It was after the second month of winter had passed when Arishat noticed her womb had not bled on time. Nor did it bleed after the third month, when the snow that smothered the world outside had begun to melt at last. As if that did not give her enough of a sign, her belly had begun to swell by that point. It was a subtle rise at first, one that Isceradin had blamed on her growing appetite, but then how to account for the swelling of her breasts as well?
Yet another month went by. With the land warming as the days stretched longer, the snow had all but disappeared, and the once denuded trees of the forest beyond the outer palisade were sprouting a new generation of green leaves. Many of the settlers had taken to the fields to plant their crops, figuring out that over in Atlantis, it was better to plant in the spring than in the fall.
Still, Arishat’s womb did not bleed on time. There could be no longer any doubt.
Now she was at her loom again, weaving not for herself or for anyone else, but for the new life she would bring into the world. It was a blanket of violet wool, spotted with red diamond patterns arranged in the Inu’naabe way, in which she would cradle the upcoming child.
“Do you think it will be a boy or a girl, Amma?” Nikkal asked,
“I will love them no matter what,” Arishat answered. “But I am hoping for a boy this time, since we already have a girl.”
Nikkal frowned. “Ugh, boys are icky.”
“They say the same thing about us girls, believe me. And, even if it is a boy, you’ll come to love him just the same. Won’t you, my daughter?”
“You know, there are boys who grow up wanting to be women,” Isceradin said while he whittled away at another piece of wood. “And girls who grow up wanting to be men. What would you do if that happens to our child, Arishat?”
“Oh, that’s very rare,” Arishat said. “But I believe a child deserves love no matter how they feel about their sex.”
“So do I, but I personally wouldn’t be too happy if we had a boy and he turned into a woman. Means I won’t be able to teach them manly things when they came of age.”
“But what if it’s a girl who grows up into a man, Abba?” Nikkal asked.
Isceradin paused in the mid-stroke of his knife. “Well, they might feel like a man, but they’d still have a woman’s frail body. So they couldn’t do as much as someone with a man’s body.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, my love,” Arishat said. “Again, it’s very rare for that to happen. But, if it does, you will accept who they turn out to be, won’t you?”
“You’re right, I should accept them no matter what. But, to tell you the truth, that isn’t my biggest concern at the moment. No matter how the child grows up, I worry that I won’t ever be there to see them for myself. You know I’ll be away at war starting this summer.”
“You survived all those years fighting under Hannibal. I’m sure you’ll survive under Malchus. Those Shaawanaki can’t be any more formidable than the Romans, can they?”
“That’s the thing, we don’t know how formidable they are. We don’t know what weapons they might wield, or even their numbers. They could annihilate our entire force for all we know. I could descended into the pits of Sheol before I ever get to see my next child.”
“And I could die giving birth to them, as do so many mothers out there. You can only worry yourself so much about the future, my dear husband. Let the gods take care of it, and do your best to survive on the battlefield.”
Isceradin went back to whittling until the block of wood he had been working with transformed into the likeness of a Carthaginian soldier with falcata and oval shield. After scrubbing it smooth with a sheet of dogfish skin, he held it up his newest creation with a proud smile and then placed it in Arishat’s hand.
“Even if I do not come back alive, I want you to give this to the new child,” he said. “Show them what kind of man their father is, or was.”
Arishat rotated the little figurine in her hand. “It does look rather like you. It even has your nose!”
“And his hair,” Nikkal said as she touched its head with her fingertip.
Isceradin ran his hand over his hair with a preening smile. “That resemblance may or may not have been intended.”
There was a hard rap on the door. Isceradin opened it to reveal Phameas again.
“Malchus sent for you this time. He wants you to talk the Inu’naabe into joining us on the campaign.”
“Is he sure they can field enough men?” Isceradin asked.
“He says we need all the men we can recruit, especially after that winter.”
“But I thought we would receive a shipment of reinforcements from the homeland soon?” Arishat said.
Phameas nodded. “Never hurts to have even more. And I wouldn’t dawdle around questioning Malchus if I were you.”
“Fair enough,” Isceradin said. He went back to the living room to give Arishat and Nikkal each a kiss. “It’s back to the village once more.”