Altered Destinies- Earth Reborn Read online

  A short way around he came upon a deep, cool, stone chamber. Though unoccupied, the door stood open. A familiar aroma of dried herbs drew his attention. A closer look inside revealed a long, coarsely hewn table covered with bottles, bowls, and mortars and pestles of many sizes. The rafters hung with dried herbs and flowers, most of them familiar to him. The walls were lined with shelves and he spotted a cot along a wall, and three chairs. Though this chamber was much larger than his mother’s at home he recognized it as an apothecary, where a healer would store and mix the potions and powders used in the healing craft.

  Bain had spent many hours as a child helping his mother gather and prepare remedies, so the chamber drew him in. He spent some pleasant moments sniffing at this bottle, that bowl, another hanging bundle. The tension began to seep from his shoulders and he forgot for the moment that he was a stranger and might not be welcome here.

  “Put that down. What do you think you are doing?”

  Bain almost dropped the sac he was sniffing. “Forgive me, I … ” He stopped midway in his turn; his apology froze in his throat. It was her, the woman in blue, Lord Danza’s daughter. But how? How here?

  “Who are you? I have not seen you before. If you are in need of my services ask now. If not explain your presence.” She stood in the doorway, hands firmly on her hips, feet planted apart, lips pursed and eyes – eyes that seemed to pierce his very mind.

  Bain took a deep breath. No point in dissembling. She will see through that. He spread his hands, palms out, by way of apology. “I am Bain, heir to Lord Makin of Marston. I sought to escape the formality of the Hall and found myself here.”

  He watched a flicker of confusion cross her face, followed by a disbelieving shake of her head, seeming even more angry than before. “Lord Makin has no heir … ” She stopped, eyes widening slightly then narrowing again. “Oh, I see. You are the bastard he has named heir.”

  The disdain in her voice rankled him just enough that he regained some composure. He squared his shoulders, then sketched her an exaggerated bow. “Indeed, I am he. My mother is a peasant, the best healer in all of Marston. I claim that heritage with pride.” He faced her, tall and straight, prepared for further insult, growing more indignant with each breath. “I would know your name as well.” He wondered if his bluff would work and she would assume he did not know her identity, dressed as she was like a common peasant woman.

  She studied him in silence, eyes still narrowed but no longer quite so accusing.

  Bain took the opportunity to return the appraisal. If anything he found her even more desirable in this plain garb and with her hair plaited in a single braid hanging down her back. His forefinger itched to reach out and tuck an ink-black, stray curl behind her ear. He closed his hand into a loose fist to hide the impulse, then tucked both hands behind his back and stood at ease, deliberately matching her stance but without the challenge hands on hips would imply. Easy, or she’ll have me thrown out of the fief and send me crawling back home in shame.

  But backing down was not an option either. When she began to relax a little and looked about to speak again he plunged in ahead of her. “It was my interest in the healing arts that drew me into this apothecary. My mother taught me a good deal as I grew up.” He took a deep breath and repeated his request. “May I know your name? You have me at a disadvantage.” True, as it happens. I know whose daughter you are but not your name.

  She ignored the question again. Instead her chin rose in challenge and she reached for the sac he had been holding. “Tell me what this is.”

  “A mixture of chamomile for calmness, sage for strength, and raspberry leaf to support the womb. Women drink it as a tea, especially when they are with child.”

  “Hmph.”She took it from him, set it down, and reached for a glass bottle filled with roots. Taking out the stopper she handed it to him. “And this?”

  He sniffed the contents and wrinkled his nose. He made a quick decision to meet her challenge as an equal and not a trespasser. “I would add mint to this, and honey to disguise the taste, though even with that it will still taste foul. It is valerian root, for sleep.” He handed the bottle back and watched as she replaced it in its spot on the shelf behind her. She began to reach for another bottle filled with what looked like tiny black seeds, then seemed the change her mind and drew back her hand. She turned to face him, still stern but somewhat softened in her stance and gaze. “I am Phaera, Lord Danza’s daughter.” Then, as if expecting a challenge to her declaration she resumed her initial posture, hands on hips, eyes challenging. “I am a healer and this is my apothecary.”

