Clandestine by Mynameishuman

Sometimes, Death Preludes Beauty

The pounding of booted feet slapped across the bamboo floor, rushing in the direction of the group gathered around the birthing bed.

“I can’t stop the bleeding.”

“Here; I’ve brought the linens.”

“Place them there.”

The owner of the booted feet laid the linens beside the midwife, her stomach rolling at the sight of so much blood. The quiet cry of a newborn babe went ignored in the background.

“Please,” the lady of the house said tiredly, lifting her hand toward her crying infant. “Let me see the babe.”

“My lady, that’s not important right now. I must stop your bleeding,” the midwife implored, repacking the birthing canal with berberry in hopes it would slow the flow of the bright red fluid. She briefly turned her attention to the maids. “Help me sit her up.”

With blood covered hands, the midwife directed the lady to open her mouth.

“Hold this beneath your tongue until I say. Do not swallow it.”

“No,” the lady said, shaking her head. “I’m dying; I know this. Please, I just want to hold my baby before I go.”

The handmaidens looked at their lady with pity before turning their eyes to the midwife, awaiting direction.

With a heavy sigh, the midwife relented. The lady was right; she was dying. While it wasn’t a gushing hemorrhage, it was nonetheless significant and showed no signs of stopping or slowing, despite her interventions. She was at an unfortunate loss.

“Bring the babe,” she said, and in short order, the infant was placed in her mothers awaiting arms. “A girl.”

The handmaids all turned, giving their lady privacy, but the midwife was ever watchful. She empathized with the lady. Two lives would be destroyed this night. One would be lost; the other forever altered. What would become of the orphaned babe? Her father was long dead in battle and her mother, fighting a battle of her own, would be soon to follow.

“Bring me parchment and ink,” the lady ordered her nearest handmaiden. “I must write my cousin.”

“My lady, surely now is not the time.”

“Now is exactly the time. Quit delaying and bring what I’ve requested.”

Sitting up further, the lady pressed her babes face to her breast, holding her in place with one hand and with the other she set to issue a shaky-handed letter to her cousin in the hopes that her daughter would be safe in her death.

Folding the parchment as well as she could with one hand, she poured candle wax over it to seal it and pressed her family crest into the wax as it dried.

“Take this to the Western lands,” the lady said as she rested against her bedding, breathing labored and sickly pale. “Deliver it to the Lord and Lady of the House of the West. Take the babe with you.”

“My lady?”

Her handmaidens were clearly confused, and she couldn’t fault them for that. Unlatching her daughter from her breast, she pressed her lips to the infants forehead whispering her goodbyes before handing the baby over along with the sealed parchment.

“Lady Izayoi,” the lady clarified softly to her handmaiden. “Deliver the letter and the babe to Lady Izayoi and her Lord. The letter explains everything. She will know what do.”

As expected of the handmaiden, she turned to follow her orders but stopped short just before the exit.

“What is her name? The babe, I mean. You should give her a name.”

“Kagome,” the lady whispered, her eyes falling shut in exhaustion and blood loss. “Her name is Kagome.”