"Mother?" Sister Columba spoke hesitantly.

The abbess looked at the young nun, then patted her arm. "Go and be with your friend," she said in kindly tones. "Keep us informed, Columba."

"Yes, Reverend Mother."

"I will come to the guest house with what you need," old Sister Winifred said to Orva, and she moved off.

"I'll come back with you now," Elf’s best friend said.

"Birthing is bloody work," Orva said to the nun. "You don't go faint at the sight of blood, do you, sister?"

"I don't know. I've never seen a lot of blood."

Orva shrugged. "If you think you're going to faint, just get out of the way, sister. It’s not likely I'd have time for you if my mistress is in difficult straits."

"How long will it take for the baby to be born?"

"Some come quick. Others seem to take forever. We'll need your prayers, sister."

"The others are praying," Sister Columba said quickly. "I can do more than that surely. I want to help, not stand about wringing my hands at Elf’s every cry."

"Praise be to Mary," Orva said, pleased. "I can use all the help I can get, sister. Willa, my lady’s serving wench, is young, and while she’s seen two of her brothers and her baby sister born, I need more help than she can offer."

The two women entered the guest house. Willa had not been idle. She had gotten her mistress out of her wet chemise, and put a dry one on her. Elf was now back in her bed in the dormitory while Willa struggled to pull and push the refectory table in the guest hall over by the fireplace. It would be used as a birthing table, for the convent had no birthing chair, never having needed one. Sister Columba, seeing what Willa was doing, hurried to help.

" 'Twould be better if we had a birthing chair," Orva said despairingly, "but we'll take what we can and do as best as we can. Where is the lady, girl?"

"She is resting, Ma."

Orva cuffed her daughter lightly. "You know better than to let her lie down!" She stamped into the dormitory, where Elf lay pale and nervous. "Up with you, my lady," she said briskly, and helped Elf to her feet. "Lying about will not help your child to be born.

Have you any pains yet?"

"Nay," Elf said low.

"Well, they'll come soon enough now that your waters have broken," Orva said matter-of-factly. "You must walk, lady. The sooner this child is born, the better you'll be." Putting Elf’s cloak about her, she walked her out into the hall, through the door, and into the cloister. "We'll walk together, lady, about the quadrangle. Your pains will soon begin."

"Ranulf," Elf said. "We must send for my husband."

"A man’s no use, lady, at a time like this," Orva said in practical tones. "When the child is born, then we'll send for him."

"But what if I die?" Elf voiced her greatest fear.

"It happens," Orva said, "but I don't see it happening to you, lady. You are small, but you are very strong."

They walked… and they walked. The damask rosebushes about them were coming into full, profuse bloom. The air was spicy sweet with their fragrance. It was a sunny day, and a light breeze carried the perfume of the rose to them as they traveled about the cloister. Finally Orva allowed them a rest. They sat together upon a small stone bench.

"Have you any pain, lady?"

"Not real pain," Elf said, "but I suddenly feel very, very uncomfortable in my nether regions. I feel heavy there, as if something were about to burst forth from within me."

"Let us walk back to the guest house," Orva suggested. From Elf’s words she ascertained the baby’s birth might be sooner than later.

Elf stood up. "Owwwwwwwwww!" She doubled over.

Orva put an arm about her mistress, and half forced her to move forward toward the guest house. Once inside she signaled to Willa, and together they helped Elf to get upon the birthing table.

"Sister, come, and stand behind your friend. Brace her so she is sitting up," Orva instructed the nun. "Lady, put your legs up, and open them for me. I must examine you now." Orva bent down, and peered hard at her patient. It was exactly as she had thought. This child was going to come quickly, and be a very easy birth. The lady was fortunate. The child’s head was just barely visible. "Put my apron on, Willa," she told her daughter, "and then bring me a basin of water and a carafe of wine. You know what I will need." Orva looked at Elf. "Lady, the heaviness you sense is your child pushing its way from your body. It is coming quickly. Do not push yourself no matter how desperately you want to until I tell you to do so." Orva stood still a moment while Willa tied a large apron about her. Then she washed her hands thoroughly first with wine, and then soap and water. "Do you have a knife to cut the cord and swaddling for the child?" she inquired of Willa.

"Aye, Ma," the girl replied.

