Page 60 of The Dragon Ring
The boy passed her a small, three-legged stool, and she lowered the girl onto it gently.
“It’s all right,” Morgawse managed. “The pain’s gone again now. I feel better. I think it was just indigestion. I’ve been having a lot of that lately. It can’t be the baby– it’s not due for two weeks.”
Karstyn pushed back a wayward lock of her steely grey hair. “Two weeks is nothin’ to a babby,” she declared. “Tis comin’ now whether ye like it or not.”
Morgawse opened her mouth to refute this, but another pain swept over her and instead she groaned in anguish. “Oooh, make it stop.”
Karstyn dragged up another stool and set it beside Morgawse. “Here,” she said to me. “Sit ye down aside of ’er and tell ’er it’ll be all right. That’s the best ye can do. I’ll find the necessaries for a birthing and these two lollies’ll find us all somethin’ to eat. Can ye do that?”
I nodded and sat down on the stool. Morgawse shot out a small hand and seized mine in a vice-like grip. Who’d have thought such a fragile looking girl could turn out to be so strong?
After a bit, her grip relaxed as the pain subsided. I might have had a friend with a baby, but I’d never seen anyone in labor before, so this was all new territory– territory I was fast deciding I never wanted to navigate for myself. Perhaps a distraction would help.
“How long have you and Theodoric been married?” I asked, searching for the sort of small talk you could share with an in-labor mother.
She looked at me out of still puffy eyes, and managed a besotted smile. “Four years now. He’s wonderful, don’t you think?”
Well, what I thought was that with a wife like this waiting for him, Theodoric was a fool to be with other women when he was away from her. Of course, I didn’t say so. She was very obviously in love with him.
“He doesn’t look British. He’s so blonde. He looks like a Saxon.” I knew he was a Goth, but I wanted to give her something to talk about, and couldn’t think of anything else to say.
She nodded, glowing with pride. “People often think that. But he’s not. He’s from Gaul. He was a general in the army of King Syragius of Gaul. But when the Franks came, under King Clovis, the Goths were driven out. Syragius was killed. Clovis executed the old king’s generals, but he didn’t get Theo.” She massaged her swollen belly with one hand and managed a smile, before screwing her face up in pain as another contraction took her.
I waited for it to pass. “So he’s a Goth?”
She nodded.
“Have you any other children?”
She shook her head. “This is my first. Morgana says I didn’t quicken because Theo is away so often. I think she’s right. He’s always away with the fleet. For months at a time.”
Yes, and I had a good idea what he was up to when he was away. How many of the women he’d been with had fallen pregnant by him while his wife waited hopefully to do the same? A fair few, I imagined. Men. I wasn’t sure I liked Theodoric much.
She tightened her grip on my hand again.
“Oooooh. Morgana gave me a potion to put in his wine–” She doubled up in pain, both hands cradling her bump. “It hurts!”
Karstyn came back with two wooden beakers of wine. She passed one to me and took a long swig out of the other. We waited while the contraction passed.
“That’s better,” Morgawse managed with a weak smile. “I’m sure it’s just indigestion. I had it all day yesterday and all night. But I managed to sleep a bit. It’ll go soon. I get it a lot. Morgana would know what to do.”
“I’d not let that one give me anything,” Karstyn said with a disgusted snort. “I’d not trust ’er as far as I could throw ’er. Which int far.”
I was with Karstyn on this. Morgana didn’t look to me like the sort of person whose potions I’d trust.
Morgawse went on. “She’s my sister. She helped me conceive. She says this child will be a boy. A son for Theo. He’ll be so proud. We have a name for him already.”
I patted Morgawse’s small hand and gave her a sip of the wine. I’d heard that first babies took a long time. Certainly my friend Sian’s labor had taken a good twenty-four hours. We’d be out of this kitchen long before any drastic action was needed.
The spotty boy had gone to stand by the doors with his ear to the crack. “I can ’ear fightin’,” he said suddenly. “And shoutin’.”
“Stay there and keep listening,” Karstyn said. “But it sounds like we may ’ave to stay in ’ere a while. We’re fairly safe. They’ll know this is the kitchens. I doubt anyone else’ll come looking in ’ere.” She looked at Morgawse worriedly. “But ye’ll ’ave to keep as quiet as ye can, and that won’t be easy.”
I hoped she was right.
“Oh no, here it comes again.” Morgawse’s face crumpled into pain and her grip on my hand tightened like a vice.
Karstyn came back to her side. “Did ye say ye’d ’ad this indigestion since yesterday?”
