A Life of Shanestra

In the pre-dawn silence of this early day in the month of Midwinter (the fourth, for those that counted these things), Mistress Goodhealth picked her way along the central ridge of the track that lead from the village in the direction of the logging camp in the forest. She was on her way home to the cottage that stood isolated near the forest edge.

She paused to think about the work she had done this night. As healerwoman and midwife to the village she had attended the confinement of her ladyship. The labour and birth had been more difficult than most, due to Lady Marie not being as robust as most of the village women and her carrying twins. The healerwoman wondered how she was going to advise her ladyship against having further children, because it seemed likely that any future pregnancy was likely to end in miscarriage or her death.

A noise interrupted her thoughts. She scanned the horizon (across the fields, to the forest edge). The slight brightening caused by pre-dawn rays of the sun reflecting from the few clouds in the sky, allowed her to detect a figure just beyond the tree line. At first her tired mind interpreted the sight as centaur, a creature she had heard of in stories, but as the light of the dawn strengthened, it resolved into a man with dark hair on a horse; the man was sitting far forward on his beast, because the horse was a draft animal, which were broader than the riding horses the nobles and their messengers rode. The man seemed to be watching her. The horse snorted impatiently.

Another noise encroached on the quiet. This noise, despite being less loud, immediately drew her attention. Mistress Goodhealth lengthened her steps, the feeble glow in the sky allowing her to move forward with more confidence in avoiding the frost-glazed puddles that intermittently filled the twin cart ruts that defined this track.

She was a short distance from her home when the small sound came again. This time she identified the noise as the muffled wail of a hungry baby. This seemed to be coming from the sheltered area by her door. She rushed forward to see what was there.

In the porch was a bundle of fabric from which peeked the puffy eyes of a baby that had cried much in its short life. The healerwoman scooped up the bundle and looked toward the figure under the eaves of the forest. The man on his horse evidently saw her and made a waving motion, before wheeling his horse around and disappearing among the trees.

The baby, which had fallen silent when it was picked up, made noises that seemed to be preparation for renewing the wailing. Mistress Goodhealth turned to the door and opened it. Inside was very dark, but warmer than outside. She placed the babe on the table and lit a lantern with an ember from the fire. She used the light to milk one of the goats.

With a bowl brimming with freshly drawn milk she returned to the baby. Having exposed its mouth she transferred some drops of the still warm liquid to the baby's lips with her fingers, which the baby avidly sucked. The healerwoman continued to feed the infant, by dipping her fingers in the milk bowl and then touching them to the baby's mouth.

After a while the child was satisfied and ready to sleep, after her long night Mistress Good needed to sleep too. She took the new-born to the curtained alcove that served as her bed and was soon asleep.

She did not sleep long, as the baby woke a few hours later demanding to be fed more. Dawn was hours ago, so having dripped sufficient milk into the baby, she released the goats into the grazing area behind the cottage and laid the fire, before readying herself and the baby for another round of sleep.

She did not get that far, as someone started hammering on the door.

She flung open the door and said, in an unfriendly tone, born of not enough sleep and fear that the baby would not sleep, "Well?"

The small boy stood frozen, between the need to deliver the message he had been sent with and the desire to flee this hostile reception.

"What is it, Bruns?" she snapped.

The boy seemed tongue-tied, so she forced herself to smile at him.

Finally, he blurted out, "Mistress Goodhealth, you've got to come quick. There's been an accident on the Mill Road."

Taking only the time to place the babe on the bed and grab her bag and a shawl, she closed the door behind her and encouraged the boy to lead the way. She soon saw a knot of men gathered on the road, but it was not until she reached them that she could see why they were gathered there.

In the ditch beside the road, lay a high sided cart, such as the pedlars use; one of the shafts was broken and most of the stays that supported the canvas of the roof were shattered.

She turned to Kurt, the village foreman, thus senior in rank, if not in years. He said, "There's someone in there. We think they need your help."

Her first impulse was to scold them for not doing anything to help, but she had often berated the men for moving the seriously injured and thus making their injuries worse. There did not seem to be any sound coming from inside wagon; her only option was to investigate.

She scrambled down the bank to the front seat of the cart and was relieve to find it stable, if tilted at a steep angle. She scrambled into the front section and stood in the debris of stock that had fallen there when the cart had toppled into the ditch. Sheltered from the breeze, she heard a sharp intake of breath from beyond the curtain that divided the already small space within the wagon. She waded through to the curtain and pulled it aside. Beyond she found a woman, pale under her sallow complexion.

