It took Lydia a long time to go to sleep that night. When she finally did she slipped into a nightmare on the bank of the River Test. The sky was dark and starless. Male voices swirled around her. Two dark figures moved across the surface of the water. She heard large wings beating. A squawk tore through her. The squawk turned into a scream. A woman screaming. It sounded like her mother! She called out, “Moder, where are you? I can help. Please tell me where you are!”

All at once the screaming ceased and Bab appeared. The tiny old woman looked up at her. Before Aunt Rachel took over Bab's practice, she had been the best midwife in Southampton. Her wrinkled brown face was framed by a black shawl. Her eyes shown like spits of fire. Lydia asked her, “Do you know where Moder is?" The old woman pointed to the sky. "No!" Lydia protested, "I need her here! She needs to be here!"

"Nay child, her pain was great, she could no longer bear it."

"What about my pain?" Lydia asked.

"It will lessen with time, but never go away. Now, be wary. Change is coming." Drawing the shawl over her face, Bab vanished.

Lydia screamed, "Come back!"

From the gloom, Aunt Rachel’s voice called to her, "Wake up child it is only a bad dream."

Was it? Lydia struggled to reach her aunt's voice. She felt arms go around her. When she awoke her cheek was pressed against Aunt Rachel's. Gently she asked, "What did you dream?”

"It was dark and I was by the river. Bab was there."

Aunt Rachel pulled away from her. “Bab came to you? She comes to me sometimes too. I often wonder if she is among the living or the dead. What did she say?"

Though it was hard to speak the words, Lydia told her.

Aunt Rachel said, "I know that was hard for you to hear, but it is true. You will recover, but you will also always miss your moder." Aunt Rachel took her back in her arms and held. After awhile she said, “Let us try to get what sleep is left to us this night.”

Sleep did not return to Lydia, in fact she was afraid to go back to sleep. Silent tears slid from her eyes. Finally, along the edges of the shuttered window first light broke sliced through the dark.

At the front door there was a timid knock. Aunt Rachel groaned, "Who could it be at this hour?" She got up, threw on her shawl and went into the front room. Lydia heard her unbolt the door. It creaked as it swung open. A frightened child's voice exclaimed, “Aunt Rachel.”

The child had called Aunt Rachel, Aunt Rachel! Lydia crawled out of bed and peeked into the front room. A little girl of around seven stood outside the door. Her dress was made of rough brown wool. Her eyes turned to Lydia. They were the same startling blue as Lydia’s mother’s had been. Her thin nervous hands fluttered to her unkempt blonde hair. Her hands were like Lydia’s, so was the snub of her nose. Was this child her half sister?

Aunt Rachel asked, "Your moder? Are you sure? She is not due for at least another fortnight."

The girl nodded. "I know. This one be early. Please come now.”

“I will. I just need to get dressed and get my bag."

"I gotta get back." The little girl turned and ran.

Aunt Rachel called out, "Quincy wait!"

There was no response. Aunt Rachel sighed and turned to Lydia. "It is not safe for her to be running about alone. Hurry get dressed."

"What? You are joking."

"I am not.” Aunt Rachel crossed the room and went into the bedroom. "Be quick, dunna stand there staring."

If that child was who Lydia thought she was, there was NO WAY she was going to that house. In desperation she asked, “What if Fader shows up?”

Aunt Rachel cocked her right eyebrow. Her look squashed every bit of Lydia’s resolve. Her aunt said, “Thomas only attends the births of his legitimate children. His bastards do not get his attention or his presence. Come on now, you will not have to help with the birthing. Quincy will do that. I think she has the makings of a midwife in her. I just need you to watch the other children.” She paused, “And I think it is time you met your sisters.”

“I--”Lydia began to protest, but her aunt’s eyes silenced her.

*

Aunt Rachel walked so fast! Lydia could barely keep up. They passed through the west gate into Southampton and turned. Aunt Rachel headed toward the lowers. Surely Thomas Wade would not keep his mistress in the lowers! When Lydia was a little girl the Jews had resided in the lowers. Now there was not a single Jew in all of King Edward's realm. His men had killed some and sent the rest packing to where ever Jews could be abided. In Paris, King Philip was growing weary of them.

The day the Jews left had been an awful day. Lydia recalled how the sunlight shattered on the surface of the River Test. She, her mother and Aunt Rachel stood on the shore. Out on the river, crowded into every available floating vessel were the Jewish people. They had only been allowed to take what they could carry. Their homes, their possessions were being confiscated by King Edward's men. The mob at the river had spat on the Jews and cried curses at them. Lydia had never known people could be so hateful. On that long ago morning Bab had been among those Jews. Clutched in her arms was her birthing bag. She had helped birth many of those who called curses down on her and her people. Aunt Rachel had wept. It was the only time Lydia had ever seen her cry.

From an open window the aroma of burning fish wafted. The smell of it jerked Lydia back to the present. A dirty child darted across the street. By the rags it wore, Lydia could not tell if it was male or female. Aunt Rachel tossed the child a hard roll. The child caught it with dirty hands. It took a bite like a starved animal. Lydia had to look away. She had never known such hunger.

