from his mouth and nose, then rubbed him to get the blood flowing. I turned him o’er to rub his back, but nothing much seemed to be happening.
He was so very small, lying lifeless on my hand and arm.
With my palm against his tiny belly, I used my other hand to gently press the baby’s back up and down like a bellows. He spluttered and choked and wiggled and kicked. Then he cried.
After tying off the cord, I gave him to his grandmother and turned my attention back to his mother. By the time the second baby was in position, the poor girl was too depleted to push, and it took much effort from all of us to get that baby out. We worked e’en harder to get the second afterbirth, for the contractions had stopt. By the time we succeeded, the young mother was bleeding so profusely it seemed, for a time, we might yet lose her.
The other women applied herb-filled pads to stanch the flow, as I piled hides beneath her legs and backside to keep her feet and legs well above her head. I also made cold compresses from river water to chill her belly. Through it all, Syawa’s gentle ministrations kept the woman so calm she actually drifted off to sleep whilst the rest of us scrambled to save her. By late in the afternoon, clots had formed, and mother and both babies were sleeping comfortably.
Having done all I could, I staggered to the river to wash, my knees trembling from the strain of holding me up for so long. I had worked hard for maybe thirty-five hours, and my vision was beginning to blur. A soft doeskin appeared in mid-air before me; I stared at it blearily. When I managed to focus my eyes, Syawa was drying my hands, his smile smug. I wanted to say something, but ’twas all I could do to stay upright as he pulled me to my feet and put his arm ’round my shoulders to lead me back to the hut where we were staying. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the bearskin, but on the way down some small part of my mind screamed:
Three lives, three days. Three lives, three days.
Syawa had said it, and it had come to pass.
~11~
I FIRMLY BELIEVE I DID nothing extraordinary by helping with the birth of those twins. On reflection, I’m sure the women already there would have succeeded without me. But I doubt they could have managed without the calming influence of Syawa. He was the one who truly saved three lives.
So the question rolling in my mind was this—why did he want people to think it was me? Was this his way of turning me into the mystical creature he claimed me to be? Because that’s exactly what happened. The villagers considered the miraculous birth to be both confirmation of the power of the Great Seer and proof of my Divinity. I would have laughed at the notion had it not frightened me so.
A gray, stormy sky prevented us from leaving the next day, but it also gave people from far and wide an opportunity to come pay us tribute. Thus began my instruction in the delicate art of Gifting.
It was so very complicated. We hauled out all the pelts we’d collected and gave these to people to whom we were obliged—those who’d given us food, lodging, or other considerations. But we also had a pile of gifts others had given us, and I asked Syawa how we could accept these things when we must travel so lightly. He smiled and said to refuse a gift insulted the giver, but once the gift was ours, we could do with it what we would. As we gave away most of the things we’d been given, he insisted the important thing was to maintain a balance between those giving gifts and those receiving them.
Oh, but there were treacherous subtleties! For example, I wanted to give the young mother a couple of soft rabbit furs, but Syawa said I’d already given her the greatest gift and to increase her obligation would only shame her. It was hard for him to explain such complex concepts through gestures, but he patiently assured me that if we gave the wrong sort of gift to someone, we might insult that person, and if we gave no gift at all, we
He was so very small, lying lifeless on my hand and arm.
With my palm against his tiny belly, I used my other hand to gently press the baby’s back up and down like a bellows. He spluttered and choked and wiggled and kicked. Then he cried.
After tying off the cord, I gave him to his grandmother and turned my attention back to his mother. By the time the second baby was in position, the poor girl was too depleted to push, and it took much effort from all of us to get that baby out. We worked e’en harder to get the second afterbirth, for the contractions had stopt. By the time we succeeded, the young mother was bleeding so profusely it seemed, for a time, we might yet lose her.
The other women applied herb-filled pads to stanch the flow, as I piled hides beneath her legs and backside to keep her feet and legs well above her head. I also made cold compresses from river water to chill her belly. Through it all, Syawa’s gentle ministrations kept the woman so calm she actually drifted off to sleep whilst the rest of us scrambled to save her. By late in the afternoon, clots had formed, and mother and both babies were sleeping comfortably.
Having done all I could, I staggered to the river to wash, my knees trembling from the strain of holding me up for so long. I had worked hard for maybe thirty-five hours, and my vision was beginning to blur. A soft doeskin appeared in mid-air before me; I stared at it blearily. When I managed to focus my eyes, Syawa was drying my hands, his smile smug. I wanted to say something, but ’twas all I could do to stay upright as he pulled me to my feet and put his arm ’round my shoulders to lead me back to the hut where we were staying. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the bearskin, but on the way down some small part of my mind screamed:
Three lives, three days. Three lives, three days.
Syawa had said it, and it had come to pass.
~11~
I FIRMLY BELIEVE I DID nothing extraordinary by helping with the birth of those twins. On reflection, I’m sure the women already there would have succeeded without me. But I doubt they could have managed without the calming influence of Syawa. He was the one who truly saved three lives.
So the question rolling in my mind was this—why did he want people to think it was me? Was this his way of turning me into the mystical creature he claimed me to be? Because that’s exactly what happened. The villagers considered the miraculous birth to be both confirmation of the power of the Great Seer and proof of my Divinity. I would have laughed at the notion had it not frightened me so.
A gray, stormy sky prevented us from leaving the next day, but it also gave people from far and wide an opportunity to come pay us tribute. Thus began my instruction in the delicate art of Gifting.
It was so very complicated. We hauled out all the pelts we’d collected and gave these to people to whom we were obliged—those who’d given us food, lodging, or other considerations. But we also had a pile of gifts others had given us, and I asked Syawa how we could accept these things when we must travel so lightly. He smiled and said to refuse a gift insulted the giver, but once the gift was ours, we could do with it what we would. As we gave away most of the things we’d been given, he insisted the important thing was to maintain a balance between those giving gifts and those receiving them.
Oh, but there were treacherous subtleties! For example, I wanted to give the young mother a couple of soft rabbit furs, but Syawa said I’d already given her the greatest gift and to increase her obligation would only shame her. It was hard for him to explain such complex concepts through gestures, but he patiently assured me that if we gave the wrong sort of gift to someone, we might insult that person, and if we gave no gift at all, we
Similar Books
