Chapter Forty-Four
The Farmstead in the Black Hills
Old Petro pulled his goat cart to a halt just outside the kitchen door of the farmhouse, where the snow had been packed down. “Yfin,” he bellowed. “Get out here and help the healer.”
Wethe rolled her eyes as she climbed off the cart, bringing her satchel with her.
Yfin ran out from the kitchen, his breath frosting in the air as he hurried over.
“Lad, are you already outgrowing those pants?” Wethe asked as he drew closer.
He got taller every day, lanky as a colt as he ran around the cart, his hands tucked under his arms for warmth.
His normal grin was missing and his shoulders were hunched.
“I’ve no need of help,” the healer told him, slinging her satchel over her shoulder. “You and Petro take these goats to the barn and see to them.”
“Aye, climb up, lad,” Petro said. “We’ll stay in the barn and out from underfoot. We’ll be warm enough out there.”
Wethe could see the relief in Yfin’s eyes as he did what he was bid.
The warmth of the kitchen surrounded her as she entered. As did the wailing of a child. The Lord High Baron was holding a crying Dalan, and confronting Aramal, who was standing by the hearth. Roth had Lara in his arms, clutching her blanket, her eyes wide.
“Can’t you go in there and help her?” Orval demanded of Aramal.
“Only if she was a cow,” Aramal said calmly. “Look, Wethe’s here. It’s going to be fine, Orval.”
“Wethe,” Orval pivoted, hitting the table with his hip, as Dalan wailed, his tear-stained face painfully scrunched. “Wethe, thank all the elements. Amari’s in our bedroom, she was baking bread of all things, and her pains came, and-”
Dalan’s shriek pierced Wethe’s ears. “Mama hurt,” he wailed. “Mama hurt.”
Wethe held up a hand to stop Orval’s babbling as she started to unwind her scarf from around her neck. “Now, Dalan,” she said kindly but firmly, catching the little boy’s gaze and holding it. “Your mama will be fine. I am a healer and I am going to take care of her, you understand?”
Dalan stopped crying, all teary wide eyes. He gave her a serious look. “Eel?” he asked.
“Yes,” Wethe echoed. “Heal.”
“Eel,” Dalan said emphatically and stuck his thumb in his mouth, as if the matter was settled.
“Wethe-” Orval started.
“Sit, Orval,” Wethe guided him to a chair.
“Why doesn’t Roth take the little ones to play in the barn?
” she suggested as she silently scolded herself.
She had a calming drought for new fathers in her still room; she hadn’t thought it would be needed here.
The man had seen the birth of twins, after all.
Roth nodded. “Let’s get you bundled up,” he said to Lara. “Maybe you can sit on the rams.”
Lara nodded. “Down,” she demanded.
Aramal already had their outer clothing off the hooks. He and Roth started to dress the children.
“She made bread, “Orval repeated, wide-eyed and trembling as Aramal knelt to put on Dalan’s shoes. “Bread, of all things, with a baby coming.”
“Yes, well, maybe you should go with Roth,” Wethe offered. It wouldn’t be the first time a father had fled the house.
“No,” Orval shook his head. “I want to…I need to be here.” He swallowed hard, looking stricken. “Something might happen. I can’t lose her, I just can’t.”
“All that is going to happen,” Wethe spoke to the man just as firmly as she had to the child, “is that she is having a baby. Again. No need to work yourself up like this.”
Lara looked up at Orval, wrapped in her warm coat. She climbed into his lap and hugged him, offering him her blanket. Orval wrapped her in an embrace, his face buried in her coat.
“You go with Uncle Roth, sweetie,” Orval finally lifted his head. “Go see the rams.”
Lara was out of his arms and toddling to the door in a flash, Roth and Dalan right behind.
Wethe took off her coat and moved closer to Aramal, giving Orval time to collect himself. “How is Rye?” she asked.
“He’s well, as well as can be expected,” Aramal said, offering her kavage. “I’ll go sit with him. Maybe the ruckus will rouse him?” There was an unbearable hope in his voice.
“Perhaps,” Wethe said with sympathy. “Best to keep an eye on him during all this. “
“Aye,” Aramal nodded. “But call if I can help.”
“Only if I need a calf turned,” Wethe said smartly, making the man chuckle. “Rosalind in the bedroom?”
“Aye,” Aramal said, then jerked his head toward Orval. “I’ll stay and keep an eye on things for a while.
“Good,” Wethe said, headed down the hall.
Their chambers were ready and warm, a fire in the small hearth. Rosalind was adding wood to the flames. Two baskets lay close by, warming for the babes, although Wethe thought the chance of another set of twins unlikely. Still, best to be prepared.
