A Flame Put Out (12 page)

Chapter 12

Selia stood at the looms with Hrefna as the wind howled outside the longhouse. Another storm had hit shortly after they returned from Ingrid and Bolli’s wedding, and the snow had continued to fall almost without interruption. The wind blew the drifts in swirling fury, until they stacked halfway up the outside walls of the longhouse. Each morning the thralls had to dig the snow away from the doors so they could get outside. It seemed that spring would never come.

She stopped working for a moment and leaned back to stretch. Her belly was enormous, bigger than she ever imagined was possible. She pushed the bulge down with her hands as if she could make more room for her lungs. It was no use. She hadn’t been able to take a deep breath in so long.

The weight of the child put an unbearable strain on Selia’s back. She was tired, she was grouchy, and her fingers were so swollen she was barely able to weave. Hrefna continued on with her own work, her weaving perfect as usual. Selia scowled at her.

Hrefna gave her a sympathetic look. “It’s all right, my dear. Go rest if you like. I’ll keep an eye on Geirr.”

The babe was sleeping in the cradle Bjorn had made. No one had had the heart to ask Alrik to do it after he returned from the fall trip, so Hrefna had finally just asked the blacksmith. They would be in need of another cradle, soon, but Alrik hadn’t seemed interested in working on it. One would think the anticipation of the birth of his child would give Alrik something to focus on, other than the ale vat.

Selia looked toward the bedchamber where Alrik slept. He stayed in there most of the time, sleeping and drinking. Hrefna said he would come out of his melancholy with the arrival of spring. Selia could go in there now and lie with him, but sometimes that made things worse. Alrik preferred to be alone.

Geirr stirred in the cradle and cried out. Selia went over and peered down at the babe, and Geirr broke into a toothless grin. He kicked his chubby legs and raised his arms up to her, squealing in infant delight.

Selia laughed. “All right, little boy,” she chided him in Irish. “I see very well you’re awake.” She hefted him up—no small feat, as he had grown huge on Hallveig’s milk—and the babe snuggled into her shoulder.

Selia breathed in his sweet smell and kissed the top of his fuzzy head. She had grown to love this child, and indeed couldn’t imagine loving her own child any more than she did Geirr. How could she have known she would feel a mother’s love for her stepson?

Just at that moment, something shifted uncomfortably inside of her, followed by a sudden feeling of unbearable pressure. Selia nearly dropped the babe. There was a sensation—or maybe a sound—of something popping, then a hot gush of water down her leg.

Was Geirr urinating on her? Selia held him at arms’ length but it was clear he was dry. Was she urinating on herself? The water was definitely coming from her. “Hrefna!” Selia shouted in confusion.

Hrefna rushed over, gasping as she saw the puddle at Selia’s feet. Taking Geirr, she yelled over her shoulder for Keir, who was working in the kitchen.

“What is happening, Hrefna?” Try as she might, Selia couldn’t keep the panic at bay. It was hard to not feel fright when it was so obvious Hrefna was panicking.

“The babe is coming, child.”

“No, no. It is too soon,” Selia argued.

Keir hurried to them, wiping her hands on a rag. “Yes, Mistress?” she said to Hrefna.

“Find Hallveig and have her take Geirr. Then come back immediately and help me prepare for the babe. It is coming.”

Keir’s eyes grew wide. She nodded and ran for the door.

“No, Hrefna,” Selia protested. She stomped her foot for emphasis. “The babe is not coming. It is not time.”

Hrefna gave her a stern look. “Selia. That water you’re standing in came from the sac around the child. Once it is broken the child will be born. There is nothing else to be done.”

Selia stared at Hrefna as the words sank in. It was coming. She was having a babe, right now. A vision of Muirin arose in her mind, screaming, eyes wild with pain, as Geirr was ripped from her body. And another vision of Muirin, cold and still on a bed of bloody straw as her dead eyes stared into nothingness.

Selia began to shake as the room spun around her. She wasn’t ready. She was supposed to have more time to prepare. What if she couldn’t do it? What if Hrefna had to rip her apart to get the child out? What if she died tonight?

“Breathe, my girl,” Hrefna urged. She gripped Selia’s arm to keep her from falling. “Sit here on this bench. Lie down if you feel faint. I’m going to wake Alrik.”