The woman was the wife of the "winter pedlar"; the healerwoman did not know her name, because she was seen but rarely spoken to; because she spoke a foreign tongue, which made communication difficult. She lay propped up by a couple of pillows among blood-soaked sheets, obviously exhausted. Seeing Mistress Goodhealth, she smiled, which suddenly turned into a wince, when she tried to make a gesture of welcome with an arm that appeared to be broken.

Mistress Goodhealth clambered to the bed's edge and perched there. The woman was breathing shallowly, but fixed the healerwoman with a pain-filled eyes. She drew breath and began to speak in a whisper the language that she and the pedlar shared. Seeing that her visitor had not understood what she was saying, she concentrated and said, "Will my child life?"

Putting together the heavy blood loss and the arrival of a baby at her door, the healerwoman deduced this was the baby's mother. She took the woman's uninjured hand, while she felt in her bag for something to ease her pain. She took out a small bottle and placed it to the mother's lips.

"Your child will live," she said as she tip some of the bottle's contents into the woman's mouth.

The woman swallowed the medication and smiled again, weakly, and whispered some more in her native language; it had the tone of gratitude and a blessing, although Mistress Goodhealth did not understand the words. The woman squeezed her hand and seemed to relax against her pillows and close her eyes. Soon all vitality vanished from the woman and the hand fell from Mistress Goodhealth's.

After a quick check, the healerwoman knew there was nothing more she could do. She left the wagon and scrambled back up the bank; she gladly accepted the hand offered by one of the men.

Kurt's look asked what needed to be done.

"The woman has died, but I have her child and her husband is gone. Bring her to me and I will sit vigil for her tonight and she can be buried tomorrow. His Lordship will need to be told. If he needs to know more I shall be attending his wife and their twins tomorrow, he can ask me then."

Knowing that her instructions would be carried out, Mistress Goodhealth turned homeward to see that her promise to the dying woman would be fulfilled.

When she got home the baby was wailing, but was soon gurgling with the application of milky fingers. She did not get much rest before the man bearing the pedlar's wife arrived. They placed the body on the sick bed and departed to their day's work.

Kurt remained when the others had gone. "Does anything else need to be done?" he asked.

"You will tell his Lordship what has happened, of course, and I will be there tomorrow to check on Lady Marie and their two babies; he can ask me what he needs to then." Indicating the woman's body on the bed, she continued, "She will need a grave, so that she may be buried tomorrow; you will see to that?" Kurt nodded. "I know it's not the best weather for digging graves, but they must be dug. Now I must attend to the baby and its mother."

Kurt nodded once more and went to do his duties.

She spent the day between the laying out of the corpse, feeding the baby and snatching what rest she could between. Late in the day the baby needed changing. She unwrapped the baby and made a few discoveries. The first were seven gold coins and a piece of paper, on which in an unpractised hand had been written, "Child is Shanestra. Child must live." The second was that the infant had been wrapped in a great length of fine quality linen and muslin. The third was that the child was a girl.

The Healerwoman wrapped the girl in a woollen shawl and they slept until dusk. The goats were waiting to be let in as the sun sank beneath the trees. A fresh bowl of milk was stroked from the nanny's udders and the baby fed. The vigil seemed longer than usual, but was interrupted by the needs of the baby and herself. Besides the usual prayers and blessings that needed to said, Mistress Goodhealth was in the habit of talking to deceased; usually about their family and friends in the village, it did no harm as no-one but her would hear and gave vent to many secrets she had promised not to tell to another living soul. Not knowing the woman, she found herself reassuring the dead mother that her baby would not suffer the fate of abandoned orphans in some other villages, where they would be drowned so as not to be a burden.

She found herself saying, "Lord Garth is a just man, he will not kill anyone without good cause and your girl has done nothing wrong. She might be given to Bertram the weaver and Helga who have been childless for many years, but want one. Then again he may take her into his own family, with two extra small mouths to feed another one will not be much of a burden. The future is unclear, but your daughter will live."

Shortly after dawn, Kurt came with some men to take the body away. "Lord Garth, said that he did want to see you to talk about this baby's future and also his children. He'll want to know who the father is."