"I have brought Eleanore herbs to dull her pain during her travail," Sister Winifred said, bustling into the hall.

"We are not going to need the herbs, good sister," Orva told the elderly nun. "This child will be born quickly. Will you remain, and help me?"

Elf moaned.

Sister Winifred took up a clean cloth, and dipped it in the bucket of cool water. She wiped Elf’s beaded brow. "There, child, you are but suffering what our Blessed Mother suffered, and is that not true glory?"

Sister Joseph, the faint aroma of the stables about her, arrived lugging a small manger. "I have brought the smallest of the feeding troughs for the child," she said. "It is thoroughly scrubbed, and lined with clean straw strewn with sweet clover and grass. There is a linen cloth over it all. The baby will be quite safe in it as we have no cradle." She plunked the wooden manger down. "If it was good enough for the Christ Child, it is good enough for this child," she finished pithily "How is she doing?"

"Very well," Orva said.

"I will never do this again!" Elf said piteously. "Why did no one tell me it hurt so much to have a baby? Ohhhhhh!"

"Hush, lady, you are having a very easy time of it," Orva scolded her.

"I want to push!" Elf cried.

"Wait!" Orva told her. "Now! Push now, lady, as hard as you can! Brace her well, Sister Columba!"

Elf screamed, pushing hard, struggling to rid her body of this bulk that threatened to tear her asunder.

"Come on, Eleanore de Montfort, you can do it!" Sister Joseph encouraged the straining woman.

Sister Winifred slipped a small leaf into Elf’s mouth. "Chew on it, dear," she said. " It will give you strength."

"Ohhhhhh!" Elf wailed again. Then she looked back at her friend. "Be glad you are a nun, Matti!" she half sobbed. She could feel the mass inside her propelling itself forward. The pressure was fierce. She groaned again.

"Wait!" Orva commanded sternly. Then, "Now! Push, lady!"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" Elf’s beautiful face was concentrated in her great effort.

"The head! I see the head!" Orva said excitedly. "Just a few more pushes, and we will have the child, lady. Be brave! When the next pain comes bear down with all of your might."

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Elf screamed, her face squeezing itself tightly again. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh!"

Orva’s face was now a mask of total attention as she went about her duties. The child’s shoulders and partial upper body slid forth. Gently she turned it, wiping its little face. Two blue eyes glared at her. The small mouth opened to draw its first breath.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" Elf moaned, pushing again as hard as she might. She was so tired. She had never been so tired in all her life.

"Just one more time, lady!" Orva said.

"I don't think I can," Elf protested.

"You must. It is almost born. Just one big push, lady!"

Elf bore down with every bit of strength she had. She was rewarded by a blessed feeling of relief as the child slipped completely from her body, and howled mightily.

"It is a boy!" Orva crowed. "Ashlin has its next lord, praise be to God, our Father, His blessed son, Lord Jesu, and our Mother Mary!"

"Amen! Amen!" the nuns with them echoed, their faces wreathed in smiles of delight. Surely this child was a special child, having been born in their convent.

"This is a fine day for a boy to be born," Sister Joseph announced. "May thirtieth is St. Hubert’s feast day, and he is the patron of hunters. Eleanore de Montfort, your son must have Hubert as part of his name, eh? What will you call him?"

"Simon," Elf said. "Ranulf and I discussed it, and we decided to call our son Simon, after his father. He will be baptized Simon Hubert. Is Father Anselm here? Simon must be baptized immediately. Someone send for my husband. Ranulf must know he has a son. Ah! Orva, I yet have pain. What is it?"

"Just the afterbirth, lady. Willa, hand me that basin!"

About them everyone worked busily. Sister Winifred had cut the baby’s cord, and neatly knotted it. She and Sister Joseph gently bathed the infant first in wine, then warm water, and finally olive oil. She handed him off to Sister Columba, who swaddled the baby in soft linen cloth. Willa had taken the younger nun’s place, bracing Elf up while her mother saw to the afterbirth, which was set aside in its basin to be buried beneath an oak tree later. Elf was cleaned up, put into yet another clean chemise, and carried by the strong Orva to her bed. Sister Winifred brought the new mother a cup of strong wine with a raw egg beaten into it, and laced with herbs to help her sleep.