When the afterbirth slid free and Agda cut off a corner of it for Weiwara to swallow, all the women turned to regard Alain. He waited quietly. Adica braced herself.
Yet no flood of recrimination poured from Orla. Agda sat silent. The afterbirth lay in glistening splendor in the birth platter at her feet, ready for cooking.
No one scolded him. No one made the ritual signs to protect themselves against the pollution he had brought in with him, the one who had walked into a place forbidden to males. Though it was wrong to let him stay, Adica hadn’t the strength or the heart to send him out. He had brought light in with him, even if it was only by the lifting of the flap of hide tied across the threshold, because the flap had caught on the basket hook, halfway up the frame, and hung askew. The rose blemish on his cheek seemed especially vivid now, almost gleaming.
“What manner of creature is this?” murmured Mother Orla a second time.
“The child was dead,” said Agda. “I know what death feels like under my hands.” She, too, could not look away from him, as if he were a poisonous snake, or a being of great power. “What manner of creature is he, that can bring life out of death?”
But of course that made it obvious, once it was stated so clearly. “He is a man,” explained Adica, watching him as he watched her. He seemed confused and a little embarrassed, half turned away from Weiwara as Getsi cleaned her with water and a sponge of sound rushes. “He was walking to the land of the dead when the Holy One brought him to me to be my companion.”
Weiwara was still too dazed by the birth to respond, or perhaps even to have heard, but Agda and Orla merely nodded their heads and pulled on their ears to make sure no evil spirits had entered into them in the wake of such a provocative statement.
“So be it,” said Orla. “If the Holy One has brought him to you, then she must not be afraid that he will bring any bad thing onto the village.”
“If he was walking to the land of the dead,” said Agda, “then truly he might have found this child’s soul wandering lost along the path, and he might have carried it with him back to us.”
Orla nodded in agreement. “It takes powerful magic to call a person off the path that leads to the Other Side. Maybe he has already seen the Other Side. Speaks he of it?”
“He cannot speak in any language I know, Mother Orla,” admitted Adica.
“Nay, nay,” retorted Agda. “None who have glimpsed the Other Side can speak in the tongue of living people anymore. Everyone knows that! Is he to be your husband, Adica?” She hesitated before going on. “Will he follow you where your fate leads?”
“That is what the Holy One promised me.”
“Perhaps,” said Orla, consideringly, “a person who can see and capture wandering spirits, like that of this child, ought to stay in the village during this time of trouble. Then he can see any evil spirits coming, and chase them away. Then they won’t be able to afflict us.”
“What are you saying, Mother?” Agda glanced toward Alain suspiciously.
“I will speak to the elders.”
“Let me take him outside,” said Adica quickly. “Then I will purify the birthing house so that Weiwara can stay here for her moon’s rest.” The new mother’s bed lay ready, situated along one wall: a wooden pallet padded with rushes, a sheepskin, and the special wool padding bound with sprigs of rowan that brought a new mother ease and protection. Cautiously, Adica touched Alain on the elbow. His gaze, still fixed on the newborn in Weiwara’s arms, darted to her.
“Come.” She indicated the door.
Obediently, he followed her outside. It seemed in that short space of time that the whole village had heard of the adult male who had walked into the birthing house. Now every person in the village crowded outside the fence, waiting to see what would happen.
Beor shouldered his way to the front. He took the ax from Weiwara’s husband and fingered the ax head threateningly as he watched them emerge. Like bulls and rams, men always recognized a rival by means not given to women to understand.
“I will take care of this intruder,” said Beor roughly as Adica approached the gate.
“He is under my protection.” The dogs pushed through the crowd toward their master. Their size and fearsome aspect made people step away quickly. “And under the protection of spirit guides as well, it seems.”
One of the big dogs, the male, nudged Beor’s thigh and growled softly: a threat, but not an attack. Alain spoke sharply to the dog, and it sat down, stubbornly sticking to its place, while Alain waited on the other side of the fence, measuring Beor’s broad shoulders and the heft of the ax. Under the sunlight, the rose blemish that had flared so starkly on the tumulus and inside the birthing house faded to a mere spot of red on his cheek, nothing out of the ordinary.
