Livingstone Saga, Book One: Birth

by Janell Rhiannon

  “I cannot. I am afraid,” she said.

  “You must. To save him.”

  “Save who?”

  “Him.”

  Fear stretched across her skin. Her feet froze. It is a claw! “There is no conqueror, but God,” she spoke into the face of Evil. The light at the end of the stairs blinked black. The claw receded from sight. She was falling now.

  Her eyes flashed open in panic as she instinctively grabbed her bed linen to stop the falling sensation. She sat up and surveyed the room. Everything was absolutely still. The vision felt similar to those God sent to guide her hands as a Maker. But, this one felt heavy, terrifying, not inspiring. Then, she thought she saw something move in the corner of her eye in the mirror, but when she looked directly at it, it was gone.

  She whispered, “Celestino?” into the silent tranquil dark. Sweat beaded on her brow. She lit a candle and tried to conjure an image of Celestino as the gargoyle curled up sleeping in the corner of her bed chamber. She recalled the evening she had awakened and found him curled in the corner of her room deep in slumber. She had gone back to sleep, never speaking of it to him for fear he would withdraw his presence all together. As far as she knew, Celestino remained oblivious of her knowledge of his secret.

  In the morning, she opened the heavy curtains of her chamber windows. Light flooded every corner of her private apartment. She needed the warmth of the light to chase the cold of the dark vision far from her thoughts. She paced with her hand on her belly and caressed the growing swell hidden by the flowing folds of her gown.

  Iseo filled her world with work. It helped her to bury the bittersweet memories of Celestino. Since she had been introduced to the intimacy between a husband and wife, she found her thoughts about Celestino became more provocative. She knew that his love was the only love that could fill what she ached for in her heart. And she knew she would never possess it. It was forbidden by the Codex and tradition. Laying intimately with Celestino would be considered more sinful than laying with a man, because he was not just any man. He was God’s instrument on earth. She knew this as she carved him. She knew this as she taught him how to live in her world, the human world. Unfortunately, the memory of how his lips had burned hers refused to disappear. So, she sought to vanquish it into the netherworld by busying herself with midwifery. As Madia had taught her, there was always a child coming into the world, thanks to the base desires of men.

  The familiar hurried knock on her door refocused her attention on the present moment. As she walked to open the door, she heard a young girl’s voice, “Mi Señora! Mi Señora! The babe is coming now.” Iseo opened the door to find Hafsa’s eldest granddaughter. “My grandmother has asked for you to come now!”

  Iseo put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, and spoke reassuringly, “Do not fear. We will make it to your mother in time. The palace is not so grand we will lose track of her.”

  “Sí, mi Señora,” the girl bowed her head in deference to the queen.

  “Your grandmother was right to call for me. But first, I must gather my things. Entonces, we will see your mother safely delivered of her child.” Iseo smiled.

  *

  Late into the evening, Iseo walked to her private chamber only to find a boy servant waiting at her door. “I beg your pardon, mi Señora. His Majesty requested your presence in his chamber when you returned from your purposeful work.”

  “Tell my husband I will be there as soon as I am presentable.”

  The servant toed a crack in the stone floor with the tip of his sandal. “I beg your pardon, mi Señora, but he requests you come to his chamber without any delay.”

  Iseo contemplated the messenger. “We leave straight away.”

  The young man looked visibly relieved. “Sí, mi Señora. I will lead the way for you.” When they arrived before the king’s door, the young man bowed and scurried down the hall. Iseo knocked and the door opened from inside. As she passed through, the servant who opened the door swiftly switched positions with her and shut the door behind her.

  “Nassir?” she spoke as she walked deeper into the chamber. “I am here, as you requested.”

  Her husband appeared from behind a screen. He wore a simple tunic and had removed his turban. She smiled at him from across the room. He opened his arms, signaling her to come to him, and she did. He embraced her as one embraces their beloved.

  “I apologize for my disheveled appearance, but your messenger said I was to come without delay.”

