Read Online The Willful Princess and the Piebald Prince by Hobb Robin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Hobb Robin
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beyond their knowledge, but she did not so disparage me now. She had no opportunity. Caution had overheard my words, and she whispered harshly, “Bring me the flowers now, please, for I die of the pain, I die!”
Now the midwife could not dare to challenge my right to be there. I rushed to her side and held the flowers where Caution could smell them. She lifted both her hands and seized my wrists so tightly that to this day, I swear I can still feel that clutch. And the nosegay seemed to work its charm, for she seemed to gain strength for her task. She still cried out for Lostler at each pain, but the word ceased to seem a name and more like her rallying cry. I stayed by her side, and let her strangle my hands as she would. My own belly ached and I felt my womb tighten over and over, almost in time with hers. I knew this to be normal and even a good thing when it followed birth, but I could not shake the feeling that I labored alongside her, and that somehow my contractions aided hers.
She gained strength, it is true, but still she labored far longer than I liked. The midwife whispered to her assistants that she might have to cut the child from the Queen-in-Waiting’s womb, or else risk losing both of them. At that, my mistress opened wide her eyes.
“No knife shall touch me!” she proclaimed. “Let my child come out as he went in. Enough blood has been shed over him!”
And all who were near gasped at her words, but none defied her, for all know that in this, the woman has the final say. And so she labored on, though I think the pain would have been less had she allowed the midwife to open her belly for the child’s passing. Night gave way to dawn and then morning. Time and again the king sent messengers to her door, and over and over they were turned back with ‘not yet.’ Finally, he sent a page to sit in the hall outside the door and wait. With the passing of the darkness, I saw my mistress weakening.
And when finally the midwife cried out, “I see the crown! A few more pushes, my queen, and your child will be here!” I saw her face whiten suddenly. Even her lips seemed pale as they pulled back from her teeth and I saw that she did not wait for her body, but pushed with every last bit of strength she had. The baby came then, in a final rush of blood and fluid, head emerging and then his body sliding out almost at once. The midwife caught him and held him up as joyously as if he were a fresh-caught salmon. “A boy!” she cried. “The Farseer line has a new prince! Send the runner to the king, and let the news reach his ears first, that he be the one to proclaim it!”
At once, one of her assistants rushed for the door. The other accepted the prince into a clean white blanket and began to gently rub him clean while the midwife awaited the afterbirth. It came in time and once that last push was done, Caution closed her eyes for a long time. Yet still she gripped my wrists between her hands and I did not move for fear of disturbing whatever small rest she might be finding. The midwife busied herself between the Queen-in-Waiting’s legs, muttering her dislike of something. Cloth after cloth she folded and pressed there, and then pulled Caution’s thighs close together and bound them in a wrapping. And then she turned to her assistant, who had been tugging at her sleeve and whispering at her for some time.
By then my mistress had begun to shake with cold, for she had labored long and now the heat of her work was leaving her. Blankets had been warmed by the hearth, and these were brought to her. When her shaking subsided, she demanded, “Where is my son? You have not yet shown him to me! Give him to me!”
I saw the look that passed between the assistant and the midwife. The midwife folded her lips and gave a sharp nod. The woman approached the Queen-in-Waiting hesitantly, made a deep curtsey and then offered her the bundled child.
Caution took him, smiling wearily, but as she lifted the flap of blanket
Now the midwife could not dare to challenge my right to be there. I rushed to her side and held the flowers where Caution could smell them. She lifted both her hands and seized my wrists so tightly that to this day, I swear I can still feel that clutch. And the nosegay seemed to work its charm, for she seemed to gain strength for her task. She still cried out for Lostler at each pain, but the word ceased to seem a name and more like her rallying cry. I stayed by her side, and let her strangle my hands as she would. My own belly ached and I felt my womb tighten over and over, almost in time with hers. I knew this to be normal and even a good thing when it followed birth, but I could not shake the feeling that I labored alongside her, and that somehow my contractions aided hers.
She gained strength, it is true, but still she labored far longer than I liked. The midwife whispered to her assistants that she might have to cut the child from the Queen-in-Waiting’s womb, or else risk losing both of them. At that, my mistress opened wide her eyes.
“No knife shall touch me!” she proclaimed. “Let my child come out as he went in. Enough blood has been shed over him!”
And all who were near gasped at her words, but none defied her, for all know that in this, the woman has the final say. And so she labored on, though I think the pain would have been less had she allowed the midwife to open her belly for the child’s passing. Night gave way to dawn and then morning. Time and again the king sent messengers to her door, and over and over they were turned back with ‘not yet.’ Finally, he sent a page to sit in the hall outside the door and wait. With the passing of the darkness, I saw my mistress weakening.
And when finally the midwife cried out, “I see the crown! A few more pushes, my queen, and your child will be here!” I saw her face whiten suddenly. Even her lips seemed pale as they pulled back from her teeth and I saw that she did not wait for her body, but pushed with every last bit of strength she had. The baby came then, in a final rush of blood and fluid, head emerging and then his body sliding out almost at once. The midwife caught him and held him up as joyously as if he were a fresh-caught salmon. “A boy!” she cried. “The Farseer line has a new prince! Send the runner to the king, and let the news reach his ears first, that he be the one to proclaim it!”
At once, one of her assistants rushed for the door. The other accepted the prince into a clean white blanket and began to gently rub him clean while the midwife awaited the afterbirth. It came in time and once that last push was done, Caution closed her eyes for a long time. Yet still she gripped my wrists between her hands and I did not move for fear of disturbing whatever small rest she might be finding. The midwife busied herself between the Queen-in-Waiting’s legs, muttering her dislike of something. Cloth after cloth she folded and pressed there, and then pulled Caution’s thighs close together and bound them in a wrapping. And then she turned to her assistant, who had been tugging at her sleeve and whispering at her for some time.
By then my mistress had begun to shake with cold, for she had labored long and now the heat of her work was leaving her. Blankets had been warmed by the hearth, and these were brought to her. When her shaking subsided, she demanded, “Where is my son? You have not yet shown him to me! Give him to me!”
I saw the look that passed between the assistant and the midwife. The midwife folded her lips and gave a sharp nod. The woman approached the Queen-in-Waiting hesitantly, made a deep curtsey and then offered her the bundled child.
Caution took him, smiling wearily, but as she lifted the flap of blanket
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