The Innkeeper's Wife

  The Innkeeper’s Wife

  Michèle McGrath

  The Innkeeper’s Wife

  “Rivka! Rivka! Where are you?”

  “I’m here. Where did you think I would be?” Rivka came out of the back room wiping her hands on a cloth. “What’s so important you have to call me away from my baking?”

  “There’re some more of them at the door.”

  “So? What do you want me to do about it? Didn’t you tell them we’re full?”

  “Of course I did, but they say there’s nowhere else. Not a bed to be had anywhere in the town; they’ve tried. The whole town is packed with these travellers.”

  “If we take in any more the walls will burst apart and I’m run off my feet as it is. It’s their own fault for coming so late. They were told that they had to be here days ago, instead of arriving at the last minute. They’ll have to camp out, that’s all.”

  “They can’t. The woman’s about to give birth. That’s what’s made them so slow in getting here.”

  The innkeeper’s wife looked at her husband open mouthed. “Are you completely mad? Here am I with all these people in the house and you want me to run around after a pregnant woman. Where are her mother and all the rest of her people?”

  “She’s alone with her husband. She’s little more than a slip of a girl and she’s in pain. How can I send her back out into the cold with no hope? There’s a storm coming. They need shelter, for the birth at least or she’ll die. They can pay, Rivka. Think of the money.”

  “I am and the extra work I’ll have to do to earn it. Anyway, that’s beside the point. We’ve nowhere to put them. I won’t turn anyone out of the house that is already here. There isn’t enough space for everyone already. They’re jammed in like fleas, hardly room to move. They’ll be sleeping standing up next. Can’t Martha take them?”

  “They’ve been there and everywhere else. They’re exhausted and she’s drooping. Rivka, you’ve got to come out and see them, I tell you, or the baby will be born on our doorstep. For the love of God!”

  Rivka looked at her husband in amazement. He rarely used that tone of voice with her, but, when he did, she always obeyed. It reminded her of the days when he was courting her, when he had been so insistent that they marry. That was long before they had both been swept into this life of too much work and too little money. So she let Ezra hustled her out of the door and around the side of the building, where there was some shelter. Rivka shivered as she felt the icy wind tear through her woollen tunic as her cloak parted. Goose-bumps rose on her skin.

  “It’s freezing.”

  “That’s what I’ve been telling you. It’ll snow before morning.”

  By the light of the lantern that hung outside the inn, Rivka could see the group huddling together, trying to keep warm, a man, a girl and a small donkey, heads down against the blast. Rivka hurried forward, determined to get this over as quickly as possible, so she could go back inside.

  “What?” she started to say, when the woman lifted her head and looked at her. The words died on her lips as she looked into those eyes, dark now with pain and fear. The woman’s face, a perfect oval, looked pinched and white. Rivka’s heart almost stopped. She put out her hand and clutched at the wall for support.

  “Ezra, why didn’t you tell me?” she breathed.

  “Because you would not have believed me. You had to see her for yourself.”

  “Dalia,” Rivka whispered, “so like my Dalia.” She took the young woman into her work reddened arms, as she had once taken her daughter.

  “Where can we put them, husband? There is no room inside and no one will be leaving for several days.”

  At that moment the woman gave a convulsive shudder. Rivka dropped her large hand onto the woman’s belly and felt the ripple of the contraction, even through the thickness of her clothing.

  “This baby’s coming right now! Think of something – quick!”

  “Please,” the man said, speaking for the first time, “can you help us?” Weariness was in his voice but there was also hope and joy.

  “We could put them in our room.”

  “I’ve already put the family from Caesarea in there. There’re seven of them.”

  “Then there’s only the stable. If I move the ox, we can squeeze the donkey in and use the other stall for these people. It’s not really fitting for humans and especially not for a newborn baby, but...”

  “We’ve nowhere else. It’ll have to do. You don’t object, do you?” Rivka shot her question at the stranger, who shivered and said,

  “No. Anywhere will do.”

  “The stable’s dry and the walls will keep out the cold. Ezra, run and get Meira, the birthing woman. Tell her it’s an emergency. What are you waiting for? Hurry or it’ll be too late. When you come back, get Noa to heat up some water and find me clean cloths. Some wrappings too. Then she must manage on her own until I’m finished here.”

  Rivka gripped the donkey’s halter and started to pull it down the twisting path.

  “Hold onto your wife,” she ordered, “or she’ll fall. It gets steeper lower down.”

  The stranger did not argue, but wrapped his arms around the gasping figure as they edged down the hill. It wasn’t far, but the wind blew straight into their faces, making the donkey toss its head and close its eyes. It would have stopped or turned around, but Rivka forced it onwards, thanking God she knew every stone in this path, she had walked it so often. She pushed at the old wooden door with all her strength, holding it open with her back, while the stranger led the donkey inside.

  When the door slammed shut, the wind died and they were surrounded by the warm stuffy smell of animals. Rustling in the straw alerted them to movement close by.

