Chapter 7

The cart hitched, jolting Miriam up from her nap. She blinked in confusion, temporarily forgetting where she was until she made out Adrian's sleeping face next to her. Her hand shot out to shake him, but before she touched him his hand closed down hard on her wrist. She shrieked, too stunned to jerk back uselessly against his tight clasp. He released her almost immediately.

"I've hurt you," he said.

"Well, it's the last time I'll ever try to wake you," Miriam said lightly, rubbing her tender wrist.

"I'm sorry."

She pushed herself up, picked her way through the hay, and jumped down from the cart. Mrs. Dillon held the door open while gesturing frantically for them to enter. Miriam hurried inside. From the door, Adrian could see the ruddy glow of a fire. He sighed before following her. At least it will be warm.

The screams almost had Adrian bolting out immediately. It was coming from one of the rooms in the back. A young man was pacing the kitchen, his clothes rumpled and his face lined with weariness and worry. Sitting at the table, a boy was playing with wooden blocks. Miriam approached the man.

"I am a Healer," she began. "Your brother and sister-in-law came to the inn to fetch me. She said your wife has trouble with the birthing."

He lifted his face. "Thank the Gods, a real Healer," he rasped, his hands clasping hers desperately. "Me wife, Lizzy, had been at it for hours and hours. We found a half-healer, but she hasn't done much. Oh, my Lizzy! If we lose her... Gods! I dunno what I would do."

The man broke down, sobbing. Miriam patted his shoulder sympathetically.

"Mr. Dillon, please calm yourself," she said earnestly. "You are scaring your son. I will do the best I can for your wife."

"Thank ye. Please call me Matthew. We have na much, but if you could save poor Lizzy, we will be eternally indebted to you."

"Shh, don't say such," she replied. "It is my duty."

She disappeared into the hall with Murphy Dillon's wife, leaving Adrian standing awkwardly with Matthew and his boy. Though he did deal occasionally with the farmers on his estate, it was rare and strictly to discuss business. He had never sat with a farmer, watching his child build castles of wood while said farmer's wife was screaming her lungs out.

Making a mental note to gain more experience with interacting with common folks, Adrian started, "So, tell me about this year's crop, Matthew."

Miriam stepped into a stuffy, poorly lit room. She saw the half-healer holding one of her leeches to the farmer's wife. It left an angry mark on the woman's arm as the half-healer pulled off the leech. Miriam quickly grabbed the half-healer's shoulders before she could inflict more harm on the farmer's wife.

"We do not need your service anymore," she said coldly.

The half-healer was a croon, her sunken eyes lined with wrinkles. Her thin hair was scraped back into a bun. Gesturing with the leech in hand, she said "Are ye tryin' ta kill her? 'Em will help suck out the evil spirits."

"She will only grow weaker," Miriam spat.

Mrs. Murphy Dillon jumped in, separating the two women. Pacifying the half healer, she politely, but firmly guided her out of the room so that Miriam could get to work. Miriam sighed. There would never be a lack of fools in the world. Bending down next to the bed, she saw the farmer's wife, a girl not much older than her. Her face was white with fear and fatigue, her cheeks stained with tears and sweat. Miriam found the wet cloth on the nearby table, and gently cleaned the girl's face.

"I am a Healer," she said. "My name is Miriam. What may I call you, mistress?"

"Julia. Please, ma'am... please make this pain go away."

"Shh... you'll be alright. I'm going to take a look at the baby and see what is wrong."

Upon examination, she found the baby's legs dangling out of the girl. From what she could see, it is still alive. Hurrying to her bag, she dug out a packet of herb. She raced out of the room, only to bump into the other Mrs. Dillon.

"Quick, I need the men to brew this into a tea the color of resin. Tell them to bring it in immediately when it is ready. Then I need you to come back in right away to help me with Julia."

Mrs. Dillon hurried through the hallway. Miriam grasped the frame of the door, shouting after her, "Fetch me a clean bucket of water and soap!"

Miriam blotted Julia's face briskly. The girl grasped her wrist with surprising strength.

"Am I going to die?" she whispered.

"No, Julia. I'm going to make sure you live to see your babies grown. How many summers are you?"

"Nineteen."

"You will be alright, Julia," Miriam continued. "You're young and strong."

Her face softened, and she brushed a gentle hand across the girl's brow. "You've so much to live for. Do your best, and I will do my best."

She pulled up a stool and sat between the girl's spread legs. Her nightgown was hitched to her waist, and someone had covered her nakedness with a quilt. Lifting the edge of the fabric with her fingers, Miriam examined her patient. Two little feet were hanging out of the girl's womb, which explained the difficult birthing. Pressing gently on the swollen stomach, Miriam tried to feel the position of the baby. When Mrs. Dillon came back with the water and soap, she washed her hands carefully. She anxiously dived into work.

Birthing, Adrian came to realize, was a messy business. He watched the Dillon brothers paced the room helplessly. When Murphy's wife came out, they perked up. After instructing the men on how to make the tea, she collected a few items before disappearing down the hall again. Murphy swore before stalking out the cottage, muttering something about chopping wood. Pale, but less hysterical than before, Matthew set a kettle of water to boil. His son had fallen asleep, his cheek resting on the table.

"Would you be so kind as to deliver the tea to the womenfolk when it's ready?" Matthew asked. "I need to put my son to bed."

"Of course," Adrian said.

He watched the farmer pick the little boy up with ease. His chest tightened with unexpected pain when he noted the tender way Matthew tousled the boy's hair. Though he was young for being the King's First Counselor, Adrian was considered an old bachelor in the court. Ladies whispered about it, and each conspired to become his wife, although he had not fallen into any traps they had set for him thus far. At times he yearned for a family, a wife whom he could discuss matters with as an equal and children he could spoil. This farmer had not a fraction of his wealth or power, but he had what Adrian despaired of achieving. His service to the king left him with little time to pursue his desires, and from what he had seen of the court's ladies, he had not much confidence that his situation would change any time soon.

When he snapped out of his wandering thoughts, he noticed that the brew was the color Miriam wanted. He poured it into a mug and carried it to the birthing room. The screaming had not subsided, but it no longer alarmed Adrian as much. When he could see into the room clearly, his stomach lurched. As a youth, he had been sent to the border of Erythal to settle skirmishes. He had seen spilling guts, dismembered limbs, and festering wounds, but none of that sickened him as much as seeing a woman giving birth. He could see the waxy legs, and wondered how a woman was supposed to pass a baby right through. Miriam had her hand in the woman, coaxing the baby out. He saw her brows furrowed, her eyes intense. Her head whipped around when she sensed his presence.