The street was filthy with slops and dirty water. A stench was beginning to rise. The stench would worsen with the day. Lydia tried holding her breath, but that did not work. How much further? At that moment Aunt Rachel made an abrupt stop in front of a dilapidated cottage. She knocked on the wooden door. It was riddled with woodworms. So this was the hovel where Thomas housed his mistress and bastards. Aunt Rachel called out, “Ducks it me, Aunt Rachel.”

At once, the door swung open. A stout little girl with dark curls said, “It is about time!” The child favored Aunt Rachel.

"Rose, I came as soon as I could."

Rose cocked her eyebrow just like Aunt Racheldid. This was peculiar. Lydia felt the sudden grip of Aunt Rachel's hand around her wrist. She propelled her inside. It was not a filthy house, but it was old and smelled of mice and mildew. On the stone floor was a baby with a dimple in her cheek like Fader's. Beside the baby sat a little girl with brown eyes who looked to be around four. Aunt Rachel did not waste any time introducing these children. A low moan from the second room, sent her swiftly through the door. Lydia heard her say, “Good job Quincy, you already have the water and the knife ready. You are such a smart girl.”

An odd stab of jealousy pricked Lydia. Aunt Rachel had always seemed to be her sole possession, and now she realized she was not.

Rose asked, “Who are you?”

How much did this child know about her parentage? Maybe nothing. She said, “I am Lydia.”

It was enough for the girl. “I am Rose and these is my sisters. The baby is Annie and the other is Bea. I think Annie is dirty, she smells funny, but I canna reach the baby napkins.” She pointed to a high shelf near the hearth. “Could you fetch me the lot? Annie is nothin’ but a fountain of piss. Changin’ nappies all day is what I do.”

Lydia surveyed the shelf. It was well stocked with pots of various sizes. Dried apples were stacked beside several loaves of coarse bread. There was also a bowl of brown eggs. At least her father made sure his bastards did not starve. She grabbed the napkins from the shelf. Rose took one from her, gathered up Annie and hoisted her onto the table. With expert hands she lifted the baby’s gown, pulled the soiled napkin off, wiped the baby down with something that smelled sweet, and then applied the fresh napkin. Lydia had never changed a baby before. Dead babies did not need to be changed.

The day passed slowly. Out side of a few moans, all Lydia heard from the second room was her aunt’s voice and from time to time Quincy would speak.

Rose bustled around the cottage, like a little mother. She was very adroit. Without being told, she swept and cleaned the room, washed the baby clothes and fed Annie and Bea. The eggs she scrambled were delicious and so was the toast she roasted on the fire. Lydia told her, “You are a good house keeper.”

“Aye,” said Rose. “I got to be, Quincy always off thinkin’ about things tryin’ to figure out the what and which. Not fittin’ for a girl ‘specially when she is a bastard. Me, I dunna forget me place. I hope to keep house for a proper man some day. My time is comin’. I am six and in seven years Fader Wade has promised me a good husband.”

For a long moment Lydia stared at this sister of hers. When she was seven a husband was not even a thought in her head. Though it had always been a thought in her father's. Which was a problem she did not have time to worry about now. Rose picked up the baby and began to rock her in her strong arms.

That evening a gray mist crept over the town. Soon it would be dark. Lydia sat down in a chair by the closed the shutters. Bea shyly climbed into her lap. She asked, “Do you know any stories like Fader Wade?”

Her father told these children stories? He had never told her a single tale, at least not that she could remember.Yes he taught her how to make perfect candles both wax and tallow, but he never took time to amuse her. Jealousy pricked her. “I do know a few stories, my moder told me about when she was a little girl growing up in Paris.”

“What is Paris?” asked Bea.

Though she had never been there, Lydia said, “It is a beautiful place where the River Seine flows around Notre Dame.”

“Notre Dame? Is that the great lady?”

Though a bastard, the child was not completely un-churched. “You have heard of the blessed mother?”

“Yes. Baby Jesus’ Moder. I like that story, tell me that story. Fader Wade makes all the animal noises when the baby is born in the barn. Moder does not have our babies in the barn. I think we might get us a boy baby if she did.”

At the hearth Rose said, “No that will never happen.”

Bea protested, "Could to!"

Like an old woman, Rose shook her head. "Bea are you forgettin' the curse."

In Lydia's arms, Bea shuddered. "I forgot."

So even these children knew God refused to give Thomas Wade a son.

At that moment the sharp cry of a baby sounded beyond the closed door. The baby raged. Lydia had never heard such hearty cries before. Rose shook her head and sighed. "Another screecher, ah, this 'un will be the death of me."

The second room door opened and Aunt Rachel called over the baby's roars, “Girls, come see your new sister.”

As Bea slid off Lydia’s lap, she grabbed her hand and pulled her to the second room. It was a small tight space filled with three cots. On one of them Hagar rested. In her arms was the babe. Rose was the first one to the baby. Without hesitation she plucked the baby from her mother's arms. With her deft hands she unwound the baby's swaddling. Her sharp eyes examined every bit of her. All the while the baby roared. She was so pink, wiggly and alive!

Aunt Rachel said, “Rose, she is all there. Now wrap her up and give her to Lydia.” Rose wrapped the baby. With apprehensive eyes she handed her over to Lydia.

In her arms the baby quieted. Her tiny lashes fluttered open and Lydia looked into dark blue eyes. Within those eyes she saw her own reflection and felt an instant connection to the tiny bit of humanity.