  He chuckled, “That was my request. For if you delayed, all of this,” he clapped his hands twice, “would have gone to waste.” Two servants moved the screen. Behind it, Al-Nassir revealed a stone tub built into the ground filled with steaming milky colored water. Candles of all sizes circled the square pool.

  The gesture and its beauty stunned Iseo. She asked, “How? When?”

  “You have been working much wife. And spending far too much time alone in your private chamber.” He took her hand and pulled her close. “I built the bath to entice you to desire my company more often.”

  Her husband’s sincerity caused her guilt to stain her cheeks, which he mistook for modesty. He clapped his hands twice and a man appeared seemingly from thin air. “You may leave,” the king said. “Anything my queen desires, I will attend to myself.”

  “Majesty.” He bowed and disappeared without even the slightest hint of noise.

  The king turned all his attention to his wife. “Now, it is time for you to enjoy your milk and almond honey bath.”

  “I have never bathed in anything as luxurious as this,” Iseo said. She felt the nerves rising to her stomach. She would have to undress in front of him. There would be no where to hide, no welcomed privacy screens and no comfortable darkness, only the illuminating pale glow of dozens of candles.

  The king, sensing her dilemma, turned his back. “Unless you require my assistance with undressing?”

  “No, I can manage,” she said thankfully. Within moments she slipped into the silky water. The king turned around, pleased to see her immersed in his newly built bath. Unlike her, he needed no privacy to disrobe and enter the water. Iseo feared he would move toward her too quickly, but he regaled her with the political tale of the day.

  “Are you familiar with the kings of England?” he asked casually.

  “I suppose I am familiar with who they are, never having met any of them in person.”

  “You would be surprised to hear who visited my court this afternoon.”

  Iseo asked, “Someone from England?”

  “Not just anyone, my Iseo. An envoy of King John himself,” he said. “Privately and unofficially of course.”

  “King John sent an envoy here? To Seville?” Iseo asked incredulously.

  “It seems he has been excommunicated by your Pope in Italia.”

  “Monarchs and Popes have long had contentious relations with one another.”

  “The king made an interesting offer,” al-Nassir said, maintaining his casual tone.

  “What did he offer?”

  “It appears he has lost control of his kingdom. And the French are preparing to invade his realm.”

  “Did he ask for supplies? Soldiers?”

  “He did.”

  “What price did you ask for such help?” Iseo completely lost herself in the conversation. She forgot she was in a tub with only opaque water between them.

  “I did not ask a price, but he offered a treasure he believed I could not refuse.”

  “He offered you treasury, before you named a price?”

  “He offered to convert to Islam and make England a Muslim realm, if I helped him defeat the Gauls.”

  “That is preposterous!” Iseo exclaimed. “England cannot become a Muslim kingdom.”

  “Why should England not desire the enlightenment of Allah?” al-Nassir asked.

  “It is only because the religious tradition is Catholic. I do not believe the people would convert so easily.”

  “As eas
ily as my little dove?” he asked, knowing that she continued to pray to her God, with his agreement to look the other way.

  “I only meant...it just seems...an insincere gesture. A desperate act.”

  “I agree, my Iseo. It is why I sent his envoy away.” The king smiled. “Come here, my Iseo. I have missed you.”

  Iseo waded toward him. He reached for her hand and drew her next to him in the center of the pool. His hands found her belly. Iseo stiffened. The king looked at her in disbelief.

  “Why have you hidden this from me?”

  “I have kept the news from all, Nassir.”

  “Why? Why would you feel compelled to hide the news of our child from me?”

  “I have seen women bleed out the contents of their wombs when their pregnancy is yet new. I wished to wait until I was certain that danger had passed.”

  “I understand your concern, my Iseo. Surely, the time is ready for you to announce an heir. Your belly is well rounded with child.”

  “It is most likely safe enough, now.” Iseo managed a faint smile.

