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Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details. The Great War by Dahja Lyn
The Midwife was met at the door by the Primary Wife. She was a child herself, despite the status of head matron of the house and the children that she had already borne. She was still slender, no doubt from chasing after her children and keeping home. Fieldwork, the growing of crops and gathering of nuts, fruits, and berries also kept her, and the women of their small village, in fine shape. "Midwife, thank you for coming so quickly", said the Primary Wife respectfully. The Midwife nodded and waited expectantly. "Fawn's pains began some time ago. She took to her chamber and refused to see anyone. Had she not cried out, I would have never known the child was pushing to be born." The Midwife gestured for the Primary Wife to lead the way to Fawn's chamber. Fawn was the second wife, a young woman of fourteen, who she had seen only a month earlier; if she remembered correctly. Old age had not only twisted The Midwife's body, but also her mind, and only her oldest memories remained truly clear. The Primary Wife paused before a doorway draped with deerskin. "Fawn" she called into the chamber. "The Midwife has come to see you." She began to say more, but the Midwife pushed past her. The Midwife had no patience for spoilt children, made wives at too tender an age. The Midwife gazed about the chamber with appraising eyes. It was a respectably sized chamber, with a hearth in its midst to lend the room warmth, on cold nights. A warm bed of once-luxurious bearskin lay beneath a small window, and cushioned stools were cluttered about a sturdy table piled with clean robes. A quick glance told the Midwife that preparations had been made for the unborn child; smaller robes were folded neatly on the table and a new cradle sat waiting by the bed. The cradle itself was lovely; intricately carved and softened with rabbit fur. Fawn was sprawled on the bed, her ribs clearly defined over a swollen stomach. Limp strands of her hair hung about her gaunt and pale face and enormous eyes stared out of dark circles. The Midwife moved forward swiftly and knelt by Fawn. She placed one gnarled hand on the girl's stomach, aware that the skin was stretched dangerously thin. The child pulsated within and, for a brief moment, the Midwife feared that the child might push itself right through the thin wall of flesh encasing it. She shook her head to clear her mind of such foolish fancies and concentrated on the young woman before her. "Midwife", Fawn's voice rasped. The Midwife laid one hand on the bearskin beneath Fawn. It was matted with dried fluids and stank of urine. She reached for Fawn's forehead, but the girl batted her arm away. "Don't touch me!" "I have to touch you to get this child out." Fawn snarled, but allowed the Midwife to lay a shriveled palm on her clammy forehead. The Midwife frowned and called to the Primary Wife, who lingered by the doorway. "I need cold water and clean cloths." The Midwife paused, then rose to her feet, and approached the Primary Wife. "Send for the Holy Man. I will need his hands." The Primary Wife nodded, her eyes round with fear, and hurried off. The Midwife turned back to Fawn and found the girl weeping quietly. "I am a failure," Fawn confessed when asked. "This child is not normal. My first child will be a monster." "If your child is born abnormal, it will not be your fault. Since the Great War, many children have been born irregular. It is not the fault of the mother. It is the chemicals in our air and in our water." The Midwife began to remove the top layer of soiled bedding from beneath Fawn. "We cannot expect all children to be born as they should be. We are fortunate children are born at all." "Lily gave our husband a healthy son," Fawn said quietly, referring to the Primary Wife, "and I will give him a monster!" Fawn grasped the Midwife's hand with desperate strength. "I abhor this child, Midwife. I have seen no one since it began to move inside me. It is not natural! It is awkward and jerky!" Fawn buried her face in her hands. The Midwife sighed inwardly and squeezed the girl's bony hand. "I have sent for the Holy Man, Fawn." The Midwife spoke in a reassuring tone, aware that the words must be spoken; aware that the words were devastating. "I fear that the child will not be born healthy. I also fear that you may not survive. The child has drained you; taken your spirit." She stopped. Fawn wept openly, her slight form shuddering from the strength of her sobs. The Midwife moved without thought and pulled the girl into her arms. She was old and life had hardened her over the years, but she still knew compassion. Hot tears fell on her withered breast and warm breath misted on her collar. She only held the girl closer and tighter, and waited for the younger woman's tears to end.
