The Prophecy

by Sakwa, Kim

  As the days passed, she began taking short walks and joining the family for meals in the great hall. In the afternoons, she stayed in the library, or, if Greylen was working in his study, she sat there with him.

  It was on one of those afternoons as she sat on the window seat that his men presented him with a gift. They had gathered around the table and handed Greylen a wrapped package. He opened it and removed a jersey that they had one of the servants fashion. She learned later that Anna had refused to make it.

  It was a jersey, identical to the one she had made for him, but when he turned it to look at the back, he fixed them with a furious stare. His men were laughing so hard their hands beat on the tabletop.

  “What is it, Greylen?” she asked, puzzled by his reaction.

  He turned it for her to see. She laughed so hard tears rolled from her eyes.

  “You find this humorous?” he demanded, but he was smiling, too, and even laughed himself.

  The jersey had large white letters on the back, but it wasn’t his name that was sewn on it. No, it read Midwife.

  “They have a point, husband,” she choked out. “Now you’ll have something to wear for my next delivery.”

  “Nay.” He scoffed. “Gavin shall be the next,” he said, turning to his first-in-command. “You’ll wear it to deliver your own children.”

  “I still owe you a beating for setting such a precedent.”

  “Aye, you might, but Isabelle insists you be present.” Greylen grinned. “I relish the day.”

  Gwen had just ordered Isabelle to strict bed rest. By the beginning of her third month, Gwen informed them that Isabelle was carrying twins. It was easy to tell, even without her stethoscope, which confirmed the two heartbeats. Isabelle had been so overcome with nausea and fatigue, and she started to show very quickly. Isabelle was terrified after Gwen’s delivery, but Gwen assured her that she’d be fine. Gwen also offered Gavin’s assistance. He had no choice but to agree.

  Things became somewhat normal again. Greylen and his men saw to their summertime duties with enthusiasm, and Gwen began to exercise again. Her body was finally returning to normal and with her runs and sit-ups she felt better than ever. Greylen ran with her in the early mornings after she fed the baby. And now that Tristan was sleeping in the nursery with Anna, they left him in her care for the hour they were gone.

  They were so consumed with a new baby that their birthdays and anniversary had passed with little fanfare. But Greylen did commemorate both occasions. The first being their birthdays. The night he’d pulled her from the water one year ago.

  He took her to the shore and, since they only had an hour as Tristan was a few weeks old, Greylen had had everything prepared. There was a roaring fire when they arrived, and he held her between his legs as they shared the moment alone. Then he surprised her again, removing her iPhone and speaker he secretly tucked in a satchel. “I propose a new tradition, wife,” he said, holding her tightly.

  “Do I have to sing?” she teased, looking up.

  “God forbid.” Greylen laughed. “Although, when we’re sotted, ’tis not so bad.”

  “Get on with it, husband. What’s this new tradition?”

  “Since it’s my idea, I’ll be the first,” he said with a squeeze. “But I thought that every year we could each choose a song to dance to.”

  “I’m impressed,” Gwen exclaimed.

  “Shut up, Gwendolyn.” He laughed. “Join your husband.” He stood, leaving her for only a minute as he pressed buttons. Then he held her in his arms, moving her around the fire as he whispered the words of “I’ll Be” by Edwin McCain.

  For their anniversary, he surprised her with a special dinner in the great hall. His family and men were present, and Tristan joined them, passed between everyone as they took pleasure in the entire evening together. Gwen even enjoyed a small amount of wine for the first time in months. But she became so tipsy, Greylen had to carry her upstairs, teasing her as she giggled in his arms.

  They made love that night for the first time since Tristan’s birth. It couldn’t have been a more appropriate way to celebrate their anniversary, but when Greylen first entered her, she cried out in pain. He withdrew instantly, holding her tightly in his arms. “I’m sorry, love.”

  “Please, don’t stop.”

  “I won’t cause you pain, Gwen.”

  “It’s just this first time,” she promised. “Make love to me, Greylen.”

