The queen cried out again. Dagorian jerked at the sound, then pushed himself to his feet and walked from the camp.
For more than an hour the group waited, and there was little sound from within the roofless tent. Then Bison emerged, wandered to the fire and ate some of the hot oats Kebra had prepared for breakfast. The bowman approached him.
‘What is happening?’ asked Kebra.
‘She is resting a little,’ the giant told him.
‘How soon will she have the child?’
Bison shrugged. ‘The water sac has burst and the baby is on its way. How long? I don’t know. Another hour. Perhaps two or three. Maybe more.’
‘That’s not very precise,’ snapped Kebra. ‘I thought you were an expert in this.’
‘Expert? A few times doesn’t make you an expert. All I know is that there are three stages to birthing. The first is under way. The baby is moving.’
‘And the second?’
‘The contractions will become more severe as the child enters the birth canal and on into the vagina.’
Kebra smiled. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you use the correct term.’
‘I’m not in the mood for jokes at the moment,’ said Bison. ‘She’s a slim girl, and this is the first child. There’s likely to be a lot of torn flesh. And I know little of what to do if anything goes wrong. Has anyone tried again to wake the priestess?’
z66
‘I’ll sit by her,’ promised Kebra.
‘You do that. Smack her face. Pour water on her. Anything.’
‘As soon as she wakes I’ll send her to you.’
Bison rose and ambled back to the tent. Kebra moved to the sleeping priestess. She was no longer bathed in sweat. Her skin was clear and firm, and Kebra was surprised to see how pretty she was now that the excess flesh was gone. And she looked so much younger. He had thought her to be in her forties, but now he saw she was – despite the grey in her blond hair – at least ten years younger. He took her hand and squeezed her fingers. ‘Can you hear me, lady?’ he said. But she did not stir.
The morning wore on, the sun climbing towards noon. Nogusta, normally so cool and in control, was pacing the camp. Once he approached the tent and called out to Bison. The response was short, coarse and to the point. Nogusta strode to the stream. Kebra, still unable to wake the priestess, joined him there.
‘We are losing the time we gained at the bridge,’ said Nogusta. ‘If this goes on much longer the enemy will be upon us.’
‘Bison doesn’t know how long the labour will last. It could be hours yet.’
Nogusta suddenly smiled. ‘Would you want Bison as the midwife to your first-born?’
‘It is a ghastly thought,’ admitted Kebra.
Chapter Nine
No nightmare ever suffered by Axiana had been worse than this. Her dress removed, her bare feet pressing into the damp earth, her lower back a rhythmic sea of pain, she squatted like a peasant beneath an open sky. Her emotional state had been fragile ever since the horror of the events at the house of Kalizkan, and everything since had conspired to fill her with terrible fear. Her husband was dead, her life as a royal princess a diminishing memory. All her life she had been pampered, never knowing hunger or poverty; the heat of summer kept from her by servants with peacock fans, the cold of winter barred from the palace by warm fires and fine clothes of wool.
Only days ago she had been sitting in a padded satin chair amid the splendour of the royal apartments, servants everywhere. And despite her husband’s disdain of her, she had been the queen of a great empire.
Now, naked and frightened, she squatted in a forest, wracked with pain, and waiting to birth a king in the wet and the mud.
Beside her the giant, Bison, was supporting her weight. His ugly face was close to hers, and when she turned her head she could feel the coarseness of his bristling moustache against the skin of her face. His left hand was rubbing gently across the base of her spine, easing the pain there. Back in Usa Ulmenetha had showed her the