Clement, at the sound of a scream, jolted from sleep. Out of instinct, his hand flew to Marjorie’s side of the bed, hoping to feel her warm body asleep. But when his flesh hit the cold bedding, his mouth went dry as his mind raced. “Marg!” he called out, hysterically. He drew back the blanket and gasped. A dark red stain spread across the white bedding. Touching it and feeling it’s sloppy substance, Clement slapped the pool of blood as a curse escaped his mouth. He leapt from the bed and hurried over to her side. Pausing as his feet touched a warm gooey spot, he looked to the floor and groaned when spots of blood trailed down the stairs.
Nearly tripping down the newly installed stairs, he found Marjorie hunched over the table with a stream of blood running down her dress and collecting at her feet. Her beautiful face was contorted into scrunches of agony. Her screams chilled Clement. He felt her pain in his heart. Seeing her in this much pain was too much for him to bear and he felt faint. Throwing his emotions aside, he wrapped his arms around her shoulder, but she shook them off with screams as he whispered, “What can I do?”
“Get a wet nurse, you git!” she shouted through clenched teeth. Her brow, arms and chest were coated in a thick layer of sweat. Her hair matted to her forehead. She threw her dress off and tore at her stomach as if to remove the baby through her skin.
“I’ll be back soon.” Clement kissed Marjorie’s forehead and dashed off.
Marjorie started to cry loudly. She had no inhibitions about waking her neighbours and cried with full breaths of air. She squatted on the ground and continued clawing her stomach until the taut skin was marked viciously red. “Please, Lord, let me die! Kill me now!” she cried looking towards the sky. “God!”
Clement burst through the door with the wet nurse, Joan.
Joan, a women no more than forty-five, rushed over to Marjorie. “Is Baby on time?” She spoke slowly and was patient with Marjorie whose response were groans and nods of the head. “Early?”
Marjorie nodded. “Oh, God, this hurts!”
“Oh, God, it’s dangerous to be early. Yes, my dear, I know it hurts.”
Clement stood by the door, looking around feverishly. “Is something wrong?”
Joan, while helping Marjorie to lie down on the straw, laughed slightly. “No, this is what childbirth looks like. Bless each women who does it.”
Clement sensed worry in Joan’s voice but did not dare to question her knowledge. He pressed his lips together to stop himself from blurting out an insult he would later regret. Although he never intended on having a family with Marjorie, over the past few months he had grown to care for her more than he thought possible and to witness her misery disturbed him.
This was the first time he ever observed a birth and was dumbfounded by how painful it appeared. There were always the complaints from the new mothers of Winshire who spoke negatively about their recent experience and swore they would never have another child. But those promises only lasted until their husbands become frisky.
“Pray to Saint Elmo for the pain and Saint Margret for the birth,” Joan whispered.
Clement bit his tongue, trying not to let his authentic feelings of distain for prayer. How would someone people help when there is nobody there to answer? He thought.
Marjorie cried out in pain. “It’s all right,” Joan cooed. “Get wet rags,” she demanded to Clement who hurried off and returned after a moment with a handful of damp scraps. “Hold her hand and dab her forehead.”
Clement did as he was told.
Joan took a few of the rags and cleaned the skin of Marjorie’s inner thighs. Much to Clement’s shock, she looked between Marjorie’s legs. “Baby is coming soon. Now, I want you to take short and fast breaths and push.”
“Push?” Marjorie exclaimed with anxiety.
Joan nodded. “It’s time.”
Marjorie closed her eyes and stopped screaming. For a moment, Clement’s heart stopped as he thought his wife’s life was over. But then, Marjorie’s face contorted as she grunted loudly. Clement guessed she was pushing.
Minutes blurred together; after a while, crying, pushing and screaming were redundant to watch for Clement. His hand was losing feeling from Marjorie’s tight grasp.
“Baby’s coming!” Joan cried with excitement.
With a final groan push from Marjorie, Joan lifted Baby into her arms. Baby was bloody and a cord attached Baby to Marjorie. “Get a knife,” Joan demanded to Clement who acted upon the orders. With the knife, Joan cut the cord and from the wet rag, wrapped Baby inside. “You have a son.” She handed Baby to Marjorie with a frown.
My son, he thought fondly looking at the dark tuff of hair wisps on the baby’s red head. But something seemed off about Baby; Baby wasn’t breathing. “What’s wrong?” Clement said harshly. “What’s wrong with my son?”
But just as the concern came over Clement, a loud cry escaped baby’s mouth and Clement smiled gratefully. He knelt beside Marjorie and kissing the back of her hand. Letting his lips linger by her skin, he whispered with teary eyes, “He’s so beautiful.”
Marjorie, in a sleepy haze, said, “Careful, you may fall more in love with him than me.”
“Never. Let’s name him Garrett.”
“For your father?”
Clement nodded.
“Garrett is small,” Joan warned, cleaning Marjorie. “He will need to feed constantly.”
Marjorie nodded and offered Garrett her nipple.
YOU ARE READING
Ordained by God
Historical Fiction(DON'T BE PUT OFF BY THE TITLE IT'S NOT A RELIGIOUS BOOK) During the reign of William the Conqueror, women were subordinate to men in all social situations and love was not a reason a Lady to wed. Lady Eleanor of Winshire has falled in love with Cle...
