Company of Liars (41 page)

Rodrigo frowned. ‘But you said the plate was in an unlocked box. It is what a man keeps in a locked box that –’

From the crypt there was a sharp cry from Adela and Osmond came bounding up the stairs. ‘Come quickly, Camelot, I don't know what to do.’

‘There is nothing to do yet. Just hold her hand when the pains come.’

Rodrigo and Cygnus scuttled to the door as if afraid they too would be called back down. Grown men who ride boldly into battle flee like startled rabbits when faced with the horrors of a birthing chamber.

Cygnus closed the door behind him, then opened it again and stuck his head round.

‘One thing I forgot, Camelot, which saint does this finger belong to?’

‘Whichever saint they're prepared to pay the most for. But don't get carried away, make it a minor saint, eh, Cygnus, not St Peter. That would be pushing our luck.’

It was a long day. The pains came slowly at first and Adela wouldn't rest. She ranged around the crypt, muttering prayers and even trying to conceal her pain when a wave overtook her as if, by denying it, she could prevent the child from coming until a more auspicious day. When by mid-afternoon the pains began to come faster and stronger, we made Adela as comfortable as we could, sitting her on
the upturned half of a barrel, propped up by packs under her arms. When the pains came she screamed and when they subsided she cried. Osmond was alternately pacing the floor and clutching Adela's hands as if he could wring the child out of her. He looked paler and more distraught than she was and his panic was doing nothing to calm Adela.

He reluctantly helped me to undress her down to her shift, but recoiled at the suggestion he should lift the shift and massage the base of her back and her buttocks to help ease her pains.

‘But she's your wife,’ I told him. ‘You've seen her naked before.’

‘You do it,’ he said, backing away.

‘But she doesn't want an old man, she needs her husband.’

He shook his head vehemently. A fleeting expression of guilt and abhorrence crossed his face and in that instant I understood what I think, deep down, I had known for many weeks. Only a woman's father or brother would recoil so violently from touching her naked body at a time like this. When Osmond climbed through that window to Adela's bed, he had not been a stranger to her. I knew now why he feared the baby would be cursed.

I had no choice. I did what I could and for a while it seemed to work. But after a while not even the massaging helped. The pains redoubled and Adela was straining to push. I felt between her legs and I could feel the crowning of the baby's head. Adela's skin was tight around it. At least the baby was coming out the right way round. But it would arrive soon and there was no sign of Cygnus and Rodrigo with the midwife. I knew that if this proved anything but a straightforward birth I would not have the skill to help her.

I tried to think. It was many years since I had assisted at
the birth of a child and I tried desperately to remember what the midwives had done then. Fragments floated back to me – a reed to suck mucus out of the baby's mouth and nose and something to tie the cord. That much I remembered. Some threads from a new clean cloth would do, but where were we to get new cloth? Something to swaddle the child in, we'd need that too. But first we needed the reed. I told Narigorm to run down to the river to find some hollow reeds, but she shook her head.

‘Pleasance already has reeds.’

‘Pleasance is not here, Narigorm.’ I snapped in exasperation. ‘All would be well if she was, but she's not. Now, please go to the river as I asked.’

Adela screamed as her belly was convulsed by another wave of pain.

Narigorm stared at her indifferently for a moment, then said, ‘The reeds are in Pleasance's pack. She got everything ready for Adela's baby weeks ago. ’Case it came early, she said.’

I didn't know whether to kiss her or slap her for not revealing this before.

Pleasance's pack didn't contain much: several packs of dried herbs, a few jars of ointments, the poppy juice sleeping draught, undergarments, and a linen-wrapped package. I opened the package and laid out the contents: a roll of swaddling bands, red thread to tie the cord – red for a firstborn child – some reeds, as Narigorm had said, and some agrimony to make the mother sneeze. There was also a knife with letters on it in a script I did not recognize and a small silver amulet in the shape of a hand with the same letters repeated on the open palm.

The afternoon was drawing to a close by the time we heard hammering on the door above. It was Cygnus and he
was alone. He heaved a sack of beans off his back, untied a wine flagon from around his waist and stretched his shoulders with relief.

‘I'm sorry, Camelot, we tried all the midwives the serving girl knew. They all said the same, any midwife who assisted at a Childermas birth would bring misfortune to all births she attended for the year to come. None would come with us, however much we offered them.’

