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Chapter Thirteen

Aedre

“Do you suppose it will work?”

I hand the mixture to the midwife and bid her to drink it.

“Better than placing fish inside you. Where did you learn such nonsense?”

My friend Aloisa has a sheepish look. She’s only been the town midwife for less than a year. Before her mother’s death, she didn’t show much interest in the calling, but she’s since become a fine midwife. Except for her belief in tall tales.

“You know more about women’s bodies than most. Can you not see ’tis a silly notion?”

Aloisa drank the mixture I gave her and placed the empty cup on the table next to her. She and her husband share a modest two-story, timber-framed cottage right in the very center of the village, but a short walk for me. And so we visit each other often.

But this is no casual meeting.

When Aloisa first told me she was having difficulty becoming pregnant, I was more surprised than I should have been. If I can practice as a Garra, never having been in love myself, then surely a midwife could have difficulty with the very thing she practices every day.

“’Tis not magic, Aloisa, as well you know. The mixture will simply relax you, for I’m sure your worry is not easing matters.”

Amma believes pleasure during sexual relations is not a sin. And that it can even be beneficial to conception. Aloisa is likely too overwhelmed by her concerns to find any joy in the act, and I’m hopeful the mixture I’ve given her will indeed help.

“A fish . . . ,” I begin.

The very idea.

“Aedre.” Aloisa’s husband opens the door and steps inside. A fisherman, he most often does not return home until much later in the evening. But the storm that arrived yesterday has lingered. It is raining even now, so I put up my hood before venturing outside.

“Are you well?” I ask.

“Well indeed.” He stops me as I make to leave. “You may wish to wait, the rain will be coming down harder soon.”

Though I adore them both, I do not wish to be trapped here all eve, nor does Aloisa wish it, I suspect, from the way she is looking at her husband.

Offering a silent blessing, I make toward the door.

“Then I shall hurry. Good eve to you both.”

Closing the door behind me, I walk quickly.

But not quickly enough. Just as I pass Sailor’s Inn, the rain falls as heavily as if someone were standing above me pouring brimming buckets over my head.

Ducking inside the tavern portion of the inn, I wonder if I made the best choice. Will it indeed rain all eve? If so, I shall simply walk home after a quick meal, resigned to remain wet.

I turn, my eyes adjusting to the dim light of candles and few lanterns, the shutters closed to ward off the rain. Then I make my way to the back of the great room and sit on a stool at the long board. I’m not far from the table where I sat with Vanni.

“Beef stew for ya, Aedre girl?”

The innkeeper himself slides a mug of ale toward me without asking. Father and I have come here many times throughout the years, the owner Neill, having been a friend of his since childhood.

“Aye, if it pleases you.”

“Pleases me plenty.” The old man shuffles off, leaving me to my thoughts, but is back again before long.

“Our finest bowl of stew, my lady.”

“Many thanks.” I toss two coins onto the board. “’Tis less crowded than I’d have thought, with the rain.”