Hrefna hurried off with Geirr in her arms. Selia sank to the bench and shivered. Her shoes and part of her gown were wet, and cold. Maybe she should change her clothes. No, Muirin had been naked when she gave birth. Surely Selia wouldn’t be expected to squat down on the floor like an animal, naked and exposed?

A sudden, intense spasm in her back took her breath. Selia gripped the edge of the bench until the spasm passed, as quickly as it had come. It reminded her of the pains she had felt when she had nearly bled the child out in the woods. It seemed so long ago.

This was real. It was happening.

The bedchamber door opened and Alrik staggered out, with Hrefna behind him. Disheveled and bleary-eyed, still a look of worry creased his face. He knew the child was coming too early.

Alrik knelt in front of Selia. His big hand was gentle as he smoothed a lock of hair away from her face. Selia met his gaze and her tears welled over. “I cannot do this, Alrik.”

He shushed her. “You can. You can and you will.”

“I do not want to die like Muirin!”

Alrik scowled. “Do not speak of such things. You are strong, Selia. You are unbreakable.”

Selia threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. He smelled like the bottom of the ale vat, but she didn’t care. If Alrik’s child killed her, this would be the last time she would be with him.

Her tears fell in earnest now. “I love you,” she sobbed.

The sob turned to a scream as another pain hit her, and her fingers dug into Alrik’s shoulders. Alrik held her tightly. “Do something, Hrefna,” he begged. The fear in his voice made Selia cry harder.

Hrefna was brisk. “Selia Niallsdottir, you could cry an ocean of tears and it wouldn’t stop that babe from coming. There is no sense in wasting your energy on worry.” She thrust Geirr into Alrik’s arms. “Hold your son,” she ordered. “Hallveig will be here soon to take him. I need to get Selia out of those wet clothes.”

Selia sniffled as Hrefna led her into the bedchamber, then handed her a clean shift and instructed her to put it on. She pulled a bale of straw into the middle of the room and cut the binding. The straw had been placed in the corner some time ago, just for this purpose, and had been there for so long Selia had stopped noticing it. Hrefna fluffed it out onto the floor and laid a blanket on top.

Another pain came and Selia doubled over, gripping the bed. This one seemed to last longer, radiating from her back to her belly, and she was panting as it finally passed.

Hrefna frowned. “Those are coming fast. Get into the bed and let me check you.”

Selia did as instructed. Hrefna’s probing fingers were uncomfortable and Selia flinched and tried to pull away. But Hrefna’s other hand pressed on her belly, feeling for the position of the babe. Hrefna’s face was grim as she finally withdrew her hand.

“This isn’t going to take long, child,” she said. “You are nearly ready.”

“What?” Selia cried. How could this be? Muirin’s labor had seemed endless. Yet Selia’s first pain had come on fast. “Is something wrong?”

Another pain slammed into her. Selia screamed and drew her legs up toward her chest. It didn’t help. The pain lasted a long time, and as it crested Selia could do nothing but whimper. Just when she thought she could take no more, it finally passed.

An awful restlessness enveloped her. She needed to move. No, not just move—she needed to run away. Her body had betrayed her and she needed to get away from it. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She was supposed to have more time. The next pain hit hard and Selia wailed. They were coming one right after the other, with no time in between to even catch her breath.

“Help me, Hrefna! Make it stop,” Selia sobbed. Hrefna looked confused and Selia realized she had spoken in Irish.

Keir rushed into the room and stopped short as she saw Selia. Hrefna snapped at her. “Don’t just stand there, girl, help me get her onto the floor.”

The women each took hold of one of Selia’s arms and led her toward the bed of straw. Another pain hit and Selia stumbled down onto her hands and knees. She rocked back and forth, and a sound came out of her mouth that started as a scream and ended in a grunt. Why, oh why was this so awful? All women had to pay the price for Eve’s original sin, but this seemed too much. She could not bear it. What had she done to deserve this additional punishment? “No!” Selia again spoke in Irish. “I don’t want to do this!”

Selia felt Hrefna lift the back of her shift up higher on her hips to keep it out of the way. Her hand paused for a moment, and her voice was strangely calm as she finally spoke. “Selia. I can see the babe’s head. You must not push until I tell you to or you will rip. Do you understand?”

