| Prologe |

"- Blessed be His fruit! - says the customary form of greeting.

- May the Lord ripen it! - I reply in the usual way."

(Excerpt - Margaret Atwood: The Handmaid's Tale)

Father Armand prayed in the church that night.

He prayed to God, apologizing for not being able to convince the people that war should be declared, but there were still deaths. Three hundred Soldiers, Armed and Blessed have lost their lives since morning.

But the problem was that it was not only the fallen soldiers who needed to be prayed for.

He glanced to the side, the candles illuminating Charlotte Eiro's sweat-drop-covered face. She went into labour.

A child born in war was bad luck for the town of Timberland, or so the folks always said. Old women used to black out to save their husbands. A child born in war claims the life of an old man, and so the rebirth takes place.

Charlotte's loud moaning was drowned out by the bloody fighting outside. It gave her a chance to scream, to cry out, to beg God, at least to see the child's face. Everyone knew she was going to die in childbirth, they told her to abort the child, but Charlotte said no, for the first time, to the onslaught of the people.

"What do you think, Father? Is it a boy or a girl?"

"If you eaten enough rice, it's a girl."

Charlotte smiled.

"I want a boy."

"Why?"

"The boys are luckier in Timberland City." - She looks towards the benches. Her blue eyes reflect the candle flame. "If it's a boy, he can be anything he wants to be, a mason, a farmer..."

"What name do you want for him?" the priest makes the sign of the cross, crawls closer to Charlotte.

Charlotte shrugs.

"I'd definitely name them after my favourite novels. I loved to read, you know that, and it was forbidden."

"What was your favourite novel?" Father Armand unwrapped the cloth, gently running the cold water over Charlotte's forehead and cheeks.

"There were two," she closes her eyes. "One is Lottie. Kästner's novel. I'd give it to the little girl" - she smiles - "A wonderful name. The other is Candide by Voltarie."

She would have told me more if she hadn't been breathless.

The father looked up at the silence.

Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut and began to scream. The baby would be born in a few minutes.

It was the first time Father Armand had seen a birth. He shouldn't have, but he saved Charlotte Eiro when their house was destroyed by an enemy soldier. Her husband asked her to take care of him and to employ him if necessary.

What is painful to say pokes at Father Armand's mind like an iron at a fire.

Time passed slowly, the pain intensified. With each contraction, Charlotte felt closer to the moment that was the miracle of birth.

Charlotte's face was contorted with exhaustion and pain. There was a glimmer of hope in her eyes, a calamity of fear. Pain brought tears to her eyes.

Then she heard Candide cry.