Bronze didn’t seem the least bit sorry to see him go. Even so, he made sure he closed and barred the door behind him when he left. Now that she was a mother again, the female moncat wouldn’t be quite so agile as usual, but he didn’t want her getting away anyhow. If she escaped, she could still find places to go from which no mere human could easily retrieve her.
Lanius hurried through the palace to the birthing chamber. He’d been born there himself. Since then, the room had been used to store this, that, and the other thing… till Sosia realized she was going to have a baby. Then the servants quietly took away crates and barrels and sacks and got the chamber ready for its most important function.
A couple of serving women stood outside the doorway now. “You know you can’t go in there, Your Majesty,” one of them said. “It isn’t customary.” She’d never had the chance to tell the King of Avornis what he could and couldn’t do before. It isn’t customary, though, said everything that needed saying.
“Yes, I know that,” Lanius said. Ever since his wife got pregnant, people had been telling him what was and wasn’t customary. He raised his voice and called, “Are you all right, Sosia?”
“It’s not too bad so far,” Sosia answered. “My waters broke—that’s what they call it—and they brought me in here to…” She paused. After half a minute or so, she went on, “That was a pang. It wasn’t much fun, but I could stand it.”
“Have you sent for the midwife?” Lanius asked the serving women.
They both nodded. The one who’d spoken before sounded a little put out as she replied, “We certainly have, Your Majesty. And we sent a messenger to the arch-hallow, to ask him to pray for Her Majesty.”
Would the prayers of Grus’ bastard sway the gods? They might, Lanius supposed—after all, Anser was praying for his half sister. Still, it was irregular.
“Here comes the midwife,” the other maidservant said, pointing up the corridor. “Her name’s Netta, Your Majesty. She’s the best one in the city.”
“I should hope so,” Lanius said; that the Queen of Avornis should have anything but the best in any way had never crossed his mind.
Netta was somewhere in middle age, with one of those strong faces that looked little different at thirty-five and sixty. Plainly, she had no use—or, better, no time—for nonsense. “Hello, Your Majesty,” she said, startling Lanius by speaking to him as one equal to another. “Before long, you’ll have yourself a little boy or a little girl. I expect everything to go just fine.”
“Good,” Lanius said. “Why do you expect that?”
“Because it usually does. If it didn’t, we’d run short on people, eh?” Netta said. “I’m ready in case things turn sour, but I don’t expect them to. You understand what I’m saying? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
I don’t want you joggling my elbow, was what she plainly meant. Lanius asked, “Can I do anything to help you?”
That did surprise Netta, just a little. She shook her head. The big gold hoops she wore in her ears flipped back and forth. “All you have to do is stay out here and wait till you hear the baby yowl.” She started into the birthing chamber, then checked herself. “Oh, one other thing—don’t get upset by whatever noises you hear before the baby’s born. Women in labor aren’t quiet— believe me they aren’t. All right?”
“All right,” Lanius answered—she did want him to keep out of her hair. But what else could he do? He felt singularly useless.
Netta eyed him, as though to make sure he meant what he said. At last, satisfied, she nodded. Into the birthing chamber she went. For good measure, she closed the door behind her. She didn’t need to do that, Lanius thought. I wasn’t going to look in. I don’t think I was, anyhow.
She’d also shut the door on the two serving women, of course. One of them asked, “May I get you a chair, Your Majesty?”
“Please.” Lanius wouldn’t have thought of sitting down if the serving woman hadn’t suggested it. He’d expected to pace back and forth till Sosia delivered their child, however long that took. How long would it take? He didn’t know. This was the first birth with which he’d ever concerned himself. Some went faster than others—he did know that much.
When the servant came back with a chair, he perched nervously on the edge of it. Then he got up and started pacing again. He paced for a while, sat for a while, paced for a while. He expected to hear strange noises from the birthing chamber. For a long time, though, he heard nothing at all, except occasionally the midwife’s voice or his wife’s coming faintly through the closed door.
Word of Sosia’s confinement spread through the palace. Estrilda came to the birthing chamber. The serving women let her inside, which irked Lanius. Netta didn’t throw her out, either, which irked him more. What a stupid custom, he thought. Just because I’m a man, that doesn’t mean I’m worthless.
A great many Avornan customs kept women from doing things they might have done. A great many customs assumed they were worthless, or else simply ignorant. Lanius had never stopped to wonder about those. Why should he have? They didn’t pinch him.
After half an hour or so, Sosia’s mother came out again. She nodded to Lanius. “Everything seems to be going as well as it can. Her pangs are coming closer together, the way they should. Netta knows her business, too.”
“That’s good.” Lanius got up from the chair. “Here—sit down.” To the serving women, he said, “Bring us another one, please.”
“And food, and wine,” Estrilda said. “We’re going to be here for a while.”
The serving woman curtsied to her. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said, and hurried away.
She came back leading a manservant, who carried a chair for Lanius. The woman bore a tray with bread, a pot of honey, a jar of wine, and two cups. Lanius poured for himself and Estrilda. No indignity to a king’s pouring for a queen, especially if she was also his mother-in-law.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Queen Estrilda was always polite to Lanius. “Here, let me get you some bread. Do you want honey to go with it?”
“Yes, please. Thank you very much.” Lanius took the bread, ate half of it, and then said, “You’re sure everything’s all right?”
“It seemed to be,” Estrilda said, as she had before. “These things go on and on for a while before a woman really gets down to business.” She looked down into her cup, then softly added, “I remember.”
If you didn’t remember, I wouldn’t have a wife, Lanius thought. And I wouldn’t have Ortalis to worry about. Is that a good bargain, or a bad one? He couldn’t very well ask Estrilda. Instead, he picked a safer question, saying, “How long is a while?”
She shrugged. “Nobody can guess ahead of time. It could be a few hours, or it could be most of a day or even all day. It varies from woman to woman, and it varies from baby to baby, too. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“All right.” Lanius didn’t know what else to say. He’d always wanted definite answers to his questions, but this question didn’t seem to have one. He wished it did.
He and Queen Estrilda drank more wine. They finished the loaf of bread. The serving woman brought another, and cheese and sausage to go with it. Lanius had had what amounted to supper before he thought about eating food better suited to a farmer or a soldier than a king. Estrilda seemed to take it for granted. Surely she’d never gone into the field with Grus?
Before Lanius could ask about that, Estrilda said, “Food like this takes me back to the days when we didn’t have much. Grus’ father was just a guardsman, you know, and his father was a peasant down in the south.”