In the glamorous, glittering and dangerous court of king Henry VIII and his queen Katherine of Aragon, the desperate desire for a healthy male heir overshadows all. Plagued by a series of miscarriages the queen is left grappling with the weight of her singular duty to provide a son for the Crown. Amidst this turmoil the queen turns to Sarah Menendez, the most highly skilled midwife in England. Sarah, exiled from her homeland and concealing her true identity must serve the queen and battle her deepest fears. As Sarah strives to save the queen from the perils of childbirth, the specter of her own past threatens to unravel the carefully crafted identity Sarah has created for herself and her young daughter.
In a world where power, politics and religion collide, Sarah finds herself entangled in a web of intrigue and deadly danger. The fate of the queen’s unborn child, the survival of the midwife and her daughter, and the stability of the kingdom hang in the balance. Sarah Menendez must employ all of her skills, cunning and courage to protect those she holds dear as well as the life of the queen and her unborn child.
The Tudor Queens’ Midwife is a gripping tale of secrecy, sacrifice and religious turmoil amongst the most opulent court the world has ever seen.
Excerpt 4: (Trigger warning)
Queen Katherine draws in a big breath and pushes as if her life depends on it. I have my hand beneath her and I can feel the baby’s head straining to come out. I suddenly understand the problem.
“I want you to pant now, dear. Don’t push until I say so. And I am sorry if what I am going to do now will hurt you. Please lean back against Faith.”
I reach up into the womb and find what I had feared. The child’s cord is wrapped around his neck, preventing him from moving out of the womb. I quickly and deftly move away the cord from around the baby’s neck and pray he has not strangled inside his mother’s womb. On the next push, the little boy comes shooting out of his mother. I am fortunately able to grab onto the slippery infant before he hits the floor.
He is blue and floppy. Quickly I cut the cord and proceed to rub him briskly all over. I put my finger into his tiny mouth to see if mucus is clogging his airways. I then turn him upside down and smack his bottom. The tiny boy gives a quiet mewling cry and I turn him right side up again. His eyes are open, and his chest starts to turn pink. I hand him to his mother, who has tears pouring down her face. She looks at her tiny son and kisses his damp head.
“God bless you, my son, God bless you.”
I pull Faith to the side and whisper to her, “I know we usually clean the babies before we give them to their mothers, but not this time. This baby needs to be held and talked to by his mother more than he needs clean swaddling bands.”
Faith nods her head and then asks, “What was going on, I couldn’t see anything from where I was sitting.”
“The child had his cord looped twice around his neck. It was not a long cord to begin with, so the baby was essentially getting strangled each time the head was being pushed out. I had to get her into a different position so that I could unloop the cord and get the child born as quickly as possible.”
Faith nods her head, “That makes sense. I’m glad you figured it out in time to save the prince.”
We go back to the bed, and Katherine smiles up at me through her tears and says, “Sarah you have saved my baby. How did you know what to do—how do you always know what to do?”
I smile and rub my finger against the baby’s silken cheek and reply, “Perhaps it is the Lord guiding me, giving me the knowledge of what I must do. We are all guided by Him, Your Majesty.”
Katherine’s eyes shine again with that fanatical light that terrified me before. “Yes, Sarah, how wise you are. The holy Mother of our Savior speaks to you! You are her beloved chosen one, here to do the Lord’s work! Oh, my dear, I always knew you were special! And your daughter—Faith! She has been touched by great holiness being your daughter! How fortunate am I to be assisted by you in my time of need.”
I pat her arm and say, “I recommend that Your Majesty rest now. I will clean the child and dress him, then he shall be back in your arms.”
I gently gather up the little boy and take him off to be cleaned and dressed. He has not completely lost his bluish colour, but he is quietly alert and no longer floppy. I rub him all over with salve, then clean him off with linen towels. He gets a bit pinker when I rub him, but after I am finished, I notice that his little hands and feet remain bluish. I apply another coat of salve, rubbing it into all of his little folds, and then I sprinkle goldenseal powder over his naval stump. I finish his libations by dressing him in his swaddling bands and a beautiful linen gown embroidered with white vines and flowers. A tiny bonnet on his head, and he is finally ready to go back to Queen Katherine.
I have a strong instinct to stay on with Katherine. Faith delivers the placenta and has not found it missing any pieces. I help Faith pack up our birthing supplies and tell her since it is well past midnight, we will have to stay another night at the palace.