He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘They also said a child born on Childermas will either die or take the life of the mother. They couldn't both live.’

‘Because they won't attend the births, that's why,’ I muttered angrily.

There was another shriek from downstairs and Cygnus winced. ‘How goes it?’

I shook my head. ‘I can feel the top of the child's head, but the opening has not widened any more for some time now. I fear she is too small for the baby. The pains are strong, but the birth is not progressing and Adela is exhausted.’

Osmond came running upstairs. ‘Is the midwife here?’

‘There are none able to come,’ I told him as calmly as I could.

He seized a handful of Cygnus's shirt and shook him. ‘You were supposed to fetch a midwife hours ago. What have you been doing? Do you want Adela to die? Do you enjoy seeing women dead? Is that what excites you?’

‘Stop it, stop it,’ I shouted, pushing Osmond away. ‘Rodrigo and Cygnus have tried as hard as anyone could. None of the midwives will attend a Childermas birth.’

Osmond backed away and crouched against the wall, his head in his hands. ‘How can I tell her that? She's already convinced she is dying.’

I glanced helplessly around the chapel, then my gaze came to rest on the painting of the Mary Misericordia.

‘Do you remember what Adela said on Christmas Day about taking comfort from the thought of Mary looking down on her? Perhaps if she sees the mantle of Mary above her she'll take strength from it. Bring her up here. The sanctuary dais is just the right height for a birthing stool; it could have been made for the purpose.’

Adela did indeed seem calmer when we eventually managed to haul her up the narrow circular staircase, but she was in pain and her strength was ebbing fast. We sat her on the edge of the dais. Her face was white and her shift was soaked with sweat. I tried everything I could remember: warm cloths on her belly; making her sneeze to expel the infant. None of it helped. I laid Pleasance's silver hand amulet on her belly and then gave it to her to hold when the pains came. She squeezed so hard it cut her hand, but still she did not open wide enough to get the child through. The skin between her legs was stretched as tight as a drum.

As dusk fell, Rodrigo returned, looking despondent. He'd searched high and low but had been unable to find Jofre, but if he couldn't find him, then neither could Zophiel. Jofre was wisely lying low somewhere until Zophiel's temper had cooled. He'd come back eventually, he always did.

Rodrigo was devastated when he saw how ill and weak Adela was. He drew me aside. ‘We must get the baby out. She cannot go on longer.’

‘I've tried everything I know. The opening's too small for the child to pass through.’

‘Then she must be cut between her legs to make the passage wider.’

‘You've done this, Rodrigo?’

He shook his head. ‘They did it to my lady when she was
in labour. I heard her serving women talk about it. Of course, I did not see it.’

‘I've seen it done once, Rodrigo, but it takes a skilled hand. Then if she lives, she must be stitched or she'll bleed to death.’

‘That I can do. I did it once before for a wound on my brother's leg, a long time ago. It is not the same, I know, but what else can we do?’

Adela gave another shuddering moan, arching her back. Sweat ran down her face. She was not screaming any more. She didn't have the strength. Osmond staggered away from her, running his fingers through his hair.

‘What am I to do, Camelot? This is all my fault. I should have left her with the nuns. I shouldn't have tried to help her. At least she would have been safe there. They would have taken the baby, but she would have lived.’

I shook him. ‘Enough!’ Then I added more gently, ‘There's nothing to be gained by blaming yourself for what's done, we have to think what to do for her now.’

Rodrigo said urgently, ‘You must cut her, Camelot, or they will both be lost. At least you have seen it done. Where and how long to make the cut, these things I do not know.’

‘Cut her!’ Osmond cried, gripping my arm, but I brushed him aside.

‘Rodrigo will explain. I'll fetch Pleasance's knife. It's clean and sharp.’

My hands were shaking as I descended the stairs to the crypt.

Narigorm sat by the brazier, her runes scattered before her in three circles drawn in wood ash on the floor. I guessed what she was asking them and I told myself I did not want to know the answer. I gathered the bundle of things Pleasance had made ready and walked back across the crypt
to the foot of the stairs. Above me I could hear Adela moaning and the others talking to her in soothing voices.

I stopped, one foot on the stairs, and without looking round at Narigorm, I spoke softly into the darkness behind me.

