Despite their new understanding, Sophia saw little of Yunan over the following weeks. She fretted over her restrictions within the women's quarters of the mountain stronghold, longing to walk outside in the fresh air and feel grass under her feet instead of dust or stone.
Each day Penelope massaged her skin with scented oils, hoping to soothe her disquiet with local gossip and intrigue.
"Why can't I walk outside?" Sophia demanded. "This is your father's land, his sworn people. I cannot spend my life inside this maze of tunnels."
"Hush, now," Penelope gently eased Sophia's tunic over her head and helped her lie on warmed towels. A brazier burned in the corner, helping to ward off the chill of the rooms now winter approached.
"If it were truly safe, we would all be outside carrying out our daily duties, but these are difficult times. A runner came from the village last night with tales of bandits in the hills not twenty leagues away. A good harvest in the valleys often bring down the hill folk to raid those more fortunate than themselves before snow seals the passes.
"My father is gone to speak with the village chiefs to see what can be done and whether his riders must seek retribution from those who steal. He will be back tonight if everything goes well."
With the oil warmed in her hands, she began to stroke Sophia's hunched shoulders, working her fingers into tight muscles until the girl was forced to relax or suffer further discomfort from her companion.
"It's not fair," Sophia grumbled. "He tells you everything, yet I am to make do with snippets of conversation, as if this were none of my business."
"He wishes you to rest, not to be troubled by such incidents. You have the baby to think about."
"What if I tell you I do not wish to think about my child? Soon I will go into labour. We do not find childbirth easy in my family. Each time my mother was brought to bed with my brothers, her women despaired.
"My nurse was supposed to keep me away with my sisters, but they could not stop my ears from hearing her screams. Hour upon hour the silent house was rent with her cries of pain until all was done. Each time I never knew whether my mother lived or died for several days. Each birth left her weaker until she faded before our eyes.
"When I think of giving birth, I think of death."
Penelope tutted behind her. "To have such thoughts in your mind helps neither you nor your child. Tell me your greatest fear about the birth and perhaps we can assuage it."
"To lie down on a bed and be too exhausted to push the baby out."
Penelope gently gripped her shoulders. "In this land, our women to not lie to give birth, they sit -- on a stool. It is much more comfortable than lying down and easier for the baby too."
"How do you know these things?"
"The woman who cared for me after my mother died was a midwife. I learned from her how to attend a woman in labour, how to make her time easier." She clapped her hands and a serving woman was instantly in attendance.
"Marta will fetch the stool and you can try it out. Better to be at ease with it now, than wait until you need it."
The woman returned with a low, wooden stool made from dark, polished wood. In the centre was a small backrest and the seat itself was in the shape of a horseshoe. At Penelope's suggestion, Sophia tried to seat herself on the birthing stool, but the towels in which she was swathed made it uncomfortable. With a little encouragement, Penelope was able to unwrap the slender girl, exposing her beautiful swollen breasts and rounded belly.
Sophia sat back, resting herself against the serving woman's ample body while Penelope arranged her legs so she could feel the support of the stool beneath her. She sat cross-legged on the floor, gently massaging Sophia's toes, talking to her in a calm, relaxed manner.
"Many women are surprised by the noises they make whilst giving birth. They are so similar to those during the act of love. Maybe the Gods chose to make them similar to remind us how each child comes into the world."
Penelope looked up, catching Sophia's glance, noticing the blush on the young woman's cheek before she looked away. After a long pause, Sophia confided, "I ... do not cry out...when ... when I... come to that point."
Penelope smiled, "I can help you with that, if you wish."