  He entered her again, slowly this time, and must have felt her wince. He lay motionless on top of her, his arms around her head as he looked to her. She could tell he wanted to stop and took his face in her hands. Then she whispered to him, words she knew would make him understand.

  They were the words he always whispered to her, the words inscribed on her wedding band and medallion. She understood them now and gave them back to him. The look he gave her was indescribable and one she would cherish for the rest of her life. Then he whispered back, “Tha thusa gu bràth mo ghràdh.” You are forever my love.

  Her husband made love to her so tenderly that night, loving her with his body as he never had before.

  Isabelle gave birth to two healthy babies before summer’s end. Her delivery was long, but she came through it easily. Gavin was, indeed, present, and Greylen insisted that he wear the jersey. He did begrudgingly, though Gwen was the one to deliver Gavin’s sons. Gavin sat by Isabelle, helping her through her labor, clearly wishing to be anywhere but at his wife’s side. Her pain was just too much it seemed for him to bear. Greylen knew exactly how he felt.

  Gwen had demanded that Gavin hold the first baby when he was born, and he did, watching in pure awe as the second was born. He cut their cords as Gwen instructed, crying like a babe as Greylen taunted. Gavin damned him for being right. But in the end, he admitted he was glad to have been there.

  His nephews, Ethan and Collin, kept their mother busy. In fact, they kept everyone busy. Three babies now occupied the women during the day and the men gladly helped, too, when they could.

  Greylen began to steal his wife away in the early afternoons so he could teach her to ride. He was so proud of her skills, he gifted her with a mare, prouder still when she insisted on caring for the animal herself. They rode together in the afternoons, and on the occasions that he couldn’t accompany her, she was allowed to ride alone, though one of his men always followed her from a distance.

  As Tristan’s feedings decreased, Gwen started boxing with Gavin. Greylen even took to it himself, incorporating it in routines with his men. ’Twas Gwen’s talk of marathons that intrigued him most, her constant teasing of her endurance that finally got the better

  of him.

  He watched her as she sat on the steps one morning, her eyes narrowing as his men raised flags along the path and later rode out with more secured to their mounts. Greylen joined her, taking Tristan from her arms and kissing his belly.

  “Greylen?”

  “Aye, wife,” he said, knowing exactly what was on her mind.

  “What are the men doing?”

  He heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. “They’re raising flags, love,” he replied, like she’d not understand his statement.

  “I know they’re raising flags,” she hissed. “Why?”

  “I’ve proposed a race.” He grinned, throwing Tristan in the air.

  “I’ve just fed him,” she cried. “He’ll spit up all over the place.”

  “Nay, he’ll be fine.”

  Gwen sighed; she obviously knew Tristan loved to be jostled by him. “Tell me of this race, husband.”

  “’Tis nothing really,” he teased.

  “You lie.” She laughed, swatting his arm.

  “Very well…if you must know…” He purposely didn’t finish.

  “Tell me!”

  He threw his head back and laughed. Tristan laughed with him. “I thought
to run one of your marathons,” he explained. “If you’re a good wife, and I use that term very loosely, I may let you join us.”

  “You may let me join you,” she said, standing, hands upon her hips now. “I’ll be joining your damn race. Wild horses couldn’t stop me.”

  “Tristan, your mama’s gifted us with yet another phrase from her sorry past.”

  “That happens to be a great phrase. Store it in your sorry memory bank.”

  Their banter was interrupted as riders approached. Greylen handed Tristan to Gwen and walked to the courtyard to greet them. They’d been escorted by Duncan and Ian. Greylen took a missive from one of the men’s outstretched hands and read it. Then exchanged words with the men as Gavin rode into the courtyard. Gavin dismounted and Greylen filled him in as they headed back toward Gwen.

  “What is it, Greylen?” Gwen asked as he stood before her.

  “Malcolm’s been captured. Our king awaits my presence to see justice done.”