  Bain recovered quickly from this revelation and gave her his best courtly bow. “I am honoured, milady,” then resumed standing at ease and waited. This was her sphere and he an unwelcome guest. He would not presume to take the lead.

  She eyed him sideways, eyebrows raised. “I saw a child this morning with a cut on his leg. It festered and a red line was beginning to travel upward from it under the skin. What would you do for it?”

  “I’d lance the wound at the point of the worst festering, press out the pus from the top of the red line, and follow it with hot compresses of salted water to draw out the remaining pus. Then I’d wrap it in clean bandages. That needs to be repeated daily until the red line is gone and I see no more pus. By then the swelling should have gone down. When the redness and swelling are gone it will no longer be necessary to repeat the treatments and his mother can check daily to see that it continues to heal. She can replace the bandages with clean ones.”

  “Hmmm, perhaps you do know something about healing.” Before Phaera could say more a figure appeared in the doorway, a woman holding a limp child in her arms.

  “My Lady, please help my son! He burns with fever.”

  As if Bain were no longer there Phaera turned around, took the child from the frantic mother, and laid him on the table. She felt his forehead and checked his pulse with two fingers on his neck, her brow furrowed. Not even glancing at the boy’s mother she tugged his tunic up to look at his belly, asking, “When did the fever begin? Were there other signs of illness?”

  “Yestermorn he would not eat. I hoped sleep would have it pass and he would waken well.”

  “Has he drunk anything? Has he passed urine since yesterday?”

  “No, milady. He refused all drink.” The mother wrung her hands as she looked anxiously on.

  Phaera had by this time pulled the boy’s tunic back down and opened his mouth to peer at this throat. “His throat is very red. The pain is the reason he will not drink.” She pinched the skin on his hand and watched to see how long it took for the white colour to disappear. “He needs to drink.” She handed the boy back to his mother.

  The lad’s head lolled onto her shoulder. He uttered a delirious moan.

  “We need to bring his fever down and soothe his throat.” As she spoke she reached for the kettle already heating on a brazier and poured some water into a large cup. “This is chamomile,” she said as she dropped some dried flowers into it before adding a good dollop of honey. From behind her on a shelf she took a jar that held a powder and added a pinch of it to the tea. As she began to replace the stopper she spied Bain still standing, watching her. She thrust the bottle under his nose before closing it.

  “Willow bark, for fever.” Bain told her.

  A curt nod was her only response as she poured the cooling tea through a reed sieve into a cup with a long, narrow spout on one side. “Hold him,” she instructed the mother as she took the boy’s jaw into one hand, forcing the lips and teeth apart. With the other she inserted the spout into the child’s mouth and tipped a small amount of tea into it. The boy sputtered but was forced to swallow some of the liquid as his chin was too high to spit it out. When it looked like he might choke she withdrew the spout until he breathed normally again. This was repeated until all of the tea had been swallowed.

  Phaera held up the spouted cup. “Do you have anything like this?” When the mother shook her h
ead Pheara turned and filled a large jar with more of the medicinal tea. She handed that and the cup to the mother. “Then take these and bring them back tomorrow. Take care that he does not bite too hard on the spout or it will break. Bring the lad as well. Until then see that he drinks half a cup every hour or so. He need not eat but he must drink. It will help the fever and prevent him from drying out too much. Come back in the morning and tell me how much he has drunk and how many times he has passed urine. If he is not better I will have more tea for you. Also, keep cool wet cloths on his head and behind his neck to help bring down the fever. ”

  “Will he recover, milady?”

  “I am hopeful,” Phaera answered, “but you must see that he drinks this.”

  “Thank you, milady. I will.” The woman gave an awkward curtsy with her son in her arms, took the jar and cup from Phaera and left.

  “How bad is the lad’s throat?”

  As if having forgotten that Bain still watched her she whirled to face him. “It is very red and swollen.”