  “Wait,” Rivka said. “I will get a light.” She fumbled on a shelf until she found the tinderbox and lantern. A spark, like a little star, fell on the shavings and Rivka blew it into life. She thrust a straw into the small flame and lit the lamp.

  In the glow, the strangers saw wooden walls and stalls of animals, including a curious cow that looked at them with glittering eyes. The stranger reached up and swung his wife to the ground. As her feet touched the floor, her knees buckled and she would have fallen, except he held her tight. Rivka caught up a broom and swept an area clean, then she pried open a sheaf of straw and heaped it in the corner.

  “Lie her down here.” Rivka twitched off her own cloak and laid it on top of the straw.

  The girl gasped as the stranger helped her carefully to the ground.

  “Take her in your arms, let her rest against you. I’ll soon have you comfortable,” she promised the girl.

  Noa arrived with a steaming pail, rough blankets and cloths.

  “Rub down the donkey and get it out of my way,” Rivka ordered her. The animal was led off and shut in the stall with the family cow. Rivka piled wraps on top of the woman, but she was still wracked with shivers. Pain was etched on her face as her belly contracted.

  “I’m going to see what’s happening.”

  Rivka thrust back some of the bedding and lifted the girl’s skirts. She held the lantern close.

  “My God, the head is already here! Help me to get her up!”

  Between them, the stranger and Rivka got the girl to her feet. Rivka pulled the covers away, all but one.

  “Squat and open your legs, lass. Your baby wants to be born.” The girl squatted. Rivka and the stranger held her tightly.

  Thank goodness she is so slight, Rivka thought. She turned and looked at Noa who was watching on nervously.

  “Run and tell Meira that, if she doesn’t hurry, she’ll be too late.”

  Noa hurried away, looking thankful.

  “Come on now, dear. We’ll have to do
this ourselves. Hold her tight, Mister, so she doesn’t slip down and crush the baby’s head.”

  “Yossef.”

  “What?”

  “My name is Yossef. This is Miryam, my wife.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Rivka giggled as she said the conventional formula. “I am Rivka the wife of Ezra, whom you have already met.”

  The girl, Miryam, gave a small shriek, quickly muffled. There was blood on her lips where she had bitten them.

  “Push now.” Rivka reached out and ran her fingertips around the tiny skull, easing its passage into the world.

  How many times have I done this? She thought. Or had it done to me? Too many. Six children and all gone now, one way or the other. Let us hope this baby lives.

  An icy blast blew through the stable as the door flew open and Ezra pushed through, carrying another bucket and some more rags.

  “Shut the door!” Rivka snarled. “Do you want to turn us into icicles? Where’s Meira?”

  “At a birth in another part of the town. She says you’ll have to manage for yourself.” He dumped the water and cloths beside her. “Noa said you’d need more than one bucket.”

  Rivka shrugged. It was too late anyway. At least this baby was coming out the right way. Rivka knew she lacked the skill to turn it round. Meira was better at such things, which was why many people sent for her. The child might survive, in spite of its mother’s journey. Its skin felt warm under her fingers.

  “Keep pushing, love. We’re almost there.”

  “Don’t worry,” Yossef said, unexpectedly. “Do what you must. It has been foretold that this child will live.”

  “How did you know what I was thinking? Can you read my thoughts? Who foretold it?” Rivka demanded; her hands busy. She snatched a second to look into his face, but her only answer was a smile.

  Then the girl screamed and the baby shot stickily into Rivka’s waiting hand.

  “A boy. You have a son,” she cried as she tied the cord and cut it. She rubbed the browny-red infant hard with a cloth until he drew air into his lungs and howled. She wrapped him in more cloth and handed him to Ezra.

  “Hold him while I make her comfortable.” She washed the young woman and put aside the bloodstained wrappings. She had a pang for her own cloak, which was covered in blood and wondered if the stain would come out. Perhaps if it didn’t she could persuade Ezra to buy her another. Rivka brought straw and piled it behind the new mother, helping Yossef to ease her back onto it. Yossef stretched and climbed slowly to his feet. He took the baby from Ezra’s arms and gave him to his mother.

  Rivka smiled as she looked down at the happy, weary girl. As she did so, a sudden thought came to her.

  “Ezra,” she said. “This baby is special. We must celebrate his birth. Fetch a skin of our best wine, so we can drink to him and his parents.”

  Ezra was about to protest. They had very little of the good wine left and this did not seem the right occasion to use it. These people were strangers, after all. The he looked at his wife and the words died on his lips. He knew she was remembering Dalia, their only daughter, who had not lived to see her dead child born.

  He turned to go, but Yossef put out a hand to stop him.

  “We cannot pay for wine, but I thank you for the thought.”

  “No need,” Ezra muttered. “Once we had a girl, very like your wife. She, too, had a son, but neither of them survived the night. Your wife and son will live. Dalia would want us to care for you. She was a very kind woman.” He choked and hurried away.

  “A beautiful child.” Rivka sat back on her heels, looking into the tiny face, so like his mother’s. “What will you call him? Another Yossef?”

  “His name is to be Yeshua,” his mother said slowly, speaking for the first time. Rivka look startled.

