Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves (35 page)

seed.”Something in her manner and her choice of words raised

my hackles, but Gaston called for me and I endeavored to shake the unease away. “If that is what you truly wish, then so be it.” I the unease away. “If that is what you truly wish, then so be it.” I told her. “Think it over, we will discuss it when we all feel better and this is behind us.”

Agnes seemed pleased with this, and I went to Gaston only to be sent on another run to the medicine cabinet in the surgery. Liam caught me as I began to mount the stairs on my return.

“The midwife’s across the island,” he said. “Tendin’ another birth.”He watched me expectantly.
I shrugged. “We have two here fromwhat I understand, and Gaston. I am fairly sure she is not needed. Thank you for trying, though.”
“Is there anythingelse we cando?”he asked.
“Nay, I think not. The priest is here. Events will unfold…”
“As God wishes, aye,” he said sadly. “We’ll be prayin’

for ’em.”I nodded and wondered if that was perhaps the best

course for me to take as well. Was there not a Goddess responsible for childbirth? It was not Juno, or Vesta, or surely Athena. Nay, it was Diana, Goddess of the Hunt, but also of suchdisparate things as childbirthand slaves.

Agnes was once again thankfully absent when I reached the door. I delivered my burden and retreated to the balcony again. Inside, Father Pierre was reading the Bible to Rachel while Theodore and Muri continued to sponge her burning skin. Gaston and Hannah were waiting on something. They sat and stared at nothing. I was about to creep inside and ask my matelot what was happening when he sat up and carefully shoved his hand up Rachel’s passage. His tongue appeared at the corner of his lips and he adopted the frown of concentration he always did when examining something with his fingers alone. Then his frown changed to one of concern. He pulled his hand free and regarded his fingers. His nose wrinkled. Hannah turned her back to Rachel, smelled Gaston’s fingers, motioned for Muri to jointhemand theybeganto confer inrapid whispers.

They finally nodded in some mutual agreement and Gaston stood and came to join me on the balcony. He squatted beside me witha worried mien.

“The baby has died and been rotting inside her for weeks,”he whispered.
“Gods…”I breathed as I considered the implications.
“It is foul. Hannah and Muri say that usually the woman goes into labor of her own accord after a baby dies. Sometimes it takes weeks. Rachel has gone too long and the baby has begun to decay. Now it is a sepsis in her womb. That is why she fevers. They say many women live after bearing a baby that has been dead—even if it has been for days or over a week. Normally they do not fever. Normally, they say, the baby does not begin to decay such as this one has. We must get it and the afterbirth out. But Rachel’s womb does not seem to want to contract. We have applied a substance to the cervix that usually causes it to contract and cramp inthe hopes this willcause her to open. It seems to be working, but it is veryslow.”
“Servicks?”I asked.
“The sphincter at the bottomofthe womb,”he said.
That explained a great deal. I decided not to regale him withmyignorance onthe matter.
“Muri says that if we can get the cervix to open fully, Rachelshould beginto labor,”he said.
“Should?”I asked. “What ifshe does not?”
“I do not know, Will. It is like a big wound that must be cleaned, and I know not how to do it and have her live except through that opening. If the cervix does not open enough… In a cow you can reach in and turn the calf, but only if the womb is fullyopen. Womenare quite a bit smaller, and I canonlyget two fingers inthere now.”He regarded his digits and grimaced.
“So we wait?”I asked.
“She could die from the sepsis while we wait,” he said. “She could die from the sepsis even if we get it out. She knows she was foolish in not telling anyone so that we could start this sooner. I guess she hoped it would live after all.”
“I cannot imagine walking about with a dead body inside me,”I said.
Gastonshuddered inanswer.
Something else he had said echoed in my thoughts. “You said that normallywomendo not do this. Perhaps that is why her last child died. Perhaps she is not normal.”
“But thenhow did she have the first one?”he asked.
I shrugged and he mirrored it.
“There is so damn much we do not know, Will,” he said sadly.
We waited. Gaston sat beside me and took my hand. The house quieted as people returned to bed, each one asking if they could be of assistance before they did, and assuring us they were there if we should need them no matter the hour or circumstance.
The women and Gaston took turns examining Rachel’s passage. Rachelbegan to pass in and out ofa fevered delirium. I silently asked Diana and the Gods for their aid. I contemplated madness in women. I wondered how much someone must want a child to carry it around dead in the hopes it would somehow come back to life. I wondered if women were more inclined to be creatures oftheir Horses, or less.
I dozed—until someone kicked my foot. I woke in time to see Doucette shuffling into the room. I cursed. It was echoed to my right by Yvette who was running around the balcony to catchher husband.
Gaston was sitting at the foot of the bed conferring with Muri again. They looked up with surprise at Doucette’s entry. Yvette and I stood in the doorway. Gaston motioned us to silence. Rachel and Theodore appeared to be sleeping; as were Hannahand Father Pierre inthe room’s two chairs.
Doucette looked the room over. “What is wrong?” he asked loudlyenoughto wake everyone.
Gastonsighed. “Let us go out and I willtellyouofit.”
“Non, stay with your patient. Tell me here,” Doucette said.
“The babyhas died inside her,”Gastonsaid withhis best physician’s voice. “We are attempting to induce her to labor so that we might remove it. As of yet, her cervix has not opened to the necessary size. She is fevering as if suffering from severe sepsis.”
“The baby might have been dead for three weeks,” Gastonsaid witha grimace:as ifit were his fault.
Doucette cursed with incredulity, ending with, “Women are mad whentheyare pregnant—and after. Non, theyare never in their right mind—always at the whim of their heart and loins and not their heads.”
“Dominic,” Gaston said tiredly. “Do you have any aid to offer or not?”
Doucette snorted. “How wide is the opening?”
Gastonshowed himthree fingers.
“Here is what you do, then,” Doucette said. “Get a length of copper wire, the kind jewelers use. There should be some in the surgery. Make a loop of it as wide as your fingers. Affix it to a stick or leather handle so that you can grip it. Then insert it in her uterus and pull the body parts out. If they are not free to move, the wire will cut them so that they will fit through the hole. The skull might be difficult. If the body is good and rotten, it might be easier. Otherwise you willneed to just tear the cervix and get your hand in there and crush it. Remember to scoop the placenta out. Then rinse the womb out with salty water. Ifyoucut her or she hemorrhages, she willdie.”
I believe everyone was stunned speechless. I surely was.
Yvette was the first to move. “Dominic! You heartless bastard!” she screeched as she cuffed his head and began dragging him from the room. I snatched his cane as they passed to stop himfromtryingto strike her withit.
Rachel had started making a strange keening sound. I