‘Will we soon be nine again?’

There was a silence so long that I thought Narigorm hadn't heard me, but when I turned to look at her she was staring at me. Her pale eyes glittered in the flames from the brazier.

‘If one is added, one must be taken away,’ she said, as if the matter had been settled long ago.

Then Adela will not survive this, I thought, and as I dragged my tired, aching body back up the stairs, I was aware that my hands were no longer shaking. Perhaps it was the certainty that Adela's life was no longer in my hands that made me suddenly detached and calm.

I made Osmond sit behind Adela on the sanctuary dais so that she could lean back against him. Adela held his hand and grasped Pleasance's little silver amulet in the other. We gave her a little wine which she sucked thirstily, but I wouldn't allow her more. She mustn't be so dulled that she could not push. We spread the pile of straw that Zophiel had shaken from his empty box on the floor of the chapel between her legs.

Then I lifted her shift. Pleasance's knife was sharp and unblemished. I sliced the tight skin swiftly and surely, front, back. Adela screamed then. Blood flowed on to my hands and splashed down on to the chapel floor.

‘Rodrigo, spread your hands on her belly. When she pushes, you must bear down gently but firmly. Adela, push now, push.’

The head came free, purple and covered in Adela's bright
red blood. Red for the firstborn. I managed to wriggle one finger under the child's slippery armpit.

‘Again, Adela.’

She was leaning back, her eyes closed. She moaned through clenched teeth and shook her head.

‘You can, Adela. You will. Think of Mary, think of her birth, you can do it.’

She leaned forward, her eyes screwed up in pain and concentration. She shrieked as I pulled and the baby came slithering out in a gush of hot fluid over my knees. It flopped across my legs and lay still, the skin blue, the eyes closed. It was a little boy. He was perfect, but he wasn't moving. I put the reed into each nostril in turn and sucked out the mucus and then did the same with the mouth. But the baby did not take a breath. I took another reed and blew into each nostril – nothing. Into the mouth – nothing. Adela tried to struggle upwards, calling for the child, but Osmond held her against him, his head bowed over her, covering her face. The others watched silently as I tied the purple cord with the red thread and cut it.

‘Massage her belly to help the afterbirth come,’ I said as I picked up the baby by the ankles and gave him a sharp slap on his buttocks. Still he didn't cry. Cradling the flopping infant in my arms, I walked swiftly away over to the far window.

Narigorm stood in the doorway, watching. I didn't want to see the expression on her face. Without warning my emotions returned; anger swept over me in a wave. I could not accept this, first Pleasance, now this child. I would not allow the runes to win. I would not allow Narigorm to win. I didn't want to see that triumphant smile on her face. The baby's head hung limply over my arm. I began rubbing at the chest and limbs, as if I could rub through to the life that
lay beneath the skin and release it. Behind me I could hear Adela sobbing, asking over and over again why the baby was not crying. I rubbed still harder and suddenly felt a jolt beneath my fingers like a little hiccup; then there was a thin, piercing cry. I looked down. The baby's chest was moving, heaving in and out, his tiny fists flailing as if ready to fight the world.

At once the room behind me erupted with shouts and laughter. Rodrigo was shaking Osmond's hand. Adela stretched out her arms and I placed the infant on her chest. He was covered with blood and white mucus, but underneath his colour was beginning to turn pink. His tiny fists opened and closed as if he was reaching for something we could not see. Adela lay back, a wan smile on her lips, but her face was deathly pale and covered in sweat and I realized she was shivering violently. Blood was running from between her legs on to the sanctuary dais and dripping on to the chapel floor.

I looked back at Narigorm still standing in the doorway. Was she right after all, that if one was added another would be taken away? Was Adela about to give her life in payment for her son's? I pushed Rodrigo aside and began to knead her belly hard.

‘Cygnus, fetch coverings. Rodrigo, you must be ready to sew her as soon as the afterbirth has been delivered.’

I ripped down the front of Adela's shift and put the baby to her swollen nipple. They say if the baby suckles it helps to expel the afterbirth, but the child was too weak to suck. After what seemed like an age, the afterbirth finally came away, but the last convulsion of her belly took all her remaining strength and Adela closed her eyes and fell back into Osmond's arms. The silver amulet fell with a tinkle from her limp hand on to the sanctuary floor.