"Thank you, Kurt. I'll be going up to the manor mid-morning. I'll be sure to speak with his lordship then."

The early part of the morning was taken up with catching up with the household tasks, neglected for the past days. She fed the baby and bundled her up a shawl, then set off to the manor. On the way she passed the burial ground. She could easily see where the fresh grave had been filled and the presence of a wooden gravemarker. On impulse, she went to see what, if anything, had been written there.

The marker was a simple slab of wood, which someone had inscribed with a poker. It read, "Nissa, Wife of Kalgari, the winter pedlar." Mistress Goodhealth was pleased that someone knew the woman's name and had the respect to make a gravemarker recording it.

She paused to wonder if anyone in the village remembered her name from before she had become Mistress Goodhealth and what would be on her gravemarker when her time came.

She showed the grave to the baby, who cooed without comprehension.

She arrived at the manor and was greeted by the housekeeper.

"Good morning, Mistress, you've come to see Lady Marie and the twins?" Before she could answer, the housekeeper spotted the shawl-wrapped bundle in her arms and asked, "What's that you've got there?"

"Greta, you'll have heard about the accident on the Mill Road. Well, the pedlar's wife died; I sat vigil last night and they buried her this morning. This is her daughter. I will need to speak with his Lordship about what is to be done with her, once I've attended her Ladyship. By the way, how are Lady Marie and the twins?" It always paid to have some forewarning of the lady's temperament when visiting.

"The babes are beautiful and, apart from the excitement of twins, her Ladyship is nearly back to usual; wanting to know everything about everything in the household. She's still complaining about the back pain, but other than that she seems good. Shall I take you to her?"

"Please," said the Healerwoman, not because she did not know the way, but to show a small amount of deference, which reduced the gossip that might involve her.

She followed the housekeeper to the private quarters in the manor house and was shown in to the day room, where Lady Marie was sitting in a chair with one of her new infants to her breast; the other lay in a crib beside her, and gurgled contentedly.

"Good day, Mistress Goodhealth," Lady Marie's voice betrayed a touched of irritability, probably the result of less sleep that she was accustomed to.

"Good morning, Your Ladyship, how are your babies?" the healerwoman said as she placed the pedlar's baby girl on a table by the door.

"If they did not want feeding every hour, they would be perfect angels." The lady paused to detach the infant and cover her breast. "We cannot find a wet-nurse in the village, so we sent a messenger to Dunnston to see if we can hire one there. I hope we can find one, because my nipples are feeling sore."

"That's quite natural; you will get used to it, after all, it is only your second day. But a wet-nurse would be a good idea or you may run dry and need to use goat or cow's milk."

"I hear you have got a new mouth to feed too," commented Marie.

"Yes. She was born the same night as your twins, but unfortunately the mother died. I will be seeing his Lordship afterwards to decide her future. And how are you after the birth? No further bleeding? Or additional aches and pains?" the Healerwoman enquired.

"I am well enough, no problems that could not be explained by not getting enough sleep. Except my back still aches and sometimes pains me."

"Some light exercise, maybe a stroll in the grounds, will help, until you can get into your normal clothes," advised Mistress Goodhealth.

"You don't think the babies are a bit small; I don't want them to grow up weak, like some of the men I have seen at court. They seem smaller than the babies I have seen in the village."

Mistress Goodhealth knew she was meant to reassure the lady of the manor that her children would grow up to be fit and healthy, but she wondered if this was a chance to break the bad news that these were likely to be her only offspring. She went with reassurance first. "Being twins they are bound to be start out a bit smaller than usual, but you'll see they catch up soon enough, if properly fed, besides the babies you will have seen in the village will have been quite a bit older and had time to grow. With proper care there is no reason for anyone to think them weak or feeble, but with you and his Lordship being more lightly build than most of the village folk, I would be unsurprised if they grew up with similarly light frames."

Having delivered her reassurance, she was interrupted by a gurgle from the bundle she had left on the table, before she could start on the bad news.

"What was that?" Lady Marie asked. "Did you bring the pedlar's child? May I see?"

Mistress Goodhealth retrieved the bundle and held the child for her to examine.

"Such an unusual complexion and striking brown eyes," the lady commented.

