The Bond of Blood

by Kody Boye

  “Hey,” Joseph smiled, allowing his arms to fall slack at his side. “I brought you a cradle.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “What? Have you been sleeping with the baby?”

  “Yes.”

  Joseph shrugged, heaved the cradle into his arms, then brought it into the house, taking care to set it on the middle of the floor before turning his head up and examining him. “I hope you’ve been careful,” he said.

  “I have. I made a bed for him out of my spare blankets and pillows.”

  “He hasn’t complained?”

  “No. He’s hardly cried at all.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “In the bedroom, still sleeping.”

  The young farmer stepped into the kitchen and settled into a chair. When he realized what he had done, he made way to stand, but Ectris shook his head and gestured him back down.

  “Sit,” Ectris smiled, taking his place across from his friend. “I appreciate you bringing the cradle out here, but you didn’t have to do that.”

  “It’s all right. I spent all night making it for a reason.”

  What?

  The lapse of silence that followed raised the hairs on both of his arms.

  Of all the things people had done for him throughout his life, no one had shown him so much kindness.

  “Thank you,” he said, bowing his head to look at his hands.

  “Don’t thank me. Everyone needs a little help every once in a while.” Joseph slid his hand across the table and gripped Ectris’ wrist. “You’ve helped me before. I just wanted to return the favor.”

  “What I did when your wife left is nothing compared to this.”

  “Are you serious, Ectris? You’re the main reason I stayed sane after Julia ran off.”

  “I—”

  Ectris paused before he could finish, then listened for a brief moment.

  Is that—

  “The baby’s crying,” he said, standing. “Let me go tend to him.”

  “I’ll be here when you get back,” Joseph said. “Or I can leave you alone. Whichever you’d prefer.”

  “No, stay. I bought a thing of alcohol from the last caravan that came through. We can drink some of it.”

  Ectris turned and made his way for the bedroom.

  “Hey there,” he said, reaching into the pile of blankets to take the child into his arms. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.”

  Almost immediately after being brought to his chest, the child calmed down, as if Ectris had completely extinguished the fear within his heart.

  He’s okay now, he thought, closing his eyes.

  After patting the baby’s diaper to make sure nothing was inside, he grabbed the little boy’s blanket, wrapped him up, then carried him out of the room and into the kitchen, where he looked over at Joseph as he lifted his eyes to look at him.

  “Would you hold him for me?” Ectris asked. “I need to make the bottle.”

  “If you trust me with him.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Joseph offered no response. He took the baby into his arms when Ectris offered him, then trained his eyes on the child, careful to keep him close to his chest.

  After pursuing the kitchen for both the pail, the bottle, and the nipple, Ectris crossed the distance between him and the oven, grabbed a few pieces of kindling, then stoked the fire, careful not to burn himself as he struck stone to flint before setting the pail above the brimming flames.

  Good, he thought, nodding as he made sure the pail was secure on the hook.

  He’d expected the embers not to burn—or, at the very least, not spark to life.

  “Do you need help?” Joseph asked, walking into the room with the baby in his arms.

  “I’m fine,” Ectris said, watching the fire glow as he fed it more kindling.

  For several long breaths, he waited, letting the milk warm and trying to decide whether or not it would be worth it to have Joseph continue this daily ritual. Though he knew the young farmer did not mind, it would, eventually, become an inconvenience, and for that Ectris tested the warmth of the milk carefully with a single index finger. It took far less time for it to begin to heat than he’d expected, and when his finger began to tingle within the liquid, he pulled it from the fireplace, then set it up and onto the counter.

  “Is it ready?” Joseph asked.

  “Yeah,” Ectris said. “Come on. Let’s feed him.”

  The personal responsibility of having to take care of a child changed him within only a few short days. Before the cloaked figure had come—bearing, within his bloodied hands, a baby whom he could not care for—Ectris seemed to have little purpose in life, save for cutting wood when the weather was decent and distributing it to the families. That alone had counted his life as something less than important—as something that, without any regard, could have made him seem plain and boring. Now, with this baby, his focus had changed, and as a result, had begun to mold him into a much different and stronger person.

  The baby sleeping at his side, his breaths coming in and out in short bursts, Ectris stared at the ceiling and smiled at the fact that, when the boy snored, he sounded much like a freshly-born kitten meowing to its mother.

  I’m going to have to find someone to sit for me if I want to continue working, he thought, sighing.

  Whomever he found would have to be a trusted source. That in itself would be a problem, given his child’s eyes and the fact that many considered abnormal. His red eyes would scare off most any sitter he managed to find—if not because of the old legends, then the superstitions that surrounded such children—and while he knew that his son would not harm anyone at this current stage in his life, he knew stupidity ran in many a person, especially those who maintained their lives as farmers, woodcutters or even as common folk.

  But what about the person who came with Odin? How could he just leave his baby in the hands of a complete stranger?

