the child tightly against her to try to calm her. She ran over and put her arm around Charles and hugged him to her side. “I don’t know where to go or what to do,” said Maggie, her body shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“My husband has a horse and wagon waiting. You and Charles and your daughter can hide in the back in the hay. He’ll take you as far as the next town, but you’ll be on your own after that. I’m sorry.”

“Nay, it’s too dangerous for Harold to risk his life to help us. I don’t want either of you punished because of me.”

“Maggie,” said the woman, taking her hands in hers. “Your mother delivered all my children and saved my youngest when it didn’t look like he would survive. I owe her this. You are all like family to me. I can never repay her for everything she’s done. If I can help you escape the same awful fate as her own, then I know she will have been thankful to me.”

“All right,” said Maggie, knowing since she’d just given birth that she’d never be able to walk fast or far or even ride a horse. She needed to take whatever help was offered. “I will go. I will do it for my baby and for Charles. But I really wish I could do something to save my mother.”

The bells in the castle courtyard started ringing in that certain way they always did when there was about to be an execution.

“It’s Mother, isn’t it?” she asked in a whisper. “They’re going to hang her or behead her with everyone watching.” Maggie was too terrified even to cry.

“I’m afraid so,” said Gertrude.

“I want to go to her. I have to be there with her when she loses her life. I won’t abandon her.”

“Nay,” said Gertrude, shaking her head adamantly. “Your cannot do a thing to stop it and your mother would never forgive me if I let you children watch her execution. Now go! Harold is waiting with the horse and cart. He will take you three to safety but you must leave right now. The guards will come looking for you soon.”

“Thank you, Gertrude,” said Maggie, giving the woman a hug. She picked up some of their belongings. “Bring whatever you can carry, Charles, but we need to leave right now.”

Charles left the cottage following Gertrude. Maggie stopped in the doorway to look back once more at the place that had been her home for her entire life. The fire still burned on the hearth and there were remnants of a last meal still on the table. Most of their belongings were going to have to be left behind. It pained her to do so. Her late father had carved the spindly legs of their eating table, as well as the birds and trees on the back of the chairs. Her mother always loved this table and chairs, and said they were her only and last remembrance of her beloved husband. The curtains blowing in the breeze on the windows were each embroidered by her mother’s hand. On each curtain her mother had sewed the names of the babies she had delivered throughout the years. Maggie didn’t even have a name for her daughter yet. She had so been looking forward to having her child’s name added to the rest of the babies that her mother had a hand in bringing into this world.

So many memories. Such a happy life. But now those memories would be naught but dreams, overshadowed by the new nightmare that weighed heavy on her mind. Maggie realized she would never be able to return here but neither did she want to, since Ashenden would only hold sorrow, grief, and horror for her from this day on.