Indeed, thought the healerwoman, most of the villagers were paler than this baby, the exceptions being those that were weathered from constant working in the fields. The baby was certainly a good deal darker than the babes in the ladies arms or the crib. The child that had been most recently been suckling gazed at her with green eyes, while the child in the cot blinked at her with blue.

"It looks like the child in your arms will follow its father and have red hair and the one in the cradle will likely be as fair as you."

"Does this child have a name?" the lady asked. "Mine are Lisl Annette," she gestured with the child in her arms, "for her grandmothers and Sven Henri," she nodded to the baby in the crib, "For his grandfathers."

"No, this child has no name yet. I expect that your husband will want to choose a name when I see him."

"You had better go and see him, then; a baby should not be without a name for too long."

Having been dismissed, the healerwoman repositioned the child in her arms and left the room. She was met in the dim corridor, by Karl, Lord Garth's steward.

"His Lordship wishes to see you, Mistress Goodhealth. Please follow me!" He seemed relieved that he had not needed to enter the room with Lady Marie. It was well-known that the lady would flirt with her husband's steward, much to his embarrassment; his wife, the housekeeper, Greta, tended to take it as a compliment that a high lady might desire her husband, while knowing that he did not return that desire.

She followed him to the great hall, where of the business of the estate and the village was conducted. Most of the morning business had been concluded so there were few people remaining.

Lord Garth sat in a large chair behind a table on a dais that allowed him to be at eye level with most of the people he dealt with without needing to stand. The table was strewn with documents, which his clerk was collecting, and an inkstand with a pair of goose quills; one used, one not.

"Good to see you, Mistress Goodhealth. I hear you have something that will require our judgement," his Lordship shouted across the hall.

"Yes, my lord," she replied striding the length of the hall, between the tables and benches that lined the walls. When she reached the edge of the dais, she placed the baby on the table.

"So, this is the child of Kalgari, our winter pedlar?" he asked.

She said, "Yes, Sir." She knew that Garth preferred to be in control of a conversation, especially about business matters, so you kept your answers short unless a longer response was demanded.

"It certainly has the beginnings of his looks, or perhaps his wife's; she was quite exotic, if I recall. How is it that you have his child?"

"He left her in my porch yesterday morning, before dawn; I have tended her since."

"So, he leaves his wife to die and leaves his child at the house of the healerwoman and then flees."

"Yes, Sir, but he did wait to see that the baby was found before going off. I think that his wife knew she was dying and insisted that he take the baby to someone who could look after it. It was a small miracle that she survived as long as she did, but if she had been moved she would have died a lot sooner. The child would have had no chance with a lone pedlar without a wagon."

"What did the woman say before she died?"

"She said something in her own language which I didn't understand, then she asked, 'Will my child live?' I assured her that her daughter would live and she said something that sounded like gratitude or a blessing, I don't know which, because I was barely able to hear her."

"I see. And is the girl heathy?" Garth asked.

"Yes, Sir. She is sound of wind and limb; there is no reason that, barring illness or injury, she should not grow up to be a useful member of the village," confirmed the Healerwoman.

"Surely, the pedlar did not leave her naked on your porch?"

"No, indeed sir, she would have surely perished. She was bundled up in enough linen and muslin to make a fine summer dress for her ladyship, seven golden coins and a scrap of paper, on which he had written."

"Do you have them with you?" Mistress Goodhealth nodded. "Let me see!"

She placed the gold coins on the table; it was more wealth than she had seen in her lifetime. Then she flatten the paper onto the table.

The Lord picked up a coin and gave it a brief inspection, before tossing it to the clerk, instructing him to check that it was real. With a quick, "Yes, Sir," the clerk departed.

Attention was turned to the paper. Garth looked at the written side and turned it over to see that nothing was added on the back. "'Child is Shanestra. Child must live.' Peculiar," he mused. "What is 'Shanestra'?" he tried repronouncing the word to see if it held any more meaning that way. "Sha-nestra, Shayn-nestra, Shay-neestray. It makes no sense at all, maybe it's a name of sorts. Take my militia captain, Barnabas, his name sounds like a bunch of sounds, but he claims that it means something beyond a name in the land of his fathers. We shall call the child Shanestra, because whoever wrote this wanted it so."

The clerk re-entered the hall and placed the coin he had taken back on the table. "So?" said Lord Garth.

