The Prophecy

by Sakwa, Kim

  Greylen and Gavin rolled their eyes, obviously listening with little interest as she and Isabelle ranted. Their insults were becoming more ludicrous by the second, and each scathing remark they made was belied with a hug as they gathered warmth from each other.

  “Can we get back to our game?” Greylen asked impatiently.

  “I told you this was all your fault, Gwendolyn,” Isabelle muttered. “You just had to make them football jerseys, didn’t you?”

  “If I recall,” Gwen said, casting Isabelle a smug look, “I made you something as well.” Isabelle blushed, obviously recalling the scandalous short nightgown she’d made for her. “Had I known you were pregnant,” Gwen said, then frowned. “I would have made it a little larger.” Isabelle had made the announcement of her pregnancy as they’d opened gifts, clarifying the reason she had made little booties for Gavin. You’d think he would have gotten the hint.

  Greylen was frowning at her now. “Yours had better be large enough, Gwendolyn,” he warned, speaking of the short nightgown she had made for herself. “I intend to see it on you tonight.”

  “Oh, you will,” Gwen promised, bringing a smile back to her husband’s face.

  “Can we go back to our game now?” Greylen asked again.

  “Go on,” Gwen said as she and Isabelle both shooed them away. “We’ll just freeze while we watch you play.” Their husbands didn’t seem too worried and, in fact, turned as soon as they heard the word go.

  Gwen and Isabelle huddled to keep warm as they watched the men resume their game. And lucky them, it started snowing. The men obviously didn’t mind and were soaked and covered in mud by the time they finished. Their smiles were priceless, though, and the only thing besides their eyes that remained white.

  After an early supper in the great hall, Isabelle and Gavin joined them in their chamber. They played cards by the fire and listened to music. It was a habit they began shortly after Gavin and Isabelle were married, and now they spent almost all of their evenings together.

  Later, Greylen helped her into the black nightgown she had made, stretching the material across her belly. After they made love, Greylen laid her between his thighs, her back against his chest. He covered her stomach with his hands, willing their son to kick.

  It became a nighttime ritual, lying together as they felt their baby move. In the beginning, it was a wonderful end to their days, but as the months passed and the baby grew, Gwen dreaded the movements.

  “I’m sorry, Gwen. I know it must be terribly uncomfortable.”

  “Terribly uncomfortable? Greylen, you have no idea.” She groaned as the baby turned again, feet and elbows poking her ribs. “He better come soon. He’s huge already.”

  “You said it should be four or five weeks.”

  “There’s really no way to know, Greylen. Some babies come early while others come late.”

  “And if he is too large?” Greylen asked, fear in his voice.

  “Greylen, we’ve been incredibly lucky,” she said truthfully. “We’ll come through this too.”

  “Gwendolyn, you’ve more knowledge than any of us in such matters. You must use it.” He squeezed her to enforce his point. “I’ll not lose you.”

  “Aye, in the throes of labor, I’ll remember that.” She laughed. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Greylen. Just make love to me. It’s the only thing that makes me feel good these days.” Gwen finished her statement with a disgruntled sigh.

  “That was a compliment you just gave your husband, wasn’t it?” he asked, skeptically.

  “Aye, ’twas a compliment and you know it.”

  Making love to her husband, actually her husband making love to her, was the best part of her day, though it was becoming more and more difficult to find a comfortable position.

  She knew Greylen felt the same, enjoying the intimacy they continued to share. He loved to find positions better suited to her current condition. He always seemed worried, however, that his lack of control, as he called it, when they made love, would hurt her or the baby.

  Gwen didn’t miss the look of unease that crossed Greylen’s face now. “Oh, good God, Greylen. Stop worrying and ravish your miserable wife.” Why he seemed shocked by her outburst escaped her. “I’m sorry, Greylen, please help me. I need to feel you inside me, please.”

  “You know I’ll make love to you, Gwen. And you can count on more than a mere ravishing. I have no control where you’re concerned.”

  Greylen lay on his side and pulled her against him, resting her leg over his hip. He calmed her with his kisses, calmed her with his hands, then entered her from the same position.