  “Then we must pray he does not worsen.”

  Instead of accosting him with more anger she let her shoulders sag and her face fall. “I fear for his life. His fever is very high.”

  “As do I, milady.” He gave her bow. “I can see that you have work to do and I have no wish to delay you so I will take my leave.”

  She gave a distracted nod, but as he exited the doorway she called after him. “I would like to learn more of your mother. You may return in the morning, early. Perhaps you will even be of some use.”

  Bain struggled to hide his elation as he turned to face her. “Thank you, Milady, I would be honoured.”

  Chapter Three

  HEALING WORK

  Before Phaera could give more thought to Bain a young girl ran up to the apothecary. “My lady, come quick. It is Mama. The baby comes.”

  Phaera looked up and gave the girl a reassuring nod as she reached for her midwifery basket, always ready and filled with fresh supplies. “Run ahead and tell your mother I come.”

  She smiled as she watched the lass run off. This was the part of her work she loved best. In the six years since she began assisting mothers with births on her own she had lost only one baby and no mother. The delight of seeing a new babe’s eyes open for the first time, of hearing its first cry, always warmed her. She loved showing first time mothers just how to help their babe latch on to the breast and see the mother’s face soften with tenderness as the little mouth found the teat and began to suckle. Even those mothers who had no need of yet another mouth to feed almost always had this reaction.

  Had it really been that long since Mergana, her old mentor, had become too frail to accompany her? And almost that long since she had died? I really must find an apprentice to assist me and pass on what I have learned. This work ought not to be done alone.

  She knew where all her expectant mothers lived and so strode with confidence to the poor cabin where the woman in labour waited. The husband, banned from this women’s work, looked up from his hoeing in the small garden, his expression full of worry.

  “Magda will be fine Jordie. This is not her first and she did well last time.” At the man’s anxious nod she ducked her head and entered the open door of the cabin. As expected, she found the woman inside, her small daughter at her side.

  “Bennis, do you know how to boil water?” At the girl’s eager bob of her head Phaera added, “Good, then fill that kettle and set it on to heat. Then you may watch. I may have other things for you to do.”

  The girl beamed, grabbed the kettle and flew out the door to fill it.

  Phaera turned her attention to the girl’s mother, pacing the floor and grabbing the edge of the table as a new contraction assailed her.

  “So Magda. Let us take a look to see how far along you are.” Phaera indicated the cot along the wall. “Have your waters broken?”

  “Yes, Milady. That is when I sent Bennis to fetch you.” Magda lay down on the cot as she spoke and lifted the hem of her gown to her waist, her knees apart. Just as Phaera knelt beside Magda and reached between her knees another contraction made her pull them up. Phaera waited until it subsided and resumed her examination, speaking calmly as she did. “It seems this one is coming quickly, Magda. It is eager to see the world. The pains are coming close together.” She removed her hand. “Three fingers already. You are doing well.”

  “I have been walking as you instructed, Milady.”

  “Good. That will help. Have you eaten or drunk anything?” Phaera took a listening horn from her basket, put one end to Magda’s swollen belly and the other end in her ear. As she listened the next contraction came. “This one is strong, Magda. The heart barely slowed down with that pain.” She lifted the horn and sent Magda an encouraging smile as she replaced it in her basket.

  “Will it be a son this time, do you think, Milady? Jordie would so love a son.”

  “We will find out soon, I think.” Phaera reached her hand out to help Magda up. “Now, you haven’t told me what you have eaten or drunk.” As she spoke she spotted a large earthen mug on the side of the hearth and reached for it to sniff its contents. “Ah, good, raspberry leaf and honey.” She handed it to Magda.

  “I drank a full mug earlier and ate a small bowl of porridge, but when I knew the pains had begun I left off the goat’s milk. I did put some honey in the porridge, though.”

  “Very good. Now have some more tea.” Phaera held the mug while she waited for Magda’s next contraction to pass.

  Bennis piped up, “The water is hot, Milady.” Her little face looked up into Phaera’s eyes, questioning.

