Thirty-Nine

 

Small pains had bothered her for days now, but when her contractions truly started, Molina knew without a doubt that her baby was coming. She seized the bell rope and yanked on it, hearing the jangle of alarm bells summoning the servant who stood watch outside her room, ready to bring the midwife. She heard the patter of running feet as another contraction gripped her, leaving her gasping.

When the pain had eased, Molina turned her attention to the door. She needed to unbar it to let the midwife in. It took her two tries before she managed to heft the bar from its brackets, and a third to tip it onto the floor so that the door could open. Then another contraction seized her, and she fell to her knees.

For a long moment, she knew nothing but pain, and then, she was free. She staggered to her feet, headed for the bed.

"Molina? My lady, are you all right?" Lubos' voice had never sounded so heavenly as it did right now.

She fell heavily into bed, landing on her side so she didn't hurt the baby. "No. Your baby is determined to escape today."

The door flew open, and his eyes shone as bright and eager as the morning sun. "It is time?"

Molina attempted to nod, but all she could manage was a grimace as the pain came again.

Huge hands gripped hers, strong and reassuring. "The midwife is coming, and I have told the physician to stay away on pain of death. What do you wish me to do?"

Molina managed a smile. "Have the baby for me?"

"If I could take the pain from you, I would, but only a woman can bear a child. Men were not made for such things, I fear. But seeing as you will do all the hard work, you must name him. I hope you have some suitable names for a future king picked out."

"Daughter," she bit out before crying out in pain.

When she opened her eyes again, the midwife was there, accompanied by several maids carrying armloads of linen and buckets of water.

"Time to go, for this is no place for men," the midwife said, attempting to shoo Lubos from the room.

As Lubos' hand slipped from hers, Molina only gripped it tighter. The strange man's words came to Molina again, reminding her that she might not live to see or name her child.

She waited for the next pain to pass, before gasping out, "What if I do not survive the birth? Many women die. What if this is the last time I ever see you?"

Lubos leaned down to kiss her forehead, lowering his voice so only Molina could hear him. "I swear to you, both you and the child will survive. When you were ill and I feared you would not live another night, I went to a witch for your lamb's lettuce. She bespelled the leaves, promising you and the child a long and healthy life. So worry not. Today is not your time."

A witch? For such a powerful spell, she would have exacted a terrible price. All the gold in the tithing barn, perhaps, though witches were not known for their fondness for gold. No, her price would be far higher.

"What did it cost..." she began, before another cry of pain was all she could utter.

Lubos bowed, blew a kiss to her, and departed.

And Molina descended into what could only be described as hell, a realm of pain and pushing and panting that went on for an eternity, until she heard a lusty wail that had not come from her own throat.

"She's perfect, the little princess," someone said.

Molina felt a surge of triumph. She was right, and the baby was a girl.