Page 7 of Sweet Mead for Lady Martine

“How about you?” asked Greta.

“Me?” Martine jerked in surprise. “Nay.” She released Sage’s hand, shaking her head. “I could never do something like this!”

“Please,” begged Sage, tears dripping down her cheeks. “I can tell you what to do as well, Martine. I’ve done it myself in the past but can’t do so now.”

“Nay. Of course, you can’t.” Martine felt her cheeks burning. Her entire body overheated from anxiety and she felt as if she were about to combust. She’d never even been present at the birth of a baby. Now she was expected to partake in a risky process that might end in someone’s death? Martine was brave and daring when it came to other things like sailing on a ship filled with men in the midst of a storm at sea, but this frightened her more than even that.

“I trust you, Martine. Please, do this for me.” The look of need and hope in Sage’s eyes touched Martine’s heart. Still, she felt like she didn’t want to be a part of this at all. It was much too risky.

“Sage, you don’t know what you’re asking.” Martine couldn’t speak above a whisper.

“I, or my baby might die otherwise. Please,” Sage continued to beg.

“My mother is putting herself at great risk just to help your friend,” said Cecelia. “She could die for taking this chance but she is putting Lady Sage’s needs above even her own protection. Surely, you, a noblewoman have nothing to risk at all by helping.”

That was all Martine needed to hear to know that she had to push her fear aside and help her friend. Cecelia was right. The woman’s mother was risking everything, possibly even losing her life if Sage or the baby died. Martine didn’t want anything to happen to Greta. Neither did she want anything to happen to Sage or the baby. She would never forgive herself if she refused to help and there might have been something she could do to make this a successful birth. Martine cared too much about her friends and family to turn away in their time of need.

“I’ll do it,” she said, hearing the shaking of her own voice. “I’ll do it for you and the baby, Sage. Also for my brother since he cannot be here to aid you. I also don’t want anything to happen to Greta when she has been so kind and willing to put her life on the line for us.”

“Oh, thank you!” The gratitude in Sage’s eyes was enough to give Martine the strength she needed to do this frightening task that she’d never dreamed she’d ever be a part of.

Martine removed the tippets, long sleeves from her gown, so they wouldn’t become soiled or get in the way. After releasing a deep breath, she raised her chin and looked over at Greta and Cecelia.

“All right, I’m ready. Tell me what to do.”

“Wear this, my lady,” said Cecelia tying an apron around her.

“Use this to wash your hands.” Matilda hurried over with a basin of water and some soft soap.

“Thank you, girls, but please leave now so you will not be blamed for anything that might happen here tonight,” instructed Greta.

“Yes, Mother,” said Cecelia taking Matilda’s hand and quickly leaving the room. Now, it was only Sage, Josefina, Greta, and Martine left in the chamber.

Martine felt her stomach churning. Sweat beaded on her brow. Was she really going to do this? Could she handle seeing blood or anything else that this might entail? It was absurd! Just the thought of it terrified her and made her want to turn and run. She was a noblewoman and not meant to help birth a baby. But neither was she ready to lose Sage or the unborn child. Today, she would do everything in her power to help Sage or die trying. It didn’t matter how she felt about any of this. All that mattered was that this baby would be born healthy and alive and that the child and Sage would both survive.

“Let’s do this,” she said, holding up her clean hands and releasing one more deep breath, trying to calm her shaking nerves. She pushed from her mind the sound of Sage screaming out in pain, and tried her hardest to stay focused on helping the little, helpless baby.

Even over all the noise of the thunderous storm outside and the talking and the laughing of the people in the crowded room of patrons, David could still hear the screams of the pregnant woman coming from his family’s living quarters.

“What’s going on back there?” A rugged man already deep in his cups held out his empty tankard, waiting for David to refill it. “Is someone bein’ murdered?”

“Nay,” said another man, pushing his way through the crowd up to the drink board. His wife was at his side. “It’s not a murder. My wife says it’s one of those noblewomen. Is she right?”

“Don’t worry about it,” growled David trying to act nonchalant even though it troubled him more than he was willing to let on.

“David, that sounds like screams of passion,” said Cinnamon, the tavern’s whore, strutting up behind the drink board with two men following her around, acting as if they were scurvy dogs and she were a bitch in heat.

“You’ve hired another whore haven’t you? How could you?” the girl asked him. “I thought we had a deal that I would be the only whore here at the inn.”

“Nay, I didn’t hire anyone.” David talked over his shoulder as he hurriedly tried to refill the empty cups of the angry men, taking their money, and shoving the coins into the pouch hanging at his side. “I’ve done no such thing, I swear. I’ve honored the agreement you made with my father years ago.”

“A whore? Oh my!” The patron’s wife gasped and held a hand to her mouth. Then she whispered into her husband’s ear.

“My wife thinks you’ve got noble whores here now too. Is that true?” asked the man, getting a slap on his arm and a dirty look from his wife for revealing what she’d told him in confidence.

David glanced back over his shoulder, realizing the screaming had finally stopped. He wanted more than anything to see what was going on in his chamber, but wouldn’t dare leave the drink board. He didn’t trust any of these people. It had been a good hour or two now and still no one but his sisters had left the room. He hadn’t had even a minute to find them and ask them what was happening with the birth.

“Well? Is it true?” asked the man again.