  While pondering over this question, almost to the point where he fell into a haze of sleep, he listened to the baby’s soft breaths and smiled whenever the boy offered a snort or even a slight giggle in his sleep. What Odin could be dreaming he couldn’t be sure, but he hoped, at the very least, it was of good, normal things, not of something that could have harmed him from past experience.

  Then again, just what was he thinking? This baby had come to him but a short two days ago, freshly-born and immune to the world. What possible thoughts could he have of anything other than his stay here, in Felnon, within this house?

  Whatever it is, Ectris thought, closing his eyes, he left me with his son. I won’t just abandon him.

  With that thought in mind, his thoughts consumed him.

  He drowned in darkness.

  The following morning, he woke to the baby crying and immediately took him into his arms.

  “It’s okay,” Ectris whispered, grimacing at the raging storm outside, which lit up the sky and even the distant houses beyond the street. “It’s just thunder, Odin.”

  The baby threw his head back and let out a squeal. In response, Ectris brought the child to his chest and rubbed his tiny back. “Don’t cry, Odin. It’s okay, son.”

  A short moment later, he closed his eyes.

  Thunder rumbled overhead.

  He’d just called the child his son.

  The man left him to me, he thought, a few tears escaping his eyes when the baby stilled within his grasp and stopped crying. He wanted me to take care of him. He’s mine now.

  Sooner or later, he would have to face the fact that the baby in his arms would eventually come to call him father. Along with that, he would have to train his mind to realize that when the boy addressed him as such, Odin would be speaking to him, not some strange man or creature that would have become a distant part of the past.

  “Come on,” Ectris said, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and beginning his trek across the house. “Let’s get you some milk.”

  And a change.<
br />
  Stepping into the kitchen, he set the baby on the table, cleaned his mess up, then opened the door to be buffeted by rain before throwing the dirtied diaper out to the clothesline.

  “There,” he said, dipping a rag in water to clean the baby before sliding a new diaper up his legs. “Better, right?”

  The baby didn’t do anything, much to Ectris’ relief and disappointment. In response, he washed his hands, stoked the fire burning in the oven, then set the pail of milk over its surface, nodding as he took the child into his arms and held him close to his chest.

  “It’s scary out there, huh?” he asked, smiling at the baby as he turned his attention outside, at the world that lay shrouded in darkness. “It’s okay though. We’re inside. You’re not going to get wet.”

  The child watched him with an unrelenting stare. His eyes widened at Ectris’ words.

  “I’m going to feed you,” he said. “Then we’ll go back to sleep.”

  A short moment after checking to make sure the milk was a safe temperature, he dipped the bottle into the pail, filled it to the brim, then capped the nipple on top before offering it to the baby, who grasped it almost immediately.

  This is what he wanted.

  Although having been thrust into the role of a parent with little choice in the matter, Ectris thought he did a fair-enough job, all things considering. It felt good, even remarkably-peaceful to know that he was caring for something that would otherwise die without his help.

  Odin stopped sucking.

  “Full?” Ectris asked.

  The baby burped in response.

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s go back to bed.”

  Over the course of the next month, Odin grew to the size of a normal baby, and while the increase in weight pleased Ectris to no end, it still puzzled him, given the fact that it had taken the boy so long to grow to what he considered to be a regular size. He knew based on that alone that the boy would be much smaller when he grew up, but how much he didn’t know. In the end, he had a happy, healthy baby. That’s all that mattered to him.

  “There you go,” he said, setting Odin into a pail of warm water. “You like that?”

  The baby looked at the water, likely puzzled by the warmth and feel of liquid sliding over his skin. It was the first bath Ectris had given him for fear that he would drown due to his size, and while the sponge baths had done enough to keep the baby clean, he knew that a full-body soak would do him more good than harm.

  A smile crossing his face, Ectris reached forward, slid a finger into the water, then splashed as gently as he could. “Like this,” he said.

  He continued to do this for the next several moments, watching the baby out of the corner of his eye, until slowly the child tried for himself, lightly slapping the water with his tiny fists. While the effect itself wasn’t as grand as his father’s, the little boy laughed nonetheless.

  “There!” Ectris grinned, unable to resist laughing with his son.

  The few times Odin had laughed thrilled him to no end. While he’d eventually come to know that the child preferred silence, it didn’t help to know that his baby was unlike the other children whom the other fathers had raised. Some called this a godsend, given that most children were unbearably loud. They called his child ‘lucky’ and said that he was ‘blessed’ to have such a quiet baby, when in reality Ectris felt nothing but the opposite. He’d much prefer being woken in the middle of the night than rising in the morning to know that he had not woken once to check on his son.

  “That’s okay,” he finally said, setting his hand on the baby’s warm back when he felt his thoughts had gone on far too long. “You may not be different, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a good baby.”

  Odin’s red eyes lit up at the words.

  “Good boy,” he said.

  The baby continued to splash.

  “How has the baby been?” Joseph asked, lifting his head from his work at milking one of his cows.

  “He’s been fine,” Ectris replied. “Quiet, but fine.”

