"AUNTIE Eddy!" called Petrosinella. "Can I water the parsley today?"

In the kitchen, the midwife, whose name was in fact Edessa, sliced off a hunk of cheese for her breakfast and grinned. It felt good to be called by her name again, and not merely "the old midwife." No one in the village had ever bothered to learn her name, and she had stopped bothering to give it. It didn't matter really, her aunt had told her that once she began her practice she would be identified by her profession alone, such as the butcher, the baker, or the smithy. Petrosinella called her "Auntie Eddy" for short, and she in turn called Petrosinella "Pet."

There was another appeal from the garden and Edessa, as we must now call her, put down her things and walked out into the sunny morning. There Petrosinella stood, almost completely obscured by the cumbersome bucket wrapped in her tiny arms. Edessa wiped her hands on her apron and started towards the well. When she had gone a few steps, she stopped and turned to look back at Petrosinella, who was standing in the yard watching her.

"Well, come along Pet, you can't water the parsley with air now can you?" she teased.

A burst of laughter spurred Petrosinella forward who reached the simple well and climbed onto the stone base to peer over the edge into the deep water. She liked the well, because it reminded her of her parents. By the end of her first week at Vegodi Castle she had been quite ready to go home, but Auntie Eddy had told her that her parents would come and get her when they were ready. Small drops made ripples in the glassy water. It had been months and they had not come for her yet.

But Auntie Eddy was kind, and Petrosinella was content with her life at the castle. She did miss having friends to play with. She learned a lot form Auntie Eddy, but when she wanted to play, the old woman would be tired, and she wasn't very good at playing games. She would always hide in the easiest places when they were playing hide-and-seek, and sometimes she wouldn't even come look for Petrosinella. Whenever they played tag, the midwife would sprain an ankle or pull a muscle and she would have to go into the kitchen for ointment, quickly ending the game. The only game the Auntie Eddy could play was blindman's bluff, and even then it would take her hours to find Petrosinella because she was so worried about getting hurt that she went painstakingly slow. If only I could find a friend, Petrosinella thought, then I wouldn't be so unhappy.

Petrosinella heard the midwife shuffling and panting along the path behind her. She hastily rubbed the tears from her eyes and tried to conceal the fact that she had been crying. If the midwife noticed her rosy nose and red eyes, she said nothing, and the two set about cranking the water. The old woman did most of the work, but she allowed Petrosinella to hold onto the crank and put it up while she pushed down. Then splish-splash back to the small garden by the kitchen to water the eager patch of parsley.

Edessa watched the girl at her work. The midwife looked after her garden with all of the care that she had shown it before, and more besides, because she was not employed, but the parsley she left to Petrosinella. She showed the girl how to pull the weeds around it, how to harvest it, how to dry and bottle it, and how to prepare foods with it. In the Spring she would teach her to plant it.

"Come along, Pet," she called as Petrosinella finished, "it's time for your breakfast." And, hand in hand, they went inside.

--

NATHYN was out again. Ever since the night Petrosinella had vanished he would go out every night to the Sword and Strumpet and get drunk. At 3am Gaethryn would hoist his unconscious body over her shoulder, take him home, and lay him on the kitchen table where Aevyn would find him in the morning. Aevyn looked out the window of her bedroom and sighed. "Oh dear Lord--" she prayed, and he voice broke into pitiful sobs. When she had collected herself she took up the prayer again, "Lord, Heavenly Father," she said as though using the multiple names would make God more amiable. "Please, please, bring my husband out of this darkness." She paused, sobbing again. In the dreary months that Petrosinella had been gone, the happy household had become a lonely, sorrowful place. Nathyn and she had grown apart, for though she had forgiven him, he was too overcome with guilt that he was isolated from her. It hurt her to see him suffer so, and be helpless to stop it. Some nights he would wake up drunk, and she would hear him climb the stairs into Petrosinella's room and weep. He always had a look on his face, even drunk, a gaze that consumed his expression. He was somewhere she could not reach.

The shop had remained closed for two months while Nathyn mourned, and searched fruitlessly. Now Aevyn continued to make soaps, and the women of the town took pity on her and were charitable, all the while saying what a shame it was that such a fine man as Nathyn should have taken to the drink, though one could hardly blame him, the poor dear. Some of the gossip was not so kind. She overheard whispers at church, which she now attended alone-Nathyn was either drunk or asleep-that it didn't matter if his child had run away, he had no right to drink like a sailor, and several of the mothers called him a "good-for-nothing drunkard". Aevyn bore their stinging insults in silence, but many lonely nights she sobbed at the truth of their words.

Aevyn wiped her eyes, startled out of her reverie by a sudden idea. Perhaps this would save Nathyn, and bring her husband back to her. She clasped her hands and bowed her head, finishing her prayer. "Dear Lord, send me another child, help my husband to find joy in this new life, and not dwell so on the loss of our dear sweet girl. May I remain Your humble servant forever and ever, Amen."

With that she turned away from the window. She placed her hand on her stomach, as if she expected Gabriel to appear and tell her she was to bear a son. She did not sleep, but paced, waiting for Gaethryn to deposit Nathyn and leave. When she heard the click of the door accompanied by a thud and a grunt, she descended the stairs and entered the kitchen. There lay Nathyn, breathing slowly. He stank of ale and a messy patch of hair hid his face.

Watching him there on the table brought the tears back to her eyes. What had happened to the sweet, smooth-faced Nathyn she had married? Was he somewhere inside this drunken brute? She hoped so. Aevyn moved and locked the door. She approached Nathyn's body and undressed him. She removed her own clothing and, gathering up her resolve, and fighting back her tears, she approached this stranger, and hoped for a boy.

--