  Phaera handed Magda the mug and went to check on the water. “Well done, Bennis. First we must both wash our hands. Hand me that bowl. Now, do you remember where your mother put the clean cloths I left for the birth?”

  Nodding eagerly, Bennis scurried to the only shelf with a door on it, opened it and pulled out the small pile of clean cloths. “Here, Milady.”

  Magda set her empty mug on the table with a thud as the next contraction came.

  “Bennis, come stand here and watch carefully. Remember what you see and hear. Soon you will be a big sister.” As Phaera spoke she motioned Magda to lie down again and bent to examine her. “Yes, this one comes quickly. You are eight fingers already. It will not be long now.” She turned to Bennis and took the girl’s elbow, drawing her close and down until her head was next to her own. “See Bennis? Look. It is time for the birthing stool already. Pull it out and set it in the middle of the room.”

  Bennis peered wide eyed between her mother’s legs and gave Phaera a frightened look.

  Phaera patted her arm. “There is nothing to fear, Bennis. Your mama is doing well. That is where the baby will come through. Watch and learn. But first go fetch the birthing stool.”

  By the time Phaera had once more helped Magda up the stool stood ready. Magda groaned and grabbed the table again.

  “I think it comes, Milady.” Magda gasped and another groan escaped her as her grip on the table tightened.

  Phaera took Magda’s arm and helped her down onto the stool. “Hold back on the next urge and let me see if you are ready to push.” She reached between Magda’s knees and found the birth canal. It still felt tight so she began to gently massage around the perimeter. When she felt the beginning of the next contractions, she said, “Hold back, Magda. Do not push yet. Wait until the next one. Make the short puffs, like I showed you.”

  Magda obeyed with moderate success as Phaera continued to massage the opening. It softened under her skilled touch so that, when the next contraction came she said, “You may push, now, Magda. You are ready. Hold my shoulders to lean against.”

  Bennis stood at Phaera’s shoulder, clutching one of the cloths she had brought out as if her life depended on it. Phaera made sure Bennis could see between her mother’s legs. With the next contraction Phaera took Bennis’ hand and guided it between her mother’s legs. “Feel, carefully. Do you feel hair?�
� When Bennis nodded, awed, Phaera added, “That is the baby’s crown.” She drew Bennis’ hand away when the next pain began. “Now open out that cloth. We will need it to wrap the babe in as soon as it is out.”

  Phaera had no time to see if Bennis obeyed as the head emerged with the next contraction. She heard a small gasp from the girl and knew that she saw it, too, but had no time to explain. The next contraction brought the slippery babe out into her waiting hands. Without looking behind her she said, “The cloth, Bennis. There, onto the floor right here.” Bennis obeyed with alacrity and Phaera lowered her wriggling charge onto the blanket.

  With the sudden cold air the babe let out a lusty cry. Phaera looked at the wide-eyed Bennis. “Well, Bennis, boy or girl?”

  Bennis’ fear seemed to flee and a delighted grin spread across her face. “’Tis a boy, Milady.”

  With the cloth under him so he wouldn’t slip, Phaera held him up so Magda could see her new son. “A fine, strong babe, Magda. “ Then she lowered the child to the end of the cot. “Now watch closely, Bennis. This is important.” She took a thread of silk, preferred over linen as it was less likely to cause festering, and tied it around the cord. Then she pulled a clean knife out of her basket and faced Bennis. “Would you like to cut the cord? Just here, above the thread?”

  “Does it not hurt?” Bennis had tears ready to spill over her lids.

  “No, Bennis, he feels nothing. This is the final step in separating him from his mother. ”

  Bennis still looked uncertain but reached hesitantly for the blade glancing back and forth between the babe and Phaera.

  “Here, I will help you.” Phaera placed her hand under Bennis’ and guided it. There she wrapped her own hand around Bennis’ small one and pressed the sharp blade against the cord, where it easily sliced through. “Well done, Bennis.” She retrieved the knife from the awed girl, wrapped it in a cloth, and placed it back in her basket.