Tidelands

“We can all give thanks that she had a safe birth,” Alinor said. “In church or out of it.”

“Thanks are due to you too,” the older woman said. “You have all your mother’s gifts. You have a way with a woman at her time that is like magic.”

It was a dangerous word to use, even in praise. The older women turned and looked at Alinor to see what she might admit.

“There’s no magic,” Alinor insisted. “It’s not magic. Don’t say such a thing! It’s just trusting to the Lord and having attended so many births.”

“And yet you don’t have a license from the bishop?”

“I had my license, of course; but His Grace hasn’t been seen in his palace at Chichester for months, not since the siege. I’ve asked, and asked, but nobody knows how a midwife gets her license now.”

Both older women shook their heads. “Well, someone has to give you a license,” Mrs. Johnson ruled. “For there isn’t a woman in all of Sealsea Island who would have anyone else attend them.”

“Though it was a pity about your sister-in-law,” Mrs. Johnson added.

An old pang of grief shook Alinor. “Yes,” she agreed. “Some things are mysteries. It’s God’s will, not ours. I’m so glad that Margaret came through safe.”

“And a man midwife is just ungodly. What shameless woman would want a man at a time like this?”

“I’m glad it went so well,” Alinor said, gathering up her things: the sharp knife for cutting the cord, the clean string for tying it off, the oils in the bottles, the tincture of arnica and the St. John’s Wort for the bruising and the pain. “I’ll come back this afternoon.”

“Come in the morning?” Margaret’s sleepy voice came from the bed.

“It’s morning already,” Alinor said, lifting the corner of the tapestry and seeing the pearly light of the summer day. “Your first morning as a mother. Your baby’s first dawn.”

“You’ll see a lot more dawns,” her mother-in-law predicted grimly. “All the babies in our family wake early.”

The young wife was drowsy on her pillow in the best bed. “Don’t be late.” She opened her eyes and smiled at Alinor. “I shall look for you this afternoon.”

“I won’t be late,” Alinor promised. “You can count on me.”

Farmer Johnson sent her home in the clear dawn light, riding pillion on his horse behind the groom, to her brother’s ferry-house. Alinor was seated high on the plow horse, a tiny crescent moon like a clipped silver coin in the light sky above her, water rising in the rife, when she saw a figure on the other side. He was riding down the road towards the ferry. She recognized him at once: James Summer, the man she loved, come home to her as he promised, within the month.

Alinor dismounted from the farmer’s horse, said a word of thanks to the stable lad, and stood and watched her brother pull the ferry over the water, hand over hand on the overhead rope. She saw James lead his horse down the bank, and its nervous steps onto the rocking ferry. The two men crossed in silence, and then they went either side of the horse to lead it off the ferry and up the cobbled bank on the island side.

“He should know it by now, he’s done it a dozen times,” Ned remarked to James, patting the horse. “I’ve seen horses get used to cannon and musket fire within a day. He’s an island horse, he knows the ferry, he’s just playing with you.”

“Did you see cavalry in the war?” James asked. He turned and gave Alinor a smile just for her, shielded beneath his hat. “Good day to you, Goodwife Reekie. You’re up very early?”

“Yes. At Marston Moor,” Ned said, naming Oliver Cromwell’s first great victory. “That was all in the hands of the cavalry. And many of us had never seen fighting but had only practiced standing and facing a charge, marching to the right, falling back and reforming, in the fields. But the horses bore it as if they knew it was the right thing to do.”

“So I heard,” James said blandly. He paid over his penny for the one-way passage and Ned tucked the coin into his pocket.

“I think your lord was on the other side,” Ned goaded the stranger. “Sir William? On the losing side. God commanded the victory to the godly and Sir William was in the wrong. He wasn’t lord of everything, that day.”

James sidestepped the challenge. “I didn’t know him in those days. I was appointed only last month to tutor Walter and prepare him for Cambridge.”

“From what?” Ned asked suspiciously.

“I beg your pardon?”

“What were you doing before?”

“Teaching another family,” James lied easily.

“And you teach my nephew too, don’t you? I’m Rob’s uncle, Mrs. Reekie’s brother.”

“I do,” James said cheerfully. “And I know of you, of course, Mr. Ferryman. Robert is a very keen clever young man. When Master Walter goes to university I should think Robert could get an apprenticeship, perhaps as a clerk to a physician. He knows more about medicines and herbs and oils than I do. He’s a very unusual young man.” He slid a smile at Alinor, who still sat on the farmer’s horse, looking at the two men.

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Ned said proudly. “And she learned from our mother, and she from hers and so it goes backwards.”