In the morning, I awake first and immediately go to check on the queen and her new baby. The queen is awake and enjoying her beautiful baby. The child is asleep, his chest rising and falling with his breath. The wet nurse is likewise still asleep in a big, upholstered armchair, and is snoring away despite the sun streaming through the windows.
“I would like to see how well the baby nurses, Your Majesty. I shall wake up his wet nurse and watch the child eat.”
The queen hands over her boy, and I carry him over to the servant. I give her shoulder a little shake, and she is immediately awake. I wordlessly hand her the infant, and the woman pulls out a generous, blue-veined breast. She puts the child to her nipple, stroking the side of his cheek with it. The baby turns his head to the nipple and takes it into his little rosebud mouth. He latches on and sucks for a minute or two and then releases the nipple. No amount of encouragement gets the baby to resume his feeding.
“Well, perhaps he wants to sleep a bit more. Let me change his swaddling bands, and I will give him back to his mother,” I say.
I take the little fellow to the sideboard and switch out his linens for dry ones. His hands and feet are most decidedly blue, and he doesn’t feel like a thriver. I am really worried, but I do not voice my concerns to the queen. I hand her back her son and then I go to wake up Faith. The queen gives us permission to go down to the kitchens and find some bread and ale to break our fast with.
“Would Your Majesty allow us to take a walk in the gardens after we have breakfasted?”
Katherine indicates her consent, and we proceed to the palace kitchens. After a quick meal, we go outside and take a leisurely walk in the pleasure gardens, admiring the vast array of artistically arranged plants and foliage. The air is crisp and sweet, and Faith and I stay outside for far longer than I had planned. When I see that the sun is climbing higher in the sky, I tell Faith it is time to go back to the queen and check in on her and the babe.
We approach the queen dozing in her bed with the tiny prince in her arms. The wet nurse has eaten and is wiping her mouth when we come in.
I whisper to Faith, “We need to see if the baby will eat. I don’t like the fact that he hasn’t woken up hungry.” I gently pick up the child and bring him over to the wet nurse. She repeats the same steps as before, and the child latches on and begins to suck.
A collective sigh of relief can be heard by all present. The babe continues to nurse and then stops, the nipple falling out of his open mouth. The nurse gently taps his cheek, but no response. She holds him up and gives him a shake.
“Stop that!” I shout and take the baby from his nurse, who though clearly offended, has the good sense to keep quiet.
Katherine awakens and asks, “What is it, Sarah?”
I don’t immediately answer her. I feel for a pulse at the top of the baby’s head and his neck. Nothing. No, no, no, no NOOOOO. I silently scream inside my head. Faith has gone to stand next to the queen and is saying something very quietly to her. I have to do the unfathomable now. I have to bring the queen her dead child. I bring the dead prince to his mother and lay him in her arms.
The queen puts her face next to his and begins to rock him gently to and fro. She is humming a lullaby with her eyes tightly shut. I motion to Faith to come away with me.
I lead my daughter over to a low, velvet-upholstered couch, and we sit. We sit in silence not saying a word while the queen rocks her dead baby and sings lullabies to him. This goes on for more than an hour until I finally decide I have to take action. I get up and approach the bed.
“Your Majesty, it is time to give me the prince. He must be prepared for burial.”
The queen smiles sweetly and says, “No, Sarah dear. This one I am going to keep.” As horrifying as this is, I have the presence of mind to understand that I have to deal with this with resolute firmness.
“No, Katherine. You may not keep him. He is in heaven already, playing with his brother and sister. He is no longer here with you, and you must give him to me, now.”
Katherine looks up at me with a pleading expression on her face. “No, Sarah, no. Please let me keep my baby.”
I sit down on the bed next to her and run my finger over the infant’s brow. “He was a lovely baby, wasn’t he? So sweet and gentle and kind, like you, Your Grace. You could just tell he was the sweetest little prince that God ever saw fit to live. But he has gone back to God now, Your Majesty. God has called this sweet, perfect prince back home. Perhaps he was so kind and gentle that God could not bear to be parted from him for more than a few short hours.”
Katherine begins to weep softly. I put my arm around her, and together, we admire the beautiful baby prince whose soul has been called back to heaven.
Brigitte Barnard is an amateur historian of Renaissance English history and an author of the trilogy The Tudor Queens' Midwife, of which the first book in the series is available. She is currently writing a non-fiction book about Tudor midwifery for Pen and Sword publishing house.
Brigitte is a former homebirth midwife, and she lives at home with her husband and four children. She also raises Cavalier King Charles spaniels.
