The Midwife | 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
Text copyright Myrrh Sagrada © 2004
  

 he boy approached his mother's bedside uncertainly.

    "This is no place for a boy," Madame Argent snapped from the shadows.

    Beatriz roused herself. "Never mind, Agnes. Let the boy stay a while."

    "But Beatriz, a boy in a birthing chamber..."

    "I want him to stay." She reached out her hand. "Come here Jehan, hold your poor mother's hand. If I die tonight I want it to be in the arms of my one living child. God will allow me that."

    Marguerite wanted to reassure the boy's mother, but said nothing. She had not yet learned enough to know if the woman was really in danger.

    Dutifully taking his mother's hand, Jehan sat on the side of the bed, anxious and brooding, wishing his father were at home. He said he would return from Toulouse in time for the birth, but it has come early! Why didn't he hire the doctor's assistant from Quillan to come and stay with us? In a quiet panic, he began mouthing frantic prayers, his head bowed and his eyes shut tight as he endured the hard grasp of his mother's fervid hand.

    Meanwhile Marguerite had gone straight to work, opening her bundle and unfurling on a nearby sideboard a length of heavy linen that would soon display a number of the sundry tools of Celeste's practice. Smoothing it, she ran her fingertips admiringly over the cloth's once-colorful brocade, now inevitably faded from the weekly boilings to which it had been subject over many years' continual use in service of the healing arts.

    The girl unhitched from her sash the amulet bag Celeste had recently entrusted her to carry to birthings. She drew from it a score of rough, pebble-like stones that glowed muted colors in the soft candlelight; several tiny creatures carved from dark wood; a white shell; and a smaller leather bag, stained and smelling of exotic spices, which she held gingerly and moved with great care. She put each item down on the cloth, making tiny placement adjustments until she was satisfied.

    Her mother's familiar measured step sounded on the wooden floor in the next room, and Marguerite turned in anticipation.

    Celeste stepped noiselessly into the room, a silent prayer on her lips, her eye scanning the breadth of the chamber, lingering on each telling detail only long enough to note it. Her survey reached Marguerite's beaming face, and she smiled and nodded to her young apprentice.

    Madame Argent rose to approach, but Celeste raised a hand to stop her, and the woman pulled up short, her mouth snapping shut in a pucker. Daunted only for a moment, Agnes leaned forward again and began a rasping whisper, but the midwife swung round to face her and the woman froze.

    Deliberately ignoring Madame Argent, Celeste turned and approached the laborer's bedside to begin examination. "I'm here, Beatriz," she said.

    Behind her the neighbor hissed, "I've seen a fair amount and you'd do well to rely upon my experience, mistress; but I can see you are set against me, why I do not know. I've done nothing to warrant this rude treatment. I've even defended you to the gossiping old hens! Now I see you aren't worthy..."

    "Agnes," Celeste interrupted, "since neither of us is suffering labor pains at the moment, I suggest we halt this discussion about you and me, and turn our attention to this poor woman here. I beg you, allow me to minister to her. You may leave assured that I will send for you if I require your considerable expertise." She smiled sweetly and gestured toward the door.

    The woman gasped and turned with a flourish to quit the room. "It's a foolish woman who rejects wise counsel! You and your girl would do well to treat townsfolk as fits your position." Her stream of mumbled complaints trailed away with her as she hustled through the apartments.

    "Adieu, old crow," Celeste said under her breath, and shot a sly smile at her daughter. She turned then to her patient, whose frightful countenance, pale and distorted with pain, seemed to auger a great and possibly fatal struggle.

Beatriz moaned. "Something is wrong, I know it."