  Gwen tried to push against him, almost crying in frustration as another position bit the proverbial dust. She felt big and awkward, when all she wanted was to feel consumed.

  Greylen sensed her aggravation, fixing her distress by rolling her beneath him. He placed her on all fours and gave in to both their needs. His forceful thrusts penetrated so deep, they cried out in release only a minute later.

  “Bless you, husband,” Gwen said breathlessly as Greylen lay above her.

  Greylen chuckled in her ear, his head resting on the pillow next to hers. He felt their son turn as he held her stomach beneath them. “I fear ’tis a mixed blessing, Gwendolyn.”

  “After that, you’ve been elevated back to hero worship,” she said adoringly.

  “When had I joined the lower ranks?” he asked.

  “Never.” She giggled. “It just sounded good.” They remained as they were until their breathing returned to normal. Gwen suddenly became very serious. “You’ve always been my hero, Greylen, even when you weren’t there.”

  “I’ll always be your hero, Gwen, from now until forever.”

  Two weeks later, Greylen made true to his words. He was just returning from a successful hunt with his men when Ian rode to greet them at a breakneck pace. They’d barely halted their mounts, but Ian’s words nearly stopped his heart.

  “Gwendolyn calls. Her time is here. ’Tis not going well, Greylen.”

  His heart constricted as he spurred his black to the keep’s entrance, vaulting off the beast before he came to a complete stop. Though Gwen seemed fine this morning and insisted he join his men, he damned himself now for leaving. The keep’s doors were already open, and he could hear his wife’s distress as he raced up the stairs.

  Duncan paced in front of their chamber, holding his hand on the latch as Greylen looked to him for answers. “It sounds bleak,” Duncan told him. “All seemed fine till the last hour, then she called that we bring you as soon as possible. Lady Madelyn and Anna didn’t agree with your wife’s wishes, but we serve Lady Gwendolyn.”

  Duncan had ended his statement half in question and Greylen gave him the answer immediately. “Aye, ’tis Lady Gwendolyn whom you serve.”

  Greylen’s heart dropped as he entered their room. Gwen leaned upright against the pillows, her eyes closed, her hair damp and clinging to her face. Isabelle sat beside Gwen, wiping her forehead while his mother and Anna sat between her legs.

  “You have to pull him…please,” Gwen begged, her voice taxed with exhaustion. “It’s been too long.” Her shoulders started shaking, and she pleaded with them again. “I need, Greylen, please, please.”

  Greylen rushed to her side and placed his hand on her face as he sat. She opened her eyes. “Greylen, help me. They won’t listen.”

  “Tell me what to do, Gwen,” he said. His words were firm, assuring her that he’d do anything in his power to help.

  “You need to guide the baby’s head out. You have to pull—” Her fingers dug into his skin as she grabbed his wrists, and it took all his abilities to remain in control as he watched her suffer. Then her grip relaxed as the pain seemed to subside.

  He heard his mother speak quietly to Anna. “Nothing, he’s not moved.”

  Gwen look
ed to him again. “He won’t come, Greylen, I don’t know if the cord is around his neck. I…I can’t do it. He could die, help us—please, help us.”

  Greylen squeezed her hands before standing again. He’d been present and helped with countless births throughout his life. A child, however, was never one of them. Women always saw to such duties, yet for Gwen to call for him, he knew ’twas only his help she wanted. Determined to do just that, he washed his hands in a basin of fresh water. Then fixed his mother and Anna with a look of pure outrage. “MOVE.”

  They stood instantly, giving him space as he sat on the bed and placed a hand on Gwen’s knee. She tried with all her might to push their babe free. Isabelle held her shoulders, forcing her to sit upright as his mother and Anna pleaded with Gwen to push. Her attempts were futile. The babe hadn’t moved. Gwen started crying again. “I can’t do it, Greylen. Pull him—you have to.”

  He knew now what she asked of him and looked to her one last time, waiting for her acknowledgment. When she nodded, he didn’t hesitate. He’d be damned if he didn’t do everything he could to help her, even this. He tried to be gentle as he pushed his fingers around the babe’s head, yet his wife’s cry said otherwise. She caught her breath and nodded again.