"These coins are gold, so have value, but they are not minted for the king, therefore cannot be counted as money. We would need to send them to the Royal Treasurer in Dunnston to be exchanged for legal coin. They should convert to about a thousand pennies each."

"It seems our winter pedlar was a rich man, to have provided so generously for the upkeep of his daughter. See that these are converted to proper coinage!" he instructed as he swept up the seven coins and deposited them in the clerk's hand. "Hmm, now what to do with the child? Do you have any suggestions?"

"Well, Bertram the Weaver and his wife, Helga, have remained without child for many years and they truly desire one."

"True enough, but ideally they need a boy, because weaving is heavy work. And I understand that Helga has some grudge against the pedlar; something about his wife causing her warts. I doubt that the pedlar's abandoned child would find a welcome there."

Mistress Goodhealth frowned; she had forgotten that Helga harboured a dislike for pedlars in general and Kalgari, the winter pedlar, and his wife in particular. "I am at a loss to think of any other people in need of a child."

His Lordship paused as if considering the problem, but a twinkle in his eye indicated that had an idea, but wondered how to broach it, so that his idea might be most easily accepted. "So, how are you?"

The healerwoman was a little startled by the question and answered it honestly, before she realised where the conversation was heading. "Tired from two sleepless nights, but otherwise, very well."

"And how is you search for a girl to train to be our healerwoman, for the day that must come. None of us life forever and I am sure that the healing arts are not taught in an afternoon."

"Well, Sofia, the miller's daughter, is a good girl and will come to help, if I need someone to tend the sick, but since she started courting with Ulfric, she hasn't had her heart in it."

"So, you need someone to learn the healing arts and to help out when there is more than you can do on your own," the Lord summarised.

"Yes, Sir."

"I see here an answer to both these riddles. You need someone to teach your trade and the child needs a home for now and for the future a means of earning her keep. Congratulations, you now have a daughter. I shall see to it that neither of you starve."

Mistress Goodhealth was stunned by the sudden turn of events. "But what if the pedlar comes back to reclaim his daughter?"

"If he comes to claim her back before her first birthday, he may have her. After that we will keep her. I shall speak to the spring pedlar; for I am sure that a message may be passed that way."

That seemed to be his Lordship's judgement, so Mistress Goodhealth took the baby from the table and the paper bearing the child's name. As she was about to turn to leave, his lordship added, "Oh, and be sure to send over the linen and muslin, that we may test your claim that it will make a fine dress for my lady wife."

The healer woman curtseyed and headed for the door.

Outside waiting was Greta. "So, who is getting the baby?" she said without preamble. "It'll be Helga, won't it?"

"No, I'll be keeping the baby; his Lordship didn't think that she would be well treated there; you know how she blames the pedlar-folk for her warts. So, I'm to train the child to take on my duties, when I can no longer do them myself."

"But, I thought you were teaching Sofia the healer's ways."

"I was, but since she noticed a sparkle in Ulfric's eye when he sees her, she has been less interested in becoming a healer and more interested in becoming a daughter-in-law in the smith's house."

"I heard that Ulfric and Sofia have been seen walking together hand in hand in the orchards." She left that thought dangling, allowing what conclusions her audience wanted to draw be drawn, before changing the subject. "We've baked a batch of loaves this morning. I can let you have one, if you like; I dare say you have had little time to cook for yourself over the past few days."

The healerwoman accompanied the housekeeper to the manor's kitchen, which were busier than usual with the beginnings of the preparations for the Midwinter Feast. She escaped Greta's inquisition about details of village life without letting her know anything she did not already know or confirming any rumours (true or false).

On the way home, she rehearsed the girl's name and found it soon came readily to her tongue and brought with it a sweet and exotic flavour.

----------

The winter passed clean and cold, meaning that the healerwoman had nobody come with any illness, and only a few with injuries sustained from slippery conditions. She used the time not spent looking after the baby, the gather the herbs that are more potent when touched by frost and preparing salves to ease the cold-induced aches and pains of the older members of the community. During this time Kalgari did not return, but few missed him as the goods he had left in the cart, were distributed by Lord Garth at the Midwinter Feast.

Spring came early and wet, making the herbs plentiful; allowing further preparation of salves and medicines, most of which were exchanged for food and other essentials of life.

Partway through the month of Greening, the spring pedlar arrived and stayed for two days, as was customary.