saw very little sanity in her eyes. Above her, Theodore’s gaze

 

saw very little sanity in her eyes. Above her, Theodore’s gaze was no better.

Hannah and Muri appeared grim and they were arguing fiercelywithone another.
Father Pierre had his eyes closed and his lips moved in fervent prayer.
My greatest concern was my matelot. He knelt there, very still, with his Child about his face. It was as if someone had struck himand he did not know why.
I knelt before him. “Laudanum?”
“Oui, please,”he whispered.
“For everyone?”
He nodded slowly. “That would be best.” He looked to Hannahand Muri.
Hannah backed to the wall with a grim shake of her head. “It could save her, but it is evil.”
I did not think she was referring to the laudanum, as she had not heard myexchange withGaston.
Muri said something in her own language and pushed around Gastonand ranfromthe room.
“There is no question it is dead?” Father Pierre asked in her wake.
Gastonshook his head.
Father Pierre nodded. “It is an awful and terrible thing, but ifit willsave her life?”
Gastonnodded, and thenwitha sad sighhe turned to the Theodores. “I think Doucette is correct. That method should work. It might save your… her life.” He stopped, he had been

addressing Rachel, but she had begun to rock in Theodore’s

addressing Rachel, but she had begun to rock in Theodore’s arms and now she buried her face in his chest and wailed. “It is the best optionwe have,”he added.

Theodore gave a tight nod.
I stood and went to the door. Gaston lunged after me and we slipped out into the cool night breeze that had finally risen.
“I do not know if I can do this, Will,” he said with a smallvoice. I saw onlyhis Child about himnow.
I was tellingmyselfit was onlya body:it was no longer a baby. It was tumor or wound that was killing Rachel and it must be excised and cleaned to save her. But I understood my matelot’s duress. I had seen him amputate limbs, cauterize wounds, dig lead balls and splinters fromallmanner of flesh, and drain putrescence that stank like opened graves or worse; but none of that surgery had been done to a baby, or more importantly, a woman. Even now, they were all his sister. Other than his delivery of healthy babies of healthy women, we had never had an opportunity or reason to inure him to performing surgery upon a woman. This thing he was now asked to do was horrific even to a man without a wounded and scarred soul; but for Gaston, I could not see where it would be possible.
Asickening wave of resignation flowed over me like tar: scaldingand coatingme untilI felt I could not move or breathe.
“Canyouwatch?”I asked mymatelot.
He gasped. “She might bleed.”
I saw himslip away until there was nothing left but a sad little boy whose sister had died in his arms. I swore vehemently

and embraced him. He returned it in the curiously tender way he

 

and embraced him. He returned it in the curiously tender way he had whenthe Child as about him.

