A Scruple of Saffron. (A novella) by N.J. Layouni

Author:N.J. Layouni
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: N.J. Layouni
Published: 2019-12-27T17:07:44+00:00

Chapter Seven

Effie sat at Martha’s beside, her eyes wide with concern. Stroking Martha’s sodden hair back from her forehead, she placed a deliciously cold compress upon her feverish skin. “All will be well, m’lady,” she said quietly. “Just you wait and see.”

Unconvinced, Martha grunted in reply and gripped the coverlet as another contraction began building.

“Here. Take my hand,” Effie said, forcing Martha’s fingers to relinquish their death grip on the bed-cover.

“No… ” Martha panted. “I’ll b-break your f-fingers.”

“Believe me, m’lady, I am far hardier than you give me credit for.”

The overwhelming need to push annihilated the remainder of Martha’s self-control. She screamed, the feral sound ripping from her throat.

Pain. Such all-consuming pain. She couldn’t do this anymore. But she had no choice.

“No. Not yet!” Ma cried, pushing down on Martha’s belly as if by doing so she could delay the inevitable. “Breathe for me, lass. Breathe through the waves while I try and disentangle their limbs. Agatha, bring me that twine. Quickly now!”

No one spoke while Ma worked, but Martha felt the other women breathing right along with her, willing her not to push. Puffing and panting, she somehow managed to hold back as Ma fumbled around with her insides. She tried to imagine a warm desert island with gentle azure waves lapping lazily upon the shore, but it was no use. All she could see was her massively distended belly shining like a dome in the candle light, and the frightened face of her maid.

Another contraction began. An even bigger one this time. Oh, how she wanted to push! She… needed… to…

“Please!” she screamed on a sob.

“Nearly there.” Ma gently pulled on the twine, and Martha felt a sudden movement within her body. A slight shifting as though something tight had given way. Thankfully, the need to push eased a little.

With a small sound of satisfaction, Ma leaned gently on Martha’s belly. “Harken to me, lass. I know you’re tired, but if we don’t deliver these babies soon they’ll die, and you along with them.”

“Tell me… something I don’t… know,” Martha growled through her gritted teeth.

“Then do precisely as I bid you, exactly when I tell you to. Yes?”

“Yes. Oooh.” There was another tugging sensation within her belly, and a peculiar feeling of adjustment as something slowly slipped into place. The urge to push returned and this time it was impossible to resist.

“Now?” she gasped, her eyes clenched tightly shut.

“Yes. Now! Push, lass. Bear down gently, now. Slower… slower! Yes. His head is almost… out!”

Martha screamed as something roughly the size of a small boulder popped out from her aching nether regions.

“Good. Stop pushing, lass. Pant for me. Agatha, do you have the—? Ah. Thank you. Be ready. Alright, m’lady.” Martha opened her eyes and saw Ma smiling her familiar gummy grin from between her open thighs. “I need you to push again.”

Martha didn’t need telling twice. “Oh, thank Christ!” Fearing Ma would tell her to stop again, she took a deep breath and pushed.

Beside her, Effie gave a

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