Selia wailed.
Rip
. Just like Muirin. Hrefna knew there was no way she could get this child out without tearing Selia apart. Her worst fears had been confirmed.

The vise around her midsection squeezed again, pushing on its own as if it would expel the babe from her body with no regard for Hrefna’s warning. “Don’t push!” Hrefna cried.

She wasn’t pushing. The child was propelling itself out, forcing its way through her flesh. Selia felt as if her hipbones would snap. A primal, animalistic sound came from her lungs that horrified her almost as much as the child trying to burst from her. She had completely lost control of her body.

“No, no, no, no,
no
!” Selia screamed as she was torn in two. She leaned into Keir, panting, as the pain passed.

“The head is out,” Hrefna said. “But the shoulders are large—”

The vise clamped down again. It pushed and squeezed, trying to force the babe out, but nothing happened. Her body was blocking it. She was too small; her hips were caging the child in. The pain grew intolerable and Selia screamed as every part of her mind and body focused on releasing the child from her. “
Pull it out.
Pull it out, Hrefna!
I can’t do this!”

She had spoken in Irish and Keir had to translate for Hrefna. Hrefna cursed and stood up. “Help me get her into a squat, Keir,” she directed. “Quickly!”

Selia moaned as they shifted her. She squatted, hips stretched wide, with Keir in front and Hrefna behind. Selia sobbed as she felt the pain coming again. “Make it stop,” she begged.

Keir put a hand on Selia’s face and looked directly into her eyes, as she never had done before. She spoke to Selia in Irish. “Mistress, it is almost over. One more push and the child will be born.”

The vise squeezed and Selia bore down. White-hot pain exploded through her loins as Hrefna manipulated the babe’s shoulders. A sensation of unbearable pressure, of bone grinding against bone, forced a scream from Selia’s throat as she pushed with every ounce of strength she had.

Suddenly the babe expelled from her body. Selia sobbed with relief as she sank into the straw. It was over.

The child let loose a lusty cry and Hrefna laughed. “It is a boy.”

Selia raised her head wearily as Hrefna wrapped the child in a blanket. “Is he all right?” He had been born so quickly, and too early at that.

“Yes,” Hrefna said. “A bit small, but otherwise perfect.” The child wailed again and Hrefna gazed down at him with approval. “And he has a good set of healthy lungs.”

“Let me hold him.”

“You’re not finished yet, child. You must deliver the afterbirth and then we must stitch you up.”

But Selia crawled over to Hrefna and pulled the edge of the blanket down. The babe was very small, only half the size Geirr had been. He had a dark shock of hair, matted to his head with a bloody fluid. Selia opened the blanket all the way and examined his skinny limbs and his tiny penis. The babe screamed in fury at the cold, but Selia smiled. He was intact. He was perfect. She had given Alrik a healthy child. She had given him a son.

And she had survived.

Selia woke some time later, in the bed, warm and dry in a fresh shift. Hrefna had given her some tea before she stitched her up and it must have made her fall asleep.

She sat up, wincing. It felt as though there was a hot iron between her legs. Where was the babe? She patted the blankets, suddenly terrified that he had been in the bed with her and she had smothered him. “Hrefna?” she called out.

There was no answer. The house was quiet. Had something happened? The stories Eithne had told of Finngalls taking their children to a wolf den for inspection flooded Selia’s mind. Surely those stories had been fabricated. No one had taken Geirr away to be suckled by a she-wolf after he had been born. It was only a silly story.

God forbid, had the child died? Had Odin demanded his blood sacrifice after all? An irrational terror overtook her. “Hrefna!” Selia cried.

Again there was no answer, but Selia heard the faint wail of the child from another room. He was alive. She flung the blankets aside and hobbled to the door.

Hallveig was nursing Geirr in the main room. “Where is my babe?” Selia demanded.

“In the kitchen, Mistress,” Hallveig said. “But you should not be out of bed.”

Selia shuffled to the kitchen. Hrefna and Keir were huddled around the worktable as the babe howled. “What are you doing?” she asked, pushing her way in. The child lay on the table and Hrefna washed him with a basin of water and a rag.

“You should be resting,” Hrefna admonished. She finished the final rinse and wrapped the babe in a clean blanket. He continued to fuss and Hrefna made soothing sounds at him.

“He needs to nurse,” Selia said.