Late on the second day, Mistress Goodhealth went to see him, to sell him some of the surplus medicines she had made in exchange for some of the ingredients she could not find in the woods or grow in her garden. She took the baby with her.

Once the business of haggling was concluded, the pedlar took a look at the child. "This is Kalgari's child? She already looks to be a credit to her father; you can tell it in their eyes even when they are this young."

"So, you know what happened then. You been seen by his Lordship?"

"Yes, your Lordship came to see me, that I might carry the message of his decision to the baby's father. Kalgari will seek me out, he wants to know what will become of his daughter. I think he will be pleased with the outcome, but I do not think you will see him again."

She asked him why not.

"He will be spending much of this year seeking a new wife; he is a man who needs wife. When winter comes you will have a new winter pedlar. Once Kalgari has a new wife, he will serve different places than he has served before. But he will want to know what you have named his child."

"We decided to name her Shanestra."

For a moment the pedlar looked shocked, before schooling his face to an expression of mild interest.

"It's not a bad name, is it? It was what he wrote the paper he left with her."

"It is not a bad name, certainly; it is a bold name. Let us hope she grows to be what her name implies; her eyes tell me that this is having a good chance, if she does not get turned from the path. Her father did not name her, but Nissa did; he cannot write, which is why he needs a wife. She knew a thing or two."

Summer passed hot and dry. Mistress Goodhealth spent much of her time tending and drying the herbs in her garden until Shanestra began to grow her first teeth, when her sleeping became more erratic. The healerwoman prepared a paste with a pain easing ingredient which she wrapped in a scrap of cloth for the infant suck on.

The summer pedlar came and went without Mistress Goodhealth getting to see him or his wife; she was in isolation seeing a man from logging camp through a fever he had caught while spending his money in Dunnston. While she treated the woodsman, she allowed the baby to be in the sick room, which had the dual purposes of allowing the child to catch and be cured of the illness, thus shielding her from it in the future and giving the logger something to interest him, so reducing the man's tendency to call the healerwoman from many other duties, because he was bored. The man left promising to supply her with firewood for the winter.

Through the month of Harvest and into Leaffall, the wood pile under her eaves grew and the weather remained fair.

The autumn pedlar sought the healer woman, saying that the medicines he had purchased from her previously had sold well and were reported to be particularly effective. He wanted to stock up on what he called 'The Goodhealth Elixir'. "It's good for business to have a medicine that works; there are some travelling folk who seek to make some quick money by selling stained water flavoured with mint."

"Mint has its uses; it can soothe the digestion. So it would depend on what was used to colour the water if such a thing was any use, although I dare say that even if it is harmless it is overcharged for."

"Indeed they do. It helps no one; the customer is no better for buying the potion and the reputation of us honest pedlars suffers, unless we can build a personal name for ourselves."

When the adults had concluded their business, the pedlar asked after the child. "I will likely be meeting Kalgari and he will want news of the child." When he saw her he said, "She looks to have the makings of a handsome woman; maybe not the beauty that her mother was, but a handsome one nonetheless."

Later in the day, while she bustled to the manor to treat a minor fever the twins had caught, she observed the pedlar, kneeling to place a bunch of fern leaves and poppies on Shanestra's mother's grave.

The lord's twins were covered from head to toe with a splatter of reddened spots. She gave the maid who had charge of the children, while their parents visited in Kingsport on court business, some medicine to help the little ones rest and some advice.

She returned home with some clothes for her child, having spoken to Greta letting her know, and thus the entire community, that the twin's nursery and her cottage should be avoided for the next week, except in the direst emergency. She spent the week scurrying between the manor and the cottage as the fever in the twins subsided and Shanestra's temperature rose. During this week, while the villagers avoided her too, she found welcome offerings of food left in the house's porch.

The remainder of Leaffall and into Firstfrost saw much activity in the village as the villagers readied themselves for the winter to come; preserving what would otherwise rot and storing the rest where the rats could not deplete the stock and spoil the rest.

Late in the afternoon, Mistress Goodhealth heard a horse stop close to the cottage and was ready for the rapping on her door. The opened the door to a figure of a dark complexion and black hair tied in a knot on top of his head.

"I wondered if I would be seeing you before the year was out. Come in; unless you would prefer to stall your horse under the eaves around the back."

