Fraul, 5

Sandrine snarled at him with sweat dripping from her face, asking for water. He strode back and forth, finding the things she needed–she who was, for herself, both mother and birth coach. Finally he had to leave her, and his knees hurt as he lengthened his stride for her mother’s house.

“The midwife, Luce,” he panted at the door. “Get her.”

When they both arrived back at the house, Sandrine had positioned herself on hands and knees and had one hand waiting between her legs, her face screwed up and her shoulders at her ears. Luce grabbed the water and rag and placed it over the back of Sandrine’s neck, but neither of them could help further.

Fraul, not knowing what to do, passed them the willow bark he had received from Heath. It was some of his last.

“What’s this?” Luce asked, and her son-in-law shoved it at Sandrine.

“Chew it,” he said. “For pain.”

She grabbed it from him and stuck it in her molars, and then Fraul left her with Luce and walked out of the house. He felt awful for it, but his body hurt and he didn’t think he would be much use to them. So he sat on a crate outside.

Sandrine would be all right. He listened to her screaming and wondered if that was what his pain had sounded like so long ago. He concluded that this was different. She was releasing energy; he, then, had not.

He remembered that, at the end of it all, there would be a baby. He rose to his feet and darkened the doorway, hearing the sudden silence.

“What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s fine,” said Luce, stroking Sandrine’s hand, but the young woman was unconscious. The midwife reached for the placenta, and Sandrine’s body registered the movement but her face remained still.

“What’s wrong?” Fraul demanded, pressing forward. “What do I do?”

“Get a wagon,” Luce sighed. “We’re taking her to Nathalia.”

When he finally got to the stables at the edge of town, he pulled himself with his arms into the driver’s seat and threw coins toward the stablehand as he wheeled the horse. The coins clattered onto the ground. When he reached their house with the wagon, he climbed down with his arms alone, to keep from putting any more weight on his feet. He heard a baby wailing.

Fraul watched the midwife’s face as she and Luce loaded Sandrine into the wagon. They exchanged glances, and Luce nodded; the midwife, undoing her robes, went back inside where the baby was crying. Presently the wailing stopped. Fraul stood out in the street like a ghost.

He hated this walk. He hated his body for not healing. He wanted to be mentally present with the baby in his arms but all he could think about was Sandrine, in the back hallways of the church which served as a healing ward.

He, as always, gravitated toward the army. He knew they were camped three miles outside town, and he walked with his unnamed daughter in his arms and tried to stand up straight, to remind himself that he still belonged here.

Raru saw him first, but Raru was engaged in speaking with General Crowe and could do no more than look at him. Fraul did not hold his gaze, but he saw as he swept his eyes elsewhere that both Raru and Crowe stood straight and unyielding, hands behind their backs. Fraul did not seek Crowe’s gaze and instead walked to the big healing tent, where cases of heatstroke lay on the cots in varying levels of consciousness.

Heath was bent over his work in the back, crafting tinctures. He heard the rustle of canvas and glanced up, saw Fraul, grunted, and went back to his work. Fraul smiled, and felt himself relax. He didn’t realize that he’d been tense.

He eased himself onto a stool and bounced his baby in his arms, his eyes traveling over the heatstroke cases.

“You know,” he said lightly, “hibiscus tea helps. With the heat, I mean.”

Heath lifted his eyes and scowled. “I know that,” he said acridly, but Fraul knew from his tone that he did not. Fraul smiled tightly at his friend. Heath capped the tincture and silence drifted over them as the healer took his time in cleaning the table.

Then Heath wandered to him, hands behind his back, and bent to examine the baby. She had awoken and looked at him with big tawny eyes, a bit of green in them like her mother.

“What do you need?” Heath asked, raising an eyebrow as he straightened. “She looks healthy to me. Pink as hell.”

“I’m sure she’ll tan up,” said Fraul dryly.

Heath jerked his head and Fraul set her on the cot. The healer man undid her swaddling, grabbed a strip of gauze, and wound it around her little waist like a measuring tape. Then he crafted a diaper with woven strips of linen, a square of cloth which he folded into a triangle and bound around her. Fraul beamed and clapped his hands together.

“Beautiful, Heath!” he said. “I knew you would come in handy.”

“Oh, fuck off. Shown her to Raru yet?”

“No, not yet.” Fraul sighed as Heath trimmed gauze and made a neat pile, then bound this up and handed it to the other man. They both sat in silence after Fraul had swaddled the baby again, and he rocked her idly until Raru darted into the tent. His wolfish eyes roved over Fraul like someone three days without water, and Fraul smiled at him before glancing away. Heath did not notice, although Fraul himself was convinced that the whole camp did.

Raru plopped himself down beside them and said, “Whiskey, Heath?”

“You know I don’t furnish your addictions anymore, Captain.”

Raru rolled his eyes, taking his empty flask out of his boot as Heath tossed him his own, evidently lying. Raru filled his flask halfway and then made a show of taking an extra drink from Heath’s, and the healer captain snatched the flask back from him and huffed.

“Tell y’all what,” said Raru as he leaned back and tossed an ankle over his knee. “The beer here is good. But not as good as the whiskey.”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Fraul primly, his palm under the velvety head of his baby. Raru noticed her now, and he beamed and held out his hands. Fraul passed him the baby in the safety of the healing tent, no other eyes to see them but the few cases of heatstroke on the cots. Raru held her awkwardly, as if she were exceedingly fragile and he didn’t know how not to break her. Heath folded his arms and sat back.

“So,” he said to Fraul, “you have everything you need?”

“Almost,” sighed Fraul, as Raru handed her back. “Sandrine is still unconscious.” Now both pairs of eyes went to him in concern. He shrugged. “It does not look like death, Heath. I think she’ll be all right. But it made me realize that I am in pain. I can’t raise a child like this. Not alone.”

Heath frowned. “I don’t have medicine for that,” he said.

“I know. I know. I just…” Fraul glanced at Raru for strength and found only concern. “What else can I do, to make things easier?”

Heath sighed long. “I’ve told you and told you,” he growled. “And do you listen? No.”

“I can’t rest. There is so much to be done.”

“I’ve been thinking about it, actually, since we’ve been here.” Heath glanced at Raru and some unspoken thing passed between them. Heath, arms folded, looked sternly at Fraul. “I think you need a wheelchair.”

Fraul shook his head.

“It’s not that bad,” he said. “I can take the pain. It’s just that the knees give out. How do I stop the knees from giving out?”

“This is the best advice I have for you, Fraul,” said Heath. “Unless you can find someone to make you a brace. And I don’t know how to do that, and I don’t have time. I still have a company to captain, you know.”

“Yes, I know.” Fraul’s face closed and became hard, and Heath frowned.

“You have a family now,” he said, and Raru took a drink. “I really think that the chair is the simplest solution.”

Fraul shook his head. “What will happen if I stop walking?” he asked.

“You might heal, actually.”

Fraul glanced down at his daughter. She had gone back to sleep. The diaper seemed to be comfortable enough, and he reminded himself that he wasn’t in the army anymore. The companies would leave, and he would not be with them. He had other things to take care of, like it or not.

“Where would I find a chair, anyway?” he asked Heath, and Raru’s heart hurt for him. It seemed like a surrender, a bitter white flag. Part of Raru wanted to say no, keep pushing, keep walking, but he knew that Fraul had pushed and pushed already and was nearing hopelessness.

Raru got up, muttering something about his company, and with a backward glance at Fraul he left the tent. The whole thing made his stomach hurt and brought up the old memories, all the other things he preferred to drink about, all the things he wished were different.