I released him enough to take his shoulders. “Stay here. Sit down,”I said gently. “I willfetchthe medicine.”
He took a step with me as I began to move, his eyes pleading. With a sigh, I took his hand and we went to the surgery. I made him sit on the stool and close his eyes while I searched for, found, and fashioned the wire as Doucette had instructed. Then I collected everything else I thought might be needed; rags, another basin, and—though all conscious thought as to how it should be used sickened me—a large spoon.
Then I found the laudanum and gave us both a small dose.
Once we were back upstairs, I bade Gaston sit in the corner with his eyes closed. Father Pierre, Theodore, and Hannahregarded himwithcuriosityand thenconcern.
“Do not say a word,” I snapped at the three ofthemas I handed Theodore a dose of the drug. “Drink this. Then I will prepare a draught for Rachel. If you two,” I pointed at the priest and Hannah, “cannot bear this, thenleave now.”
“What is the matter with Lord Montren?” Father Pierre asked.
“His sister died in a bloody mess and this is… No sane manshould be asked to do this, muchless… Leave himbe!”
Father Pierre nodded. “What canI do, myson?”
I took a steadying breath as I measured out Rachel’s dose. “WhenI beginto vomit, would youplease cleanit up?”
“I can do that,” Hannah said. “I will not touch her or…” She shook her head and looked away. “But I will help you. You She shook her head and looked away. “But I will help you. You must understand. Mysoulwillbe introuble ifI…”
“Youneed sayno more,”I said tiredly.
I handed the cup to Theodore, and Father Pierre tried to help himget Rachelto drink it. She fought them.
“Rachel!”I roared. “Do youwant to live? For Elizabeth? For your husband?”
She stilled. “Aye,”she said weakly.
“Then drink that so that you do not feel this,” I said softly.
She drank.
I felt the drug as I knelt before her. I did not think I had given myself enough; still, the room seemed distant and hushed. The flicker oflanternlight was mesmerizing. Father Pierre moved the lamps closer and held one so that it would shine between her legs. I wished to tell himto stop because I did not wish to see a damnthing, but it seemed too mucheffort.
Even dulled as I was, I vomited when I smelled the vile odor emanating from her passage. I heaved again the first time the wire caught. ThenI was empty, and there was onlythe crying and cursingand working—allmine.
I could not tell anyone how I accomplished it. I prayed every second that the Gods would be merciful and I would remember none ofit.
At some point toward the end I looked up and saw Rachel staring down at me. Her expression was beatific and her pupils huge with the drug. She smiled kindly and told me to go ahead and finish. There was blood flowing from between her legs.
legs.
I prayed Gaston was unconscious. I did not dare look toward him. I knew meeting his gaze would make it all real and thensome piece ofmysoulwould die and I would never recover it.
And then it was over and I was staggering into the soft and comfortinggreyofdawn. It was raining, not intorrents, but a pleasant drizzle that cooled my brow and back and began to soak away the stench. I stumbled down the stairs and found myselfinthe middle ofthe atrium.
I spread my arms and turned my face up to the rain. The words rose unbidden, pouring from my mouth and climbing the weave of drops to the hidden stars. I guessed I was recalling some passage I had read by Hesiod or some other Greek or Roman. “Oh Goddess Diana, merciful goddess of women and the forest, please hear my prayer. I implore you to protect the women I know. To never allow another of them to suffer as Rachel has this night: to never allow another child to die and be remembered in that manner. I amafraid for them, for allof them, and I offer you… a temple, in exchange for your aid. Aye, I will build you temple on the land on the mountain. Please accept it as a gift ofmyfaithand worship.”
I did not know how I would build a proper temple, but that part also seemed correct based upon all I had ever read of Rome and Greece. Heroes were always building shrines and temples or some suchthingfor their patrondeities.
There was no miraculous rumble of thunder or any other such ominous thing to indicate I had done ought but make a fool ofmyself. Yet, I did feelbetter. I supposed that was part of faith — ifnot allofit.
I pulled my gaze from the sky and started with surprise when I found someone watching me: Henrietta. She stood between me and the cookhouse, frowning and staring. The censure I saw on her pudgy cheeks stripped away any feeling of comfort I had gained frompraying. The momentary warmth was replaced by fear, and I could not in my addled and still-drugfogged state understand whyI should fear her. I only knew that I