Mary was on the table in the medics’ tent awaiting Gregor and Illara. Her water had broken that afternoon, and she’d spent the past hours in prolonged labour. She wasn’t due for another week, so she told Gregor to go along with the other hunters that morning. Illara went with him, she was always more interested in the men’s duties than that of her mother and the women of the village. The doctor was doing his best to keep her calm and help her along but for whatever reason the baby was no closer to being delivered than when she first came rushing into his tent hours earlier. It would soon become dangerous for both mother and baby. If Mary couldn’t deliver it naturally, the doctor’s only other option would be to cut it out and risk Mary dying of shock or blood loss. There was a whole audience waiting outside in the pouring rain for news, Mary being the matriarch of the village made this a day of celebration, and everyone was anxious to meet the newest member of their little community. For it wasn’t a big village, it was rather small compared to most, with only a little over two hundred inhabitants. They were a simple people, and their clothes and architecture reflected that fact, simple wood and dung houses, and leather tents kept them warm in the unforgiving climate. Nearby woods kept them well fed on deer and boar with the occasional cod and trout from the river flowed just south of them. For the most part they were content with their lot, and out of the way of the trouble of the larger world, but that was all about to change.

The doctor dabbed Mary’s temple with a cool wet cloth, she had a fever and the contractions were only getting worse with no end in sight. She grabbed the doctor’s wrist and made him promise that he make sure her son live, “you do what you must to me, but make sure he’s alright.” The doctor assured her that they still had plenty of time before would have to resort to any extreme measures, “I can always tell when you are lying, Albert,” she smiled despite the pain, “now promise me you will do as I ask.” He put his hand over hers and promised that if it came to that, he would do what was necessary to ensure the child’s survival.

As Mary was having another contraction young Isabelle came running into the tent and told them that the hunting party was back. Not a moment later Gregor came rushing in soaked through to the bone in his furs, followed closely by Illara. He went to Marys’ side and took her hand in his before giving her a kiss, “I’m so sorry I haven’t been here, my love, if I had known sooner- “

“You haven’t missed anything, I’m just happy you are both here,” Mary said soothingly as she beckoned Illara to come over as well. Illara came to the other side to take hold of her mother’s other hand. She asked Illara if she caught anything, but Illara was preoccupied with the state of her mother to reply, Mary saw this and tried to calm her daughter’s fears, “don’t worry, my dear, the good doctor and I have got everything under control, haven’t we?” She looked over Gregor’s shoulder for the doctor to back her up. He smiled at Illara and assured her that everything would be fine. He then quickly turned to his worktable and started crushing some herbs together before mixing it with some warm wine. He returned to Mary and told her to drink it all, telling her it would help move things along. Gregor supported her back and she drunk it all in two large gulps before laying back down. He told them it would take a minute for it to take effect and left them to have some privacy while he prepared some surgical equipment. Mary was caressing Illara’s hair and humming a lullaby that she used to sing to her when she was a baby. “Do you want to hear something exciting, buttercup?” Mary asked her as she began to get drowsy. “Sure, what is it?”

“Well, while you and your father were away Albert told me that he thinks it’s going to be a boy. How does that sound, eh? You’re going to have a little brother.”

This perked Illara up. “Are you sure, we’re having a boy?” Gregor said giddily at the thought, Mary said the doctor was almost certain of it. He caressed her cheeks and leaned in to kiss her before going over to Illara and giving her a kiss on the temple, “a little brother, eh,” she was smiling so much, her cheeks were red from excitement. When they looked back at Mary, she was starting to dose off, Gregor shouted for the doctor to come back. He was back through and tending to her in an instant. He checked Mary’s breathing and her eyes to make sure she was asleep before preparing his tools. Gregor saw that he had several knives on the table and demanded to know what was happening. The doctor pulled him out of Illara’s hearing and spoke low, “there’s been complications, and if we don’t act now then Mary and the baby won’t make it.”

“What kind of complications, what’s wrong?” Gregor asked in an equally low shaky voice, with fear marking his every word.

“She’s been unable to deliver naturally, and at this point if we don’t get the baby out now then he’s likely to suffocate, and we’ll be forced to cut him out anyway.”

“But what about Mary, what happens to her?”

“If I can get the baby out quick enough then there’s every chance that I’ll be able to stop the bleeding in time, but if we wait any longer then neither will survive. Mary knew this was a possibility and she made me promise to make sure the baby lives.”

Gregor looked back at Mary asleep for a second, struggling to decide what he should do, what could he do. Was there some way that she could live if the baby died? The thought turned his stomach but what else could he do. The doctor placing his hand on Gregor’s shoulder brought him out of his state of thought, “alright, do what you can for them.”

“You should take her outside,” the doctor said, motioning to Illara stroking her mother’s hair, Gregor nodded. He went to her and told her that the doctor needed privacy to start the operation and after some reluctance she agreed and went out with her father. The doctor closed the tent and began making the incision. Mary began to come round as the doctor pulled the blood covered baby out of her. The first noise she heard was the screams of a newborn. She smiled and let out a tear of joy as the doctor cut umbilical cord. “It’s a boy,” he said as he cleaned him with a damp cloth and wrapped him up in fur before handing him over to his mother. She clung tightly to him, he was perfect. The doctor placed his tools to the side to be cleaned later and as he wiped his hands the sound of a disturbance outside drew the attention of him and Mary.