  “There is more here that you have not told.” The king tilted her face to his, forcing them to make eye contact. “I would have the truth. All of it.”

  “I was also afraid you would keep me from my work.”

  “You thought correctly. Do not keep secrets from me, my Iseo. The child you carry is more important to this kingdom than the work you are doing.”

  “I will be careful not to overtax myself,” Iseo protested.

  “No! I will hear no more on the subject.” He softened, when he saw the disappointment on her face. “It is only out of concern for you and the child that I make this command.”

  Al-Nassir pulled his wife into his arms. He kissed her sweetly. “Are you well, my Iseo? You look pale.”

  “I am fine, my Lord.” Iseo suddenly collapsed in his embrace, nearly slipping beneath the water.

  “Iseo!” The king pulled her out of the bath, wrapped her in a warm blanket, and carried her to their bed.

  “Nassir?” Iseo opened her eyes. “What happened?”

  “You fainted in the bath. How do you feel?”

  “Strange. I feel like I am not myself at all.”

  “You are yet pale. I will start a fire to warm the chamber.” He got up to stoke the low burning hearth.

  “I will be fine, Nassir. Come to bed. Come to me.”

  “I will not injure you or the child?”

  “No. Come to me now.”

  It was all the enticement he needed. When their intimacy ended, he shifted his weight to pull her into the nook of his arms. She was already asleep. He kissed her forehead, then her cheek. Iseo was the loveliest creature he had ever laid eyes on. He was glad her father had seen the necessity of keeping her among clerics and scholars. Her mind, spirit, and body were pure. The world before her would be one that he carved out for her and their coming child.

  *

  Iseo walked down a twisted dirt path that wound its way to the edge of a stream, which was little more than a sliver of water cutting through the dry earth. Water gently babbled against moss covered rocks. She realized she held a babe on her hip. It was covered with so many layers of swaddling cloth she could not see the face to discover whether the child was a girl or a boy. Iseo continued along the edge of the water, until she felt the floating sensation take over all movement. Ahead of her three old crones danced around a fire pit blazing from the earth. They circled the flames, laughing and clapping to some music she could not hear. When they caught sight of her, they stood immobile in their poses and stared at her. One of the crones curled her long finger, beckoning Iseo to approach. Instinctively Iseo shook her head no, but she moved forward regardless that her mind had begun screaming for her to stop. It was no use. She noticed items scattered along the skinny shores of the stream. A mortar and pestle that had belonged to her at Compostela. A set of chiseling tools lying partially buried in the sand. These are my things. She saw gold coins glistening here and there, as if someone had scattered them as carelessly as ordinary pebbles.

  Beneath a sickly, over pruned tree, the crones stood waiting for her. The tallest one approached her. She asked, “Why are you here?”

  “Are these my things?” Iseo asked.

  “Answer. Do you belong here?” The crone insisted, growing agitated that Iseo did not understand. The three wrinkled women began to sway like snakes in a charmer’s basket.

  “Sí, I belong here,” Iseo answered, not knowing if she told the truth or not. The child on her hip began convulsing, heaving bile in spasms. Iseo panicked and began to cry. She whispered, “Breathe. Just breathe.”

  “I cannot,” the babe responded through the swaddling cloth. The crones began to dance and sing. The fire burned brighter. Flames reached above their heads to lick the sky. Iseo realized that Evil was present. It was trying to suck the soul of the child she held. She pressed her forehead against the child’s and whispered, “Lord God, in the name of Jesus Christ cast out the Evil from this child!”

  *

  Iseo sat bolt upright. Again the dream haunted her. Al-Nassir startled awake, grabbed her and looked her in the eyes. “What is it, Iseo? What is wrong? Is it the child?”

  “No. I do not know. I had another dream that frightened me.”

  “You look ill my love. Paler still than last night. You must stay in bed.”

  “But I am already with child. There is no need.”

  “You will obey me in this. You do not look well, my Iseo. I will have Amat tend to you.”