  “Put your other hand on my stomach, and when you feel it tighten, pull.”

  Her next pain came only a minute later. He could feel the tightening she spoke of. His palm hid the babe from his view, but he felt his tiny head between his fingers, his soft skull covered with slick hair. He pulled with the greatest of care as Gwen bore down, then moved his hand from her stomach to catch the baby’s head.

  Bless her heart, ’twas all the help she needed. His son’s head lay in the palm of his hand. “Oh God, Gwen.” ’Twasn’t even a whisper, and for all he knew the words never came from his lips. But when he looked to her again, awe turned to terror. Her skin was so pale and she was—“Gwendolyn, noooo!” Her eyes rolled back and her body went slack. “GWENDOLYN!”

  His mother held her hands on Gwen’s stomach, as Anna brushed a cloth over her face. Isabelle was crying now, watching helplessly as another cry ripped from his heart. “Gwendolyn!”

  Gwen’s eyes fluttered open as his mother instructed him. “Greylen, you need to guide his shoulders.”

  Still holding the babe’s head in the palm of his hand, he helped free one shoulder and then the other. He placed his hand beneath the baby’s back and continued to pull with the greatest of care. His shoulders racked as he gently squeezed his fingers around his son. Then his head fell back when his son began to wail. “Gwen, we have a son!” He looked to her, tears running down his face as he stared in wonder between the babe in his hands and his crying wife.

  “Put the babe on her chest while we see to the afterbirth,” his mother instructed.

  He shot her a look, holding the baby closer. “Why didn’t you help her?”

  “Greylen, we were just about to, I swear to you. We only wished to avoid causing her more pain.”

  Greylen said nothing, still angered that Gwen might have suffered more than necessary, or worse, that she could have died had he not gotten there in time. He carefully moved his son, noticing now that Gwen was reaching out to hold him. He placed him in her hands and covered them with his own. He didn’t let go until their babe rested on Gwen’s chest.

  He sat beside her and pushed the hair off her face, then bent to kiss her. They both cried again, tears of joy and relief.

  “Thank you, Greylen,” she whispered as he rested his forehead against hers.

  “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” His voice shook, belying the angry undertone of his words.

  “I love you too,” she said. “I’m so glad you came, Greylen. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  Tears still ran down her face and he brushed them away. “I’ll always be there, Gwen, always. I thought I’d lost you.”

  “I’m sorry, Greylen. I’m so tired. I’m just so tired.”

  Her body slackened again, and he quickly reached out to hold the babe against his wife’s chest. “Gwen? Gwen?”

  Her eyes opened slowly, then she placed her hand on his cheek. “Shh, it’s okay, Greylen. Cut the cord,” she whispered. “You have to cut the cord now.”

  Greylen followed his mother’s directions, then reached for the babe again. “I’ll wash him and bring him right back,” he told Gwen as she nodded and closed her eyes.

  Isabelle helped him clean his son, his tiny fists smacking the air in anger. “Mother would’ve helped her, Greylen. She meant what she said.”

  Greylen had no desire to speak of it anymore and, now, in the aftermath, he was glad Gwen had called for him. “Isabelle, I delivered my own son,” Greylen said softly, as if ’twas a secret he was sharing with her.

  “Aye, and you did it very well too,” Isabelle said admiringly.

  Greylen couldn’t keep his hands from his son and reached for him again. “Give me a minute,” Isabelle balked. “You’ll have him the entire night.”

  Isabelle wrapped him in a blanket and rocked him in the crook of her arm. She passed him back into his impatient hands. “He’s so beautiful, Greylen.”

  When Greylen turned again, his mother and Anna were just finishing with Gwen. The sheets had been changed and her body washed. She looked exhausted as she faced him, but she motioned with her hands for him to come back. He placed the babe upon her chest again and called for a much-needed bath.

  “Let me take a quick wash, then I’ll come stay with you.”