The man turned to tend his horse, so she poured some water into the kettle and put it on the fire. She took the infant and settled her in the cradle, the reedsman's daughter had woven, and placed it in the sick room before opening the cottage's rear door to let the pedlarman in.

"Have you come to claim your daughter, Mister Kalgari?"

"Just Kalgari, please! We folk do not take titles to ourselves; a man's name is who he is; embellishing it speaks of vanity. What may I call you?"

Having tried to be formal with the pedlar and feeling she had failed, she felt that 'Mistress Goodhealth' would be the wrong name to use in the circumstances, but she had no other. "You may call me 'Ursel', it is the name I grew up with until I became 'Mistress Goodhealth'."

"Then I shall call you Ursel. Where is my daughter?" he enquired.

It dawned on the healerwoman that Kalgari was here, because this was where he had left her, not because he knew she was still here. "She is in the other room sleeping," she said.

He seemed surprised.

"I took her to Lord Garth, as is the custom with orphans, and he decided that if you did not return to claim her, I was to raise her to be a healerwoman as I am, against the day I cannot do it myself."

"Your Lord Garth does seem to have a wise head, but I assumed that she would go to the weaver and his barren wife."

"As did I, but his Lordship recalled that she blamed your folk for her warts and so considered that the child would not be brought up in the proper way." After a pause, she added, "So have you come to claim your child?"

"If I had found a wife this past year, I would be here to claim my child. But without a wife, a travelling man is not right for such a small child. Honestly, I came to find what lay ahead for her, that I might decide to leave her to that fate or steal her away to be put in the hands of one of my brothers."

"You have come to see if we would bring your daughter up well," she accused. "And have you decided?"

"I came to see that she would not be cruelly treated and had the chance to become something worthy. As a healerwoman will she be given some portion of respect?"

"As a healerwoman, I am respected here, but a healerwoman must earn respect and that earning depends on her knowledge and skill. I will endeavour to teach her those, because the village will still need a healer when I am gone, and I want those I have seen born to reach the grave with as much care as I can give them."

"And will you teach her the reading and the writing?" asked the pedlar.

"I would, because, unless you have a perfect memory, you need to be able to record what has been done and how. Why would you want your daughter to read and write?"

"It is well that you will teach her the reading and the writing, that she may follow her allotted path in life, but should she choose to follow her blood instead of her up-bringing, she will need the knowing of the words and the numbers if she is to become the wife of a worthy man of my tribe."

"That sounds like you have decided to leave her with me."

"Yes, you may be happy, that I think you will be a good person to bring her up. Or you may be sad that I leave you with such an onerous duty."

"I am gladdened that I will not be losing the little one, because I am beginning to love her, despite, or perhaps because of, the many sleepless nights she has caused. Would you like to see her?"

"That is allowed? I would very much like to see her."


The healerwoman went to fetch the cradle from the other room and placed it on the table. Kalgari looked in and smiled as the child opened its eyes. The child smiled back.

"I can already see much of her mother in her, but her eyes speak of a stormy future. I will wish her arriving in happiness." The pedlar began to speak in his own tongue. The healerwoman recognised them as the same words his dying wife had barely managed to whisper just before her death.

"What are those words? They were the last words your wife said before she passed."

"It is a very old tribal blessing, it says, in your language, 'When you come to your final day may you look back on your life and remember much more happy days than sad days.' That Nissa said this to you makes me sure I am making the right decision. Nissa had great knowing beyond the words and the numbers. She would not bless you without cause."

"We have called her Shanestra, because it was on the note your wife put in with the baby."

"I had hoped that Pensari was joking when he said that she had been named that, but he spoke the truth. It is a portentous name and previous bearers of it have found their way to greatness in the world much difficult. I pray that she will be spared some of the trials, even if she does not reach the greatness because of it. But I have no doubt that Nissa meant well when she wrote the name."

"Will you be wanting to visit your wife's grave? I made sure she got a decent burial."

"We usually cremate our dead, but having a place to remember the dead is important. I will go. Please do not tell of my visit, for I am no longer your winter pedlar (that honour has passed to another) and tradition says we do not visit the places of another pedlar. If you need something for the young one, please let one of my brother pedlars know and if I can I will supply my daughter's needs. I may not be present for her, but I do what little I can to fulfil the duty of a father to his child."

He whispered some more words in the pedlar's language to the baby, bid them both farewell and left.