  “He’s taken to the milk, I assume?”

  “Yes. Why wouldn’t he?”

  “He doesn’t have a mother,” the farmer said, squirting the last of the milk the cow offered into the pail before lifting it at his side.

  “He’s been feeding off the bottle just fine.”

  “Have you considered a midwife?”

  A midwife? Ectris thought, frowning. “Why would I need one?” he asked. “The baby’s fine. Nothing’s wrong with him.”

  “So far as you know.” Joseph paused. He peered into the pail before turning his head up. “Look,” he said. “I know you’re of the opinion that you can take care of your son just fine, but think about this: the baby isn’t getting the nutrients he needs from his mother. At the very least, you should look into finding a midwife, if not a wet nurse.”

  “I have no idea where I’d start.”

  “Have you spoken with Mother Karma?”

  Mother Karma?

  The frown that crossed Ectris’ face elicited an almost-immediately response from Joseph, who gestured him away from the cows and toward his home. “I’m guessing by your response that you’ve never heard of her.”

  “That name sounds familiar, but…”

  “What?” Joseph asked, frowning when Ectris trailed off.

  “I’ve never met her, Joseph.”

  “I’m surprised. She lives right up the road from you.”

  “Around the hill?”

  “Well, yes. She’s lived there for the past twenty years now.”

  “How old is she?”

  “I’m guessing around your age, if not a bit younger.”

  “That would put her in her thirties.”

  “Which means she’s perfectly capable of helping you raise your child.” Joseph paused at the door. Fingers spread, palm against the doorknob, he appeared as though he would step through the threshold and leave him out in the fine rain, but when the farmer didn’t, Ectris offered a sigh. “She’s been helping the women here raise their babies her entire life, Ectris. The least you could do is talk to her.”

  “You’re right,” Ectris said, straightening his posture and turning to walk up the road. “I’ll go speak to her now.”

  “Just as a forewarning, though… she is a bit… well, odd, I guess you could say. She’s been that way since Bartholomus died.”

  “You mean—”

  “The woodcutter? Yeah. I mean him.”

  Bartholomus, Ectris thought, sighing.

  Though he had not the slightest idea how to deal with a woman like Karma, much less a widow whom had lost her husband when a branch had fallen atop him, Ectris had an infant child at home to consider, one who needed an experienced woman to help him grow.

  With one last nod, Ectris turned and began to make his way up the road.

  At Mother Karma’s front door, Ectris slid his hands into his pockets and tried his hardest to maintain an even control of his breathing. Thoughts racing through his mind, his heartbeat uneven within his ribcage, he turned his head to survey the world around him before reaching forward to knock.

  Halfway there, a thought occurred to him.

  Would she really help him?

  Though he knew from testimony that Mother Karma was kind beyond compare, he knew nothing of her opinion on children that could possibly be something more than human. He knew nothing of the baby’s lineage, of its mother or even the father-like figure that had brought him to his doorstep. In that regard, he considered himself more than generous, but to think that the one woman that could help him might consider the infant nothing more than a monster chilled him to no end.

  “If she doesn’t help,” he whispered, “then there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  With or without the midwife, he would raise the baby on his own, even if that meant hand-feeding him for the next year-and-a-half.

  Reaching forward, Ectris curled his fingers into a fist, took one last deep breath, then knocked on t
he door.

  “Karma?” he asked.

  At the corner of his vision, he caught the slightest movement near the window. It took but a moment for him to realize that the curtains had shifted and a figure had just peered out.

  Here goes nothing.

  Behind the door, the sound of several locks, bolts and chains clicking and scraping across wood resounded from within the house and entered his ears. A short moment later, the door opened to reveal a woman in her mid-thirties—tall, wispy, and bearing a frost of white in her hair despite her youthful appearance. “Hello?” she asked, her voice so clear it sounded much like a bird’s song.

  “Hello ma’am,” Ectris said, steadying his hands at his side. “A friend of mine said that I should come and ask for your help.”

  “What might you need?”

  “A child… he’s without his mother and I have no idea how to care for him.”

  “You’re calling on me as a midwife then,” Karma said, stating her words rather than asking them. She pushed her hand aside to hold the door open and examined him with a pair of eyes Ectris compared to something like a predatory bird’s before a smile graced her face and revealed fine, if somewhat-aged dimples. “Give me a moment to gather my things. I’ll see to the child this instant.”

  When the door closed, Ectris took a deep breath.

  The hardest part was out of the way.

  “You say this child was delivered to you?” Karma asked, securing the pack of supplies at her side before turning her attention to Ectris.

  “I did.”

  “By what?”

  “I… don’t know,” Ectris said. “That’s the thing that bothers me.”

  “You think this child may be something other than human?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “No matter,” the midwife said, straightening her posture and turning her head to the sky as a few drops of rain began to fall. “How ironic.”

  It seemed a perfect time for it to rain when Ectris was delivering to his child the service of a caretaker.

  Don’t think about it, he thought. It doesn’t matter right now.