  She nodded and held her hands around their son’s back. He smiled before leaving her, hearing the soft mewing sounds his son made in his sleep.

  Greylen sat in the tub within the bathing chamber, his head against the rim. He’d been so consumed with helping Gwen and listening to instructions, he’d merely followed orders. No questions, no hesitation. Now, however, the results of his actions were astounding. Not only was he present for the birth of his first child, he’d been the one to deliver him. He delivered his own son. He started laughing as the words repeated in his head. He’d delivered his own son.

  He grabbed his robe, anxious to join his family on their bed. His family: Gwendolyn and their babe. He wanted to shout from the top of a mountain, his joy was so great.

  He finally lay next to them, grateful to see the color back in Gwen’s face. “Are you comfortable, love?” he asked.

  “Nay.” She laughed as she brushed one of her hands over Greylen’s face. “Hold the baby while I sit up. He needs to be fed.” Greylen helped her sit instead, letting her hold the babe while he adjusted her. He took the babe and laid him between his legs. “Open the blanket, Greylen. I want to see him again.”

  “’Tis what I’m doing,” he said with a grin. “You’ve not had a chance to really look at him.”

  They stroked his little body, counting his fingers and toes. They laughed as the baby latched on to Greylen’s finger. They finally wrapped him again and Greylen watched in awe as Gwen nursed him for the first time. Then he helped her change and swaddle him again.

  He lost track of how many times they kissed him, of how many times they kissed each other, as the babe lay between them.

  A cradle sat beside their bed, but they’d not place him in it. Anna now slept in the chamber next to theirs, a complete nursery. Their babe wouldn’t see it for days, mayhap even weeks.

  “Gwen?”

  “Aye, Greylen?”

  “You wish to name him Tristan, don’t you?”

  “We can name him whatever you want, Greylen. He wouldn’t be here without you.”

  “’Tis Tristan then. Tristan Allister MacGreggor.”

  “Tristan Allister MacGreggor,” she said, looking down at their son, “this is your daddy.” Then she looked back to Greylen, taking his face in her hand. “My hero.”

  Tristan Allister MacGreggor was
christened on a warm summer day. Gwen basked in the joy she felt from Greylen, who stood proudly by her side, Gavin and Isabelle next to them as they held their godson.

  The weeks that followed Tristan’s birth created a bond between Gwen and Greylen that astounded them both. From that first night Tristan lay between them—in the aftermath of his birth and everything that had happened throughout the previous year—they now had a child they created together. Their love could not have been stronger.

  Tristan stayed in their chamber every night, in the cradle beside their bed. Greylen would always pick him up and hold him before handing him off so she could nurse him. He was a very large boy and it was no wonder she’d had such a hard time delivering him. Her husband told her he considered having no more for fear that she’d not make it through another, but Gwen only laughed, assuring him that the next would most likely fall out. He seemed appalled at her words, but finally laughed with her. He wasn’t fooling her, though, she sensed he secretly considered leaving Tristan an only child rather than watch her suffer again.

  Gwen wasn’t scared at all of having more children, and in fact, her strength returned quickly. Lady Madelyn took over her duties of seeing to the keep and, other than nursing their son, Gwen really didn’t have any responsibilities. Anna always kept her chamber in impeccable order and there were so many helping hands she was actually quite rested, despite waking every two hours to feed her demanding son.

  Three nights after Tristan’s birth, she awoke alone. She looked throughout the room cast in a glow of firelight, but Greylen and Tristan were nowhere to be seen.

  She wasn’t sure why she got out of bed and walked to the window, but something compelled her. The full moon shone brightly that night and she saw him immediately, her husband standing on the cliff’s edge. His dark hair blew in the breeze, his arms stretched toward the sky. Their son in the palms of his hands, as if showing him to the gods.

  It was a sight she would always remember. She stepped back as he turned, leaving this moment just for him. He returned a short time later and placed Tristan back in his cradle before joining her. Then he pulled her in his arms as she pretended to sleep. She listened to his Gaelic whispers, understanding everything he said. He thanked the gods for her and his son and he vowed to love and protect them for all eternity.