Amari was pacing, dressed in a nightgown, her hand pressed to the small of her back. She looked up with a smile. “Wethe, you’re here in good time.”
“How are you doing?” Wethe asked, placing her satchel on a table.
“Fine, all’s well,” Amari said.
“When did the pains start?”
Amari laughed. “I woke early, with a craving for pickled onions. The twins roused, but Orval was fast asleep. I gave Lara and Dalan a quick cuddle, and they went back to sleep. Felt the first pain after I sat down to eat, so I decided to start the bread, since I was up anyway.” She paused, wincing, hand on her belly.
“After the second rise, I shaped and covered the loaves and sent Old Petro for you.” She turned again and waddled a few steps.
“Bread’s probably ready for the oven. Rosalind, could you check—” Amari winced and gave a soft gasp.
“I will,” Rosalind said, heading for the door. “And on Orval.”
“Try to get him to eat something,” Amari called after her.
Wethe gestured her to the bed. “Poor man looks terrified. You’d think he’s never done this before.”
“He’s out of sorts with me,” Amari rushed to explain. “I didn’t let him know what was happening until after I made the bread.” She grunted as she settled into the bed. “I thought it was more important that he be well rested. He is going to need his strength.”
“Well, let’s check you then. See how much progress this wee one has made.”
Wethe folded back the nightgown. “Oh, it’s crowning,” she said with a smile. “Seems this one is in a hurry.”
“Really,” Amari lay back. “I didn’t think I was that far alonnnnnnngggg…” She clutched at her belly. “Orval wants to be here when—”
“Fine, but he had best not faint,” Wethe grumbled. “Was he this bad the last time?”
Amari hesitated.
Huh, most mothers would be falling all over themselves to tell her the tale. Amari just looked blank for a moment, then grimaced as another pain hit.
Wethe took another look, pulled the woman’s nightgown down, and made for the door.
“Best get the Lord in here,” she called down the hall. “Seems the babe is coming fast.” She heard the clatter of a stool, then Orval was limping her way. Looking grey and queasy, and opening his mouth to ask all manner of questions.
“Fine, all fine,” Wethe said, guiding him to the chair next to the head of the bed. “Now you sit here and help Amari as best you can.”
“How can I help,” Orval demanded as he sat down, withered leg stretched out. “What do you need, my love?”
“Just you,” Amari smiled, and held out her hand, which Orval took just as she gasped and heaved back on the bed.
“Oh, elements,” Orval gasped.
“Remember to breathe, both of you,” Wethe commanded, as Rosalind entered. “All right, Amari, start pushing.”
Orval swallowed hard and nodded. Poor man looked awful.
It didn’t take long after that, and with a minimum of fuss to Wethe’s way of thinking. The babe slid out as easy as any could ask for.
“A girl,” Wethe announced as the child’s cry split the air. “A healthy, strong girl.” She handed the babe to Rosalind as the Lord and Lady wept and kissed each other with joy and tears.
Rosalind set the babe in Amari’s outstretched arms, skin to skin, as Wethe saw to the rest.
Best not to let Orval see any of the details.
No fear, the Lord High Baron was too busy marveling at the baby’s tiny toes. “She’s perfect,” he breathed in utter delight. “Such a perfect, precious jewel.”
“Just the one,” Wethe said, after checking matters. “Let’s give you a few minutes with her before we get you all cleaned up and then the others can come in,” she said as Rosalind gathered up the dirty linens. “What will you name her?”
“We hadn’t decided,” Orval started, but Amari laughed, a low, tired chuckle.
“I think my Hearth Father just named her,” she said as the babe latched onto her nipple. Amari was stroking the tiny cheek clean with her finger. “Jewel is ‘Misalyn’ in my language. It was my mother’s name.”
“Misalyn,” Orval breathed, his face lighting up. “Misalyn Amari Orval.”
“We’ll be back shortly,” Wethe gathered up her bundle and motioned Rosalind to go first. She paused in the doorway to say a brief prayer of thanks to the Lady of Laughter for an easy birth with no complications.
She took one last look at exhausted mother and father and babe, all lost in each other and their joy.
She closed the door softly, and walked to the kitchen.
“That’s work well done,” Rosalind said, finishing at the sink.
“You’ll take word to the others?” Wethe asked.
Rosalind nodded, taking her cloak from the rack. Wethe stepped to the sink and started to wash. “I thought for sure Orval was going to faint dead away at some point,” she said mildly. “You’d think he’d never seen a babe born before.”
Wethe didn’t miss the slight hesitation in Rosalind’s step as she went out the door and closed it behind her. She nodded to herself as she reached for the soap. Ah, they had secrets. Well, that was fine, she wasn’t one to pry or talk.
She had secrets of her own, now didn’t she?
The End