infusion with leaves of red raspberry was prepared.
“Drink some, it will help to make your labor shorter,” explained Morning Dew. But the contractions were still too far apart. That infusion had always worked for the women of her tribe as they were giving birth, but it seemed to have no effect on her.
“Do you feel like walking?” her mother asked her.
“Yes, yes,” she answered, not completely convinced.
"You must walk, that way the birth will be quicker," she explained. While Morning Dew and Blue Star prepared everything that was needed, Forest Flower walked outside the hut, between contractions, as the sun rose compltely.
Great Eagle woke and when he noticed that his wife wasn’t there, rushed out of the tepee. He saw her walking slowly, then suddenly freeze with her torso bent forward, moaning in pain.
“Forest Flower!” he called, running to her. He put one arm around her back to support her, and offered her the other to lean on.
"I must walk," she said as soon as she caught her breath.
"All right! We’ll do it together," Great Eagle offered, concerned.
They walked for more than an hour. The contractions were becoming more frequent and she wanted to scream each time, but she restrained herself and uttered only a suffocated lament, so as not to frighten her husband. But he felt how much she suffered, because her hand squeezed his arm so hard. The force of her grip matched the pain she was feeling. Until she finally let go.
"It’s time, take me inside," she said, breathless.
Great Eagle entrusted her to the expert hands of his mother-in-law and the aunt. They lay her down on the soft bed as her mother explained how to breathe to relieve the pain a little. But the pain became more and more intense and excruxiating, her breathing increasingly labored. The two women helped her get onto her knees, she was soaking with sweat and at the height of the pain she arched her back and let out a cry that was heard throughout the camp. Then everything was over in an instant. The baby was born. When she saw her small creature, the labor seemed like a distant memory to her, all the pain had already been forgotten.
After the umbilical cord had been cut, they gave her another root-based infusion which the Natives called the "root of birth", because it stopped the bleeding caused by childbirth. While Forest Flower took small sips, the two women took care of the newborn girl.
They washed the baby and the little body was rubbed with aromatic herbs and greased with a mixture of fat and red clay. They wrapped her in soft skins and laid her in the crib. The umbilical cord was entrusted to the grandmother, who wrapped it in sage leaves, placed it carefully in a small leather bag decorated with natural pigments and hung it on the outside of the cradle. This amulet would accompany her throughout her life and beyond.
At the moment of her birth a falcon flew across the camp and, kissed by the sun, it looked as if it were golden. The newborn’s first wail was joined by a long powerful howl coming from the sacred rocks that stood not far away, behind them. Great Eagle and the rest of the tribe watched its flight as it went towards another figure standing there motionless, looking in their direction: it was a wolf. When the falcon reached him, they both disappeared beyond the rocks.
The Shaman prophesied:
"This falcon has flown beyond the confines of our mountains. Towards that wolf, the pioneer, the free spirit of nature intact and wild... " the man stopped suddenly, Morning Dew had come out with the news of the birth.
"You can go in and meet your daughter!" the woman announced. Great Eagle entered the hut, he was excited and the sight of that little creature filled his heart with such great joy that it gushed from his eyes too. He waited for the women to go out, then took the little girl in his arms and told his wife about the flight of that falcon at the moment of her birth.
"I think Great Spirit has suggested her name to you, Golden Falcon is perfect for the daughter of a great chief," Forest Flower approved.
"Let the Great Spirit’s will be done!" he said satisfied. He knelt down next to his wife and handed the little girl to her so that she could suckle her. As he stood there watching his daughter's first meal he thought there could be nothing more wonderful than the sight of a mother breastfeeding her child.
Four days after Golden Falcon's birth, the naming ceremony was organized. No-one knew it yet. Forest Flower sprinkled the baby’s face with sacred white cornflour, then wrapped her in the most beautiful blanket and together with Great Eagle took her outside for the first time to present her to the rising sun and to the tribe. The birth of a child was always welcomed with great joy, as the most precious of gifts. A child did not belong only to its family, but to the whole tribe.
At dawn that morning Great Eagle spoke.
"Great Spirit sent his messenger who crossed our camp in flight." He took the little girl in his hands and raised her to heaven, proclaiming her name.
"Her name is Golden Falcon. Great Spirit gives this daughter the qualities of the falcon, so that she may grow courageous and strong, generous and selfless."
The blows of the drums echoed in the air, and the Shaman sang a sacred song with the entire tribe adding their voices, and accompanying the words with the sacred dance.
1 Chapter 3
Eight winters after Ulfr's birth, in addition to his blood sister Isgred, a new member of the family was added: Thorald, of the same age, who was the son of Harald, Jarl of the nearby village of Oseberg (t/n The earl/jarl is usually seen as a chieftain of a particular territory – souce: Wikipedia).
There had been a very strong bond between the two clans for generations. Following the loss of his wife Sigrid, who had died along with their second child during its birth, Harald was a shattered man. He decided to entrust the education and training of his only son to the family of his great friend King Olaf and his wife Herja, for a few years.
The couple looked at their friend worried. Harald was a handsome man in his 30s, but the pain of the terrible loss was visible in his face, which was strained and tired and made him look much older. Olaf rested a hand on the man's shoulder.
"Be strong, my friend! Don't worry about Thorald, he'll be fine here, we'll take care of everything," he tried to hearten him.
"I'm sure of it!" affirmed the man, in a tone of voice that did not reveal the despondency that, instead, he was feeling. Harald looked at his son, sitting by his side, his head bent and his eyes fixed on his little hands. Harald’s heart skipped a beat and he stroked his hair. The child raised his head and looked up at his father, clenching his young lips so as not to cry.
Herja took two receptacles made from natural cow horns and decorated with engravings and gold plating. She filled them with mead and handed them to the two men, then turned to Thorald.
"Come on!" she urged him, with the sweetness of a mother, holding out her hand, "Ulfr is waiting for you."
The child turned to the father who nodded his head. "It's going to be alright," he reassured him, forcing himself to appear serene. Thorald took Herja's hand and they crossed the room together, but before leaving, the child turned to his father again and smiled at him, as if to reassure him in turn.
Olaf waited until they had gone out and then raised his horn, imitated by Harald.
"Let's