Fawn was drying her eyes when the Primary Wife returned with a large pot of water and fresh deerskin cloths. The Holy Man followed her silently. The Primary Wife set the water by the Midwife and handed her the cloths. "I have sent for our husband, Fawn, so that he might be with you." Fawn looked away and began to sob quietly once more. The Midwife nodded. She thought it proper that a man be by his wife when she brought his seed to life, no matter how many wives he had. Before the Great War, men had only one wife but there had been more men and no burning need to increase the population then. The women had not outnumbered the men. The Great War was long before the Midwife's time, but the stories that had passed through the generations had been horrific. The Holy Man smiled at her, his eyes soft and yeaning. She felt a blush creep into her old cheeks. Her memories of him were clear; he had been a handsome man, a man who enjoyed the attentions of many maidens hoping to claim him as husband. That had been long before he had been deemed Holy. He had been a skilled hunter, and a passionate youth. She had been flattered when his attentions turned to her and they had spent many evenings basking in one another's glow. They had even spoken casually of marriage, of children, and old age. Then death had claimed him momentarily and he had been named Holy. No Holy Man had ever married, for his responsibilities were to his village, not to wives and babies. Finding no other man as appealing, she had gone to the village Midwife and become her apprentice. Though permitted to marry, it was never forced on her, as it was on so many young women. Many felt that a married Midwife would have less time and attention for expectant matrons. "I am going to bath you, Fawn," the Midwife said primly. "The water will be cold, but I hope to bring down your fever." She opened Fawn's robe carefully and began to caress the skin with a wet cloth. The Holy Man withdrew to the hearth and coaxed a flame from the glowing embers. Once she had dried Fawn and wrapped her in a fresh robe, the Midwife joined the Holy Man at the hearth. Quietly, she explained her fears. He nodded and smiled gravely. "She will feel a great deal of pain when the child begins its descent," she said, "so much pain that she may fall to darkness". Fawn screamed sharply, and the two elders started. They rose from the hearth in unison and hurried to the bedside. The Holy Man clasped one of Fawn's small hands in both of his and whispered words of encouragement. "You must pull yourself up on the bed, Fawn, so that your back is bent." The Midwife instructed. The Holy Man helped Fawn slide up the bed and supported her back with a bundle of robes. The Midwife forced Fawn's knees up and apart and peered between her thin thighs. "The child is coming now, Fawn. You must help it." Fawn grunted. Blood and birthing fluids poured from her as the child struggled. The Midwife placed a hand on Fawn's middle, feeling for the child's progress. "Push the child out, Fawn." Fawn obliged, her body strained and she cried out hoarsely. The Holy Man did not release her hand, but held tighter as he chanted a prayer. "Push hard, I can see the head!" Fawn roared with pain, her little body covered with beads of perspiration. "It's coming, Fawn!" However, Fawn had fallen into darkness, her head lolling back on her neck. The Midwife slid a hand beneath the child and eased her out, into the world. She gazed at the child with fascination, then hurried to tend to the small child. Once the child was wiped and warmed, the Midwife returned to Fawn. The Holy Man had cleaned her up quickly and efficiently, and covered her discreetly. She lay beneath a clean robe, a bruised and exhausted child. The Holy Man looked into the Midwife's lovely eyes. They shone with tears as she gazed at Fawn. "Her heart stopped as the child left her body," the Holy Man said softly. "Fawn --- ?" The voice was choked and deep with pain, and the Midwife looked up into the doorway. The husband stood by the Primary Wife. The Midwife approached the husband, who watched her with sad, dark eyes. "Your daughter," the Midwife said softly, "is the most beautiful child I have ever seen." The End
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