  She fell back against her pillows and threw off her coverlet. “Is the fire stoked?”

  “No, but I can make it so.”

  “Por favor do not it is stifling hot in here.” She felt sweat dampen her skin. “Open a window, I beg you.”

  The king clapped his hands. A servant appeared. “Fetch Amat. I would have her attend the queen.” He placed his hand on her forehead. “You are burning with fever.”

  “I cannot hear you for all the noise. Who is talking over you? Do you hear them?”

  “Hear whom, my Iseo?” he asked. He looked around the chamber. “There is no one here except you and I.”

  “Make it stop!” Iseo pleaded. “It is hurting my ears!”

  Nassir took Iseo by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. What he saw terrified him. “Allah, defend her! Amat!”

  “My Lord, I am here.” Amat rushed to the King’s side.

  “Look! Look into her eyes!” he despaired.

  Iseo lay with her eyes wide open, but her body was heavy with sleep. She took rapid breaths as if gasping for air. Amat took the queen’s face between her hands and looked into her eyes. “Allah!” She immediately understood the king’s concern, “Perhaps it is the fever?”

  “There is no fever that can cause this!” he bellowed.

  “My Lord, I do not know what is affecting her eyes, but I do know we must treat her fever. We must cool her body.”

  Nassir clapped his hands twice, and then again. Two men appeared. “Draw the bath with cool water.” He took Iseo in his arms. “Stay with me, my Iseo. My love.” He kissed the top of her head, now drenched with sweat. A desperate thought flashed through his mind. What if she dies, taking my son with her? She must survive. “Amat, help me get her to the bath.”

  The king pulled the covers back completely, so they could lift Iseo safely. Amat gasped when she saw the nude body of the queen with her protruding belly. She had no idea the queen was so pregnant. Iseo’s body weighed heavy in their arms. The king took hold of her torso, while Amat made sure the queen’s legs did not drag across the marble floor. Tears sprang to Amat’s eyes when the king got into the pool fully clothed, holding his beloved in his arms. Iseo stirred.

  “Nassir?”

  “I am here, my Iseo.”

  “I am cold,” she said weakly.

  “It is the fever.”

  “There is something wrong. Inside me.”

  “You are with
child, my love.”

  “It is not the child. There is someone else…,” Iseo’s voice trailed off with exhaustion.

  “Amat!” al-Nassir roared.

  “My Lord,” she said, as she rushed to the edge of the pool.

  “Help me get her to the bed and covered properly. Then fetch my personal physicians.”

  “Majesty.” The bath was deep enough it required her to step into the water to assist the king in carrying Iseo out. As she lifted Iseo’s shoulders, the queen opened her eyes.

  “Do you see him?” Iseo asked.

  “See who?” Amat looked over her shoulder in the direction of the queen’s gaze, but saw nothing.

  Iseo lifted her arm to point at a pillar beyond the marble pool. “There.”

  Both Amat and the king looked as she began pointing frantically. “Him! I cannot see his face! The hood is covering it. Who is it Nassir?!”

  “I see no one my dove,” he whispered in despair.

  *

  Iseo walked to a hammock draped between two barren trees. A babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lay snuggled in the folds of swaying fabric. She picked it up to kiss its tender cheek, but maggots wiggled and writhed between the swaddling and fell like rice on the dirt. Horrified, she tried to pick the maggots off the child, but it was no use. It was as if the child produced the maggots. She pulled the swaddling covering tighter to keep the worms from escaping. A crone approached her. She smiled serenely, but her eyes were black as pitch, their gaze heavy. Iseo could not look away, even though her mind shouted for her to run.

  “It is ugly, but you can love it. Do not look down my dear.”

  “But the maggots,” she protested.

  “Evil can be beautiful,” the crone replied to Iseo’s weak protestation.

  Iseo tucked another cloth around the child. “Do you mean the child is Evil?” she asked the old woman.