  “Yeshua? Meaning ‘salvation’?”

  Miryam nodded and Yossef confirmed the name with a smile.

  Copyright © 2014 by Michèle McGrath

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the author.

  Most characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Some are historical characters.

  My books are fiction set in history.

  Written in English (UK)

  Published by Riverscourt Publishing

  Thank you for reading my book. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please consider leaving a review on Amazon or the site where you bought it from.

  I send out new and exclusive stories to my email list. If you wish to join, please sign up on my website http://www.michelemcgrath.co.uk

  About Michèle McGrath

  Award winning author, Michele McGrath, was born on the beautiful Isle of Man in the middle of the Irish Sea. She has lived in California, Liverpool, France and Lancashire before returning home. Living in Paris and Grenoble taught her to make a mean ratatouille and she learned the hula in Hawaii.

  Michele is a qualified swimming teacher and manager, writing self help books on these subjects. Although she writes in many genres, her real loves are historical romance and fantasy. She has won numerous writing competitions, had second places and been short-listed many times. She has had tens of thousands of sales and downloads.

  **Visit her blog at http://www.michelemcgrath.co.uk/blog

  **Follow Michele on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/michele.mcgrath.books. She loves to chat with readers.

  **Follow her on Twitter at www.twitter.com/benvoirrey

  What others are saying about Michele's books:

  "From the very first and magical sentence, I was hooked on this novel."

  Eddie on Kindle, reviewing Manannan's Magic.

  “Set in post-revolutionary France, Duval and the Infernal Machine captures the atmosphere of suspicion and intrigue that reigned in Paris at the time. The author does a splendid job of immersing the reader into the darker corners of the city." Simon on Kindle reviewing Duval and the Infernal Machine.

  “I have been terrified of the water ever since nearly drowning in Lake Michigan. My wife has tried to teach me to float - with no success - for 40 years. The techniques outlined in this book are easy to follow. Maybe finally, after all these years, I'll be able to swim and NOT be afraid of the water. Thanks Michele, wish you lived in the States so I could get private lessons." Steven on Kindle reviewing Learn to Swim, even if you are terrified."

  “An intriguing and haunting short story, which the author says is based upon a real wartime experience. The fitting and satisfying ending will stay with me for a long time. An excellent story."

  Gunnar on Kindle reviewing Five Lamps.

  “Beautiful! Just 12 short pages, but it left me in tears. The author has such a delicate, lovely way with words that the sentences and sentiments were whispered over the pages. I will save this on my kindle to read again."

  Tina on Kindle reviewing The Carpenter's Bench.

  Books by Michèle McGrath

  Easy Business Skills:

  Easy Business Skills Box set

  Easy Self Confidence

  Easy Time Management

  Easy Assertiveness

  Easy Communication Skills

  Easy Presentation Skills

  Swimming:

  Learn to Swim even if you are Terrified

  Teach your Child to Swim: The Easy Way.

  Novels:

  The Manannan Series (Historical Fantasy)

  Manannan’s Magic: Manannan McLir flees from a blood feud in Ireland and finds a tragic love with a young Celtic girl, Renny. Betrayal, a Viking invasion and a narrow escape all feature in this novel.

  Niamh of the Golden Hair: Niamh is captured by Viking raiders and unexpectedly falls in love with her captor. When he is badly injured, she must find her father, Manannan, who may be able to cure his wound.

  Emer’s Quest: Emer, Manannan’s granddaughter
, dreams that her father will be shipwrecked. She rides after him to prevent him leaving but she is too late. She persuades friends to follow him. On her journey she meets Atli, a trader who offers to rescue her father if she will marry one of his sons. Unfortunately his son Hari does not want her.

  Manannan Trilogy:Box Set

  Ghost Diaries Series (Paranormal Romance)

  Gigi’s Guardian: A romp through an unusual sort of Heaven and Swinging Sixties London. Ariane helps Gigi choose the right man to marry, after many trials and tribulations. A comedy romance with serious overtones.

  Duval Series (Napoleon’s Police)

  Duval and the Infernal Machine 1800: Rookie police agent, Alain Duval investigates the attempted assassination on Napoleon Bonaparte. The book features romance, terror and an unexpected ending.

  Duval and the Empress’s Crown 1804: Police Agent Alain Duval is tasked with finding the crown but time is very short and his suspects many. Present when the crown disappeared are Napoleon's sisters, Princess Elisa, Princess Pauline and Princess Caroline. Are they involved or merely witnesses? Aided by his wife Eugenie and his friends Lefebvre and Fournier, Duval sets out to unravel the mystery.

  Duval and the Italian Opera Singer 1805: Carla Cortini arrives in Paris claiming that her son is Napoleon’s child. She relates the story to Duval and enquiries seem to confirm that it is true. When Duval goes to tell her and take her to the Emperor, he discovers that the mother and son have been kidnapped.

  Duval at Waterloo 1815: The last Duval book. Duval travels to Paris and gets caught up in the preparations for Napoleon’s last battle.