After a moment of silence, the piercing sound of people screaming and swords clashing rang through the tent. Mary looked over to the doctor expectedly. He took a scalpel in hand and made his way to the tent’s entrance when Gregor came running in with Illara in tow. He told them to douse the torches and keep quiet. Illara went to her mother’s side and put her arms around her and her new brother. The doctor put out each torch as fast as possible while Gregor stood by the entrance with an axe in hand, all the while the noise of what was happening outside was present. Mary did her best to sooth the baby to not draw attention to them, and with Illara’s help she managed to keep him quiet. For a moment they believed the carnage might just pass through without noticing them, but as quick as the thought entered their heads was it cast out. It started as the movement of the leather covering the entrance began to move as a hand became visible. It pulled the leather to the side to reveal a bearded brute with a half-broken sword. The instant he saw them inside he began to charge only to be swiftly halted and cut down by Gregor. He split his skull open as he fell just to make sure he wouldn’t rise again. As Gregor pulled the axe from the man’s head another came rushing in from the dark of night and plunged his sword through Gregor’s chest before he could react. Mary and Illara screamed in horror as Gregor fell to his knees, he took one look back at his family before tumbling over on his side. The growling savage pulled his sword from Gregor's lifeless body and began making his way over to Mary and Illara, having not yet noticed the doctor to his side. The doctor did what he could and slashed at the man who stood twice his size, but his scalpel barely cut through the furs. The man backhanded the doctor and as he stumbled back to his tools table, he stabbed him in the belly and left him to slouch down to the ground as he turned back to Mary. She was shaking from the shock of everything and from just giving birth. In desperation she told Illara to run. Her daughter did as her mother asked but as she reached the outside, she was grabbed and pushed back inside by an equally ugly and bearded savage looking man with a knife at her throat. Mary reached out her hand to her daughter as she screamed for her mother’s help. Their pleas fell on deaf ears. The man slit the knife from ear to ear and let go of Illara as she clutched her neck and reached out for her mother’s hand. She perished before reaching her. Mary laid back holding tightly onto the only family she had left and wept. As the men moved closer to her, she kissed her sons head and whispered how sorry she for all he would never get to experience. She looked up to the man that had just killed her daughter as a final defiance. He seemed to enjoy her attempt to remain strong as a smile crept across his face shortly before a blade came stabbing through it, ripping through his nose, and teeth several teeth flying. The man froze at that moment before being kicked to the ground from behind by a man wearing expertly made brown leather with a yellow sigil with a pattern that she couldn’t make out in the dark. With sword in-hand, he moved to the next man, parrying his attack before slashing across his stomach, parrying another wild attack and then with both hand, stabbing deep into the man’s chest. He pulled the sword out as the man fell, put it in its scabbard to his side as he went to check on Mary. She was extremely feverish and breathing rapidly, barely managing to hold onto the baby. “Are you alright, miss?” the man said when he reached her. Mary began shaking and was unable to answer. The man shouted for someone named Collin from outside, after no reply he shouted louder. Collin came crashing in, sword in hand, expecting to find resistance only to see Mary in-shock in the middle of the tent. He ran over to her, dropping his sword close-by, and got to work trying to figure out what was wrong with her. He took the baby from her, as he was very liable to be dropped, and handed to the man on the other side of the table, calling him Caleb. He then checked her pupils for dilation with no response and then her heartbeat which was racing. He then went and looked to where she had just given birth, that’s when he saw that she was bleeding massively. He told Caleb that she was beyond saving, “what are we supposed to do, put her out of her misery?” Caleb asked as he cradled the baby.

 “No, she’ll be gone in a minute. Best to just leave her be. She’s no longer aware of any pain or those around her. What are we going to do about the baby?”

“We’ll take him and drop him off with a family on the way back, it happens all the time. Though they’re not usual so new.”

As they got ready to leave Mary grabbed Caleb by the arm and struggled to tell him something, he leaned in close to better hear her. She managed to repeat herself one last time before tilting her head back and going still. Collin asked Caleb what she said as they made their way out the tent and through the village, “she said ‘thank you.’”

They walked over to where the rest of the men were grouped to listen to the commander talking atop his horse. “We scattered the woodsmen back into the forest, their numbers are low and they’re on foot. I need five volunteers to go and run them down. The rest of us will gather the dead and set pyre, put them to rest along with the village. These weren’t fighters, they were unprepared. It doesn’t appear that there were any survivors.”

Caleb spoke up to correct the commander, “There is one, commander,” he walked through the crowd to show the commander the boy wrapped in furs. “He may have just barely been born, but nevertheless here he is.”

“Isn’t that a sight,” the commander said with a pained smile at the sight of the newborn. “Caleb, find him something to eat, we’ll bring him to Strenven on the way home.”

“Yes commander.”

The volunteer’s set out to gallop after the remaining woodsmen and the rest of the men, save Caleb, got to work on gathering the dead and setting them on a pyre using the wood from the houses. At dawn the flames were lit, and the commander said a prayer for the dead to help grant them to peace. After the riders returned with the news that the fleeing woodsmen were cut down, they gathered their supplies and made for home.

It was a day’s ride detour to Strenven, only the commander and his lieutenant made the stop to drop off the boy. The town’s Patriarch Garret and his wife were good friends with the commander and took the boy off his hands to raise as their own. That night while sitting by the fire holding the boy in their arms they decided on a name. He was thereafter named after the first son of Lazarus the Resurrection God, whose name was Gabriel.