Read Online The Willful Princess and the Piebald Prince by Hobb Robin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Hobb Robin
Ads: Link
Those will win you a place at the Queen-in-Waiting’s side. It’s an old remedy. Tell the women that you must hold them for her to breathe their fragrance between pangs. They will strengthen her. Now, off you go. And remember that I loved you enough to do all this for you.”
I left her. Her words echoed an old memory.
As I trudged away from her room and then down the endless stair, my body ached all over and all I longed to do was sleep. Instead, I was thinking of how I would get in to see Caution and wondering how her labor progressed. I knew she had not had her child yet. When she did, every horn and drum in the castle would sound, and riders would be sent out to each of the other duchies. I clutched my flowers and prayed they would let me in. And I thought of my own child not a bit. Only later did that seem odd to me, that although I had felt him grow and move inside me, he had never seemed real to me at all.
It looked as if the entire female populace of Buckkeep Castle had convened on the stairs and in the hall outside the Queen-in-Waiting’s chamber. The signs among the gossiping knots of women were ominous. Hair had been loosened and sashes, too; and the laces of gowns and shoes were all undone and dangling. My heart caught and then surged painfully on. I knew what it meant. Caution was having a hard time giving birth. I hesitated on the stairs, and then a maid bearing a cushion with a gleaming knife on it hurried past me. I gasped and fell in behind her, carrying my bouquet before me as if we were both part of the same errand. The clustered women parted to let us pass, falling silent as we did so and then filling the air with whispers in our wake. As if by magic, the heavy wooden doors to the old queen’s bedchamber opened before us. The king’s men who guarded it lifted their crossed spears to let us pass. Unchallenged, I followed her in.
There were three midwives in the room, all wearing white aprons and with their sleeves rolled back. One was an old woman enthroned in a chair at the foot of the curtained bed. Of Caution I could see nothing, and heard only her harsh panting. The second midwife was a woman of middle years who bustled up to take both knife and cushion from the maid. She handed it off to the youngest, a matronly woman of at least thirty years. She dropped to her knees by the bed and carefully pushed the pillow and knife under the bed, promising, “This will cut your pain, my dear. A knife under the bed never fails to ease it.”
The second midwife seemed to notice me abruptly. “Who let you in?” she demanded, advancing threateningly on me. “Who are you?” The other two closed ranks like guards, blocking me from the bed.
“I am Queen-in-Waiting Caution’s handmaid, as I have been since her infancy. And long has it been promised to me that I should be wet-nurse for her child as well.” I lied with wild abandon. I would have claimed to be the king if I had thought it would win me a way to her side. I hear her long groan of building pain. My poor Caution suffered. Then, “Lostler,” she hissed, heedless of who might hear her agonized cry. “Lostler!” she said, more loudly, and then, as all three midwives bustled back to the curtained bed, “Lostler!” she shrieked, a drawn-out scream of physical pain and heartfelt anguish.
Her pain tore through me, slicing a new torment of my own. For she cried out for him, the man who had caused her all this trouble, rather than me, who had always helped her. Nevertheless, I held up in my shaking hands the nosegay of flowers my mother had prepared for me and said, “For long and long, the women of my family have suckled the children of the nobility. Many old cures are known to us, and I hold in my hands one that will ease her pain and help her bring her child into the world.”
The old midwife scowled at me: well did I know of her long rivalry with my mother. I had heard her say that cows should not give themselves airs in regards to matters
I left her. Her words echoed an old memory.
As I trudged away from her room and then down the endless stair, my body ached all over and all I longed to do was sleep. Instead, I was thinking of how I would get in to see Caution and wondering how her labor progressed. I knew she had not had her child yet. When she did, every horn and drum in the castle would sound, and riders would be sent out to each of the other duchies. I clutched my flowers and prayed they would let me in. And I thought of my own child not a bit. Only later did that seem odd to me, that although I had felt him grow and move inside me, he had never seemed real to me at all.
It looked as if the entire female populace of Buckkeep Castle had convened on the stairs and in the hall outside the Queen-in-Waiting’s chamber. The signs among the gossiping knots of women were ominous. Hair had been loosened and sashes, too; and the laces of gowns and shoes were all undone and dangling. My heart caught and then surged painfully on. I knew what it meant. Caution was having a hard time giving birth. I hesitated on the stairs, and then a maid bearing a cushion with a gleaming knife on it hurried past me. I gasped and fell in behind her, carrying my bouquet before me as if we were both part of the same errand. The clustered women parted to let us pass, falling silent as we did so and then filling the air with whispers in our wake. As if by magic, the heavy wooden doors to the old queen’s bedchamber opened before us. The king’s men who guarded it lifted their crossed spears to let us pass. Unchallenged, I followed her in.
There were three midwives in the room, all wearing white aprons and with their sleeves rolled back. One was an old woman enthroned in a chair at the foot of the curtained bed. Of Caution I could see nothing, and heard only her harsh panting. The second midwife was a woman of middle years who bustled up to take both knife and cushion from the maid. She handed it off to the youngest, a matronly woman of at least thirty years. She dropped to her knees by the bed and carefully pushed the pillow and knife under the bed, promising, “This will cut your pain, my dear. A knife under the bed never fails to ease it.”
The second midwife seemed to notice me abruptly. “Who let you in?” she demanded, advancing threateningly on me. “Who are you?” The other two closed ranks like guards, blocking me from the bed.
“I am Queen-in-Waiting Caution’s handmaid, as I have been since her infancy. And long has it been promised to me that I should be wet-nurse for her child as well.” I lied with wild abandon. I would have claimed to be the king if I had thought it would win me a way to her side. I hear her long groan of building pain. My poor Caution suffered. Then, “Lostler,” she hissed, heedless of who might hear her agonized cry. “Lostler!” she said, more loudly, and then, as all three midwives bustled back to the curtained bed, “Lostler!” she shrieked, a drawn-out scream of physical pain and heartfelt anguish.
Her pain tore through me, slicing a new torment of my own. For she cried out for him, the man who had caused her all this trouble, rather than me, who had always helped her. Nevertheless, I held up in my shaking hands the nosegay of flowers my mother had prepared for me and said, “For long and long, the women of my family have suckled the children of the nobility. Many old cures are known to us, and I hold in my hands one that will ease her pain and help her bring her child into the world.”
The old midwife scowled at me: well did I know of her long rivalry with my mother. I had heard her say that cows should not give themselves airs in regards to matters
Similar Books
