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Carriages clattered over the polished stones in front of the Manor, scattering dirt and servants in its wake. "Ella!" Elenia shrieked, "Fetch me my scarf and veil, you worthless fool."
A figure, clothed in simple garb, hurried back with the desired garmets. "Why were you so slow?" the girl scolded, her eyes scornful on the face, shadowed by the headcloth. "Ella-in-the-cinders," she added, a malicious twinkle in her cold blue eyes.
Tossing her head, the motion twirling her pretty brown hair, she was off and riding to her enjoyment with her latest suitor, soon to be frightened away. The servant was left standing in the dust, her fists clenched beneath her long brown sleeves.
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"Hurry!" The shouts of the servants rang out over the castle, conveying frantic fear. "Find the midwife!"
"What?" Selene exclaimed, rising from where she fed the dogs the evening's scraps. Her mind sparkled with interest and curiousity, and she stood determined to somehow watch the scene.
The housekeeper burst into the kitchen. "Hot water! Cloths! You stupid women, hurry! The Lady is having her first baby now!"
The kitchen women wailed, shocked, but complied as Selene began to gather the materials and herbs needed for the job, almost subconciously preforming her previous occupation as apprentice physician. "Let's go," she said firmly, gesturing to the women behind her, similarily burdened with sheets, water, and liquids.
A party consisting of an older man and woman, the pregnant girl and husband, and a young man were hurriedly trooping after Pertia. Inside the closest bedroom, a young sobbing woman was being toted gently onto the bed, far gone in her contractions. Blood soaked her clothing, making the fine blue brocade a muddy, forboding purple-scarlet. "My god!" Pertia screamed. "Cannot we find the midwife?" She wrung her hands, for once her aging features not composed haughtily.
The Lady wailed again, spasms torturing her gravid frame.
The housekeeper stepped forward. "Let me try!" she said, her rough voice unsure. "I once birthed my sister's child, the dear sweet thing." A man in the corner nodded leave, and the housekeeper soothed the Lady and fed her warm honeyed wine, like any stupid charlatan would do. She, after all, had never had dear Roane to tell her "never give an expecting woman alcoholic beverages."
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Pertia pushed her aside after a half-hour. "You, out!" she screamed, her face mottling red with both frustration and humiliation. Turning to the man in the corner, she bowed gravely and murmered, "There is nothing we may do now, sir." She retreated several feet away from the well-dressed man, next to the fearful Elesia.
Selene stared first at the young woman, than her stepmother, then back to the woman. Could she...? Evie, the milkmaid, had her baby in such a violent fashion as this, and she was able to help her give birth safely, and both were happy and healthy now. Gathering courage, she stepped forward to the immediate disgust of Pertia, who gave her an ominous glare.
"I can help!" she whispered into Pertia's ear, her voice firm.
Her stepmother, turning to her, hissed "Servant, you stay out of affairs you don't understand!" Pushing her firmly back into the wall, the stepmother glowered condescendingly at her.
"Mother!" Elesia cried out as Selene hit the wall with a dull thunk.
"Do you want her to die?" Selene said quietly, feeling desperation knawing at her throat. Who cared what punishment she would suffer after helping out? Too much blood, already! If any more time was wasted...
"I think," the young man drawled, "that we should let this goodwife preform her duties." To Selene's surprise, Pertia gave in deferentially to this boy not much older than herself. His face, though concerned, seemed to find some humor in overriding the authority of this arrogant noblewoman.
Selene took a deep breath, then curtsied to the family before shifting into her imitation of Roane. Elesia, hiding behind the doorway, slipped a clean white apron into her stepsister's hand before running away fearfully.
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An hour later, the squirming baby was delivered with some difficulty, breech birth, and the Lady's narrow hips also did not help to hasten the situation. Selene, handing the bloody child to the housewife, breathed a sigh of relief to see the healthy boy-child alive and well.
"A boy?" the Lady gasped, her hair soaked with sweat. Her eyes were already clearing from its ordeal, a good sign.
Selene smiled, imperceptibly beneath her kerchief. "Yes, a fine boy." Gathering the bloodied sheets, she placed them in an empty basket for the onerous duty of scrubbing. Curtsying again to the family, she turned to take her leave, the heavy basket of herbs and potions weighing her small arm down.
Pertia caught her just outside the door. "What do you think you were doing?" she hissed, grabbing her arm hard enough to bruise. "You are not the Duke's daughter anymore, you are nothing, you hear me?" Her voice rose angrily on the last sentence.
Selene twirled around, her emerald eyes cold. "I saved her life, in your home! More than i should have done, except that she was suffering, and doing you honor in this stolen palace of yours-" She was cut off with a sharp slap, then another. The girl, fierce in her uncharactericly defiant anger, did not even flinch.
Quietly, as if nothing had happened, Selene continued coldly, "And you would rather let her die than allow me to try and save her!" She ducked skillfully from the third blow, disheveling her bound hair.
"You devil!" Pertia gasped, her hauteur restored by her violence. "I should have done away with you long before this, girl, for all that your useless father's wealth financed my rise to power!"
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Corren, sitting by his sister's bedside, smiled at the sleeping baby. His brother-in-law looked as emotionally exhausted, his eyes bloodshot. "Sis," Corren whispered.
She opened one amber eye, smiling at her younger brother. "I'm fine," she managed back, grinning slyly. "You are so squemish, how are you ever going to hold the throne?"
He stared back, his expression serious. "Do you still worry about that? That I, the younger, would rule simply because i'm male? I know-" he hushed her protest, "that you used to mind when we were younger."
The princess glared back. "I did not! Besides," she tickled the tiny baby's nose gently, "I think i have my work cut out for me." Gripping her husbands hand, her sigh of happiness coincided exactly with the sound of a blow echoing through the hall. A second slap came quickly, which was followed by the angry voice of that Duchess Whats-Her-Name, slightly muffled by the walls.
Corren's eyes met his father's, who was still standing in his corner of the room with his mother. His mouth twitched. "Oh, go on boy," he said. "I know what you're going to do."
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By that time, Pertia had dashed the basket of herbs to the floor, scattering the packets dried leaves and bottles extensively. "Pick it up!" she dictated, demonically enjoying her power over the girl. She laughed scornfully, until the sound of a single foot tapping impatiently broke through the ruddy haze that clouded her mind.
"Excuse me," the calm and slightly indignant voice of the young man interrupted. "And what is this? The goodwife who has healed the Princess is now being tormented, and by this 'fine' Lady?" he gestured to Pertia, a sardonic edge to his melodious voice.
The stepmother halted her actions, bowing to the young man. "Your Highness," she murmered.
Turning away from Pertia, the boy- Prince?- looked at Selene. "Ma'am, my father woul-" he startled audibly as he caught sight of her golden braid and young face, showing from behind the faded kerchief- "Miss? My father requires a word with you."
Rising, Selene followed the Crown Prince back inside the room, her hands trembling slightly with fear and shock at finally meeting the monarch of the Kingdom.
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copyright sorka robinton 2001