  At first, she seemed relieved that he’d been caught, then she must have realized what he’d also said. She looked terrified. “I must go, Gwen. I’ll sail on the morrow. It should only be days,” he assured her, taking her hand. “A week at most.”

  His wife nodded but held Tristan more closely. He pulled them both into his arms. “Gavin and I have things to see to,” he told her. “Would you like me to take you upstairs?”

  “Nay,” she whispered. “I’ll see if Cook needs help before supper.”

  He and his men made their way to his study. There was much to see to before he left. As was their habit, they surrounded the table, standing as each took their orders. Greylen walked back and forth between the table and maps that covered the wall, marking the placement of his ships with colorful pins. The ones currently in their port and tagging the position of the others from the latest word they’d received.

  Greylen knew Gwen kept busy in the kitchen that afternoon. Later, he sensed her presence and when he glanced to the doorway, he found her standing there. He smiled and was about to wave her in, but she only smiled back and quickly walked away.

  They dined together in the great hall that night. Greylen knew his wife did her best to put forth a brave face, but she was clearly upset. He would try to ease her fears later, assuring her that they could at last live at peace. She’d need no further guards and the threat of Malcolm returning was finally over.

  They made love by the fire and again in their bed. He brought Tristan in from the nursery so Gwen could feed him. After taking him back to Anna, he gathered Gwen in his arms, pressing her back to his chest. “I’d have you come with me, Gwen,” he said.

  She turned. “You’d take me?” she asked.

  “’Tis what I just said,” he remarked dryly, though he smiled and hugged her closer.

  She shook her head. “Nay, just knowing you’d take me makes me feel better.”

  “Why’s that, love?”

  “If you feel that I’d be safe, then I know you’ll be safe too.”

  “How is it, wife, that ’tis I whom you always worry over?”

  “I know you’ll keep me safe, Greylen, you always have. You’ve never let me down, not once. It’s only natural that I feel the same.”

  Her thoughts were so sweet that he dared not laugh at her. But she had, indeed, saved his life before and he’d not belittle her offer of protection. “Gwen, you may move more freely now, but you must always let one of my men know where you’re going. Do you understand?”

  “Aye, husband, I understand. I can still run longer distances, though, can’t I? You still intend to hold the race?”

  “Aye, four weeks from today. We’ve already done two of the long runs you’ve talked of. You need only two more, right?”

  “Aye,” she said quickly, “I’ll have one of the men follow when I do, I promise.”

  “Save the last for me,” he whispered as he kissed her. “It’s fun to push you faster.”

  “You’re sick in the head, husband. Don’t think for a second that I’m not aware you do it purposely. But you’ve only made me faster, Greylen. In fact, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

  He did laugh at her boast that time. “I love you, Gwen.”

  “I love you, too, Greylen.”

  Greylen and Gavin sailed early the next morning. They left only Kevin and Hugh behind.

  Gwen missed Greylen terribly in the days that followed, but she kept busy and thankfully, the time passed quickly. She went for short runs in the morning and spent her days with Isabelle and the children. It was nice to have some time alone with her sister-in-law, and they took full advantage. Every night they ate decadent meals in her chamber, followed by girl talk in front of the fire.

  The fourth morning after Greylen’s departure, Gwen awoke earlier than usual and decided it would be the perfect morning to go for her long run. She fed Tristan right before she left, knowing that she had at least four or five hours before he would need her again. He’d just started eating solid foods—oatmeal and pureed fruits—and Anna gave him breakfast now in the great hall with Lady Madelyn.

  Greylen’s mother loved spending time with her grandson and watched him until his late-morning nap. Gwen gave Lady Madelyn this time alone, never bothering her unless she felt she’d burst from the pressure of not feeding him, or, as was often the case, her son became so fussy that Lady Madelyn had no choice but to seek her.

  When she left the keep, Alex stood just beyond the doors. He’d been promoted from the ranks of the soldiers and was now training to become one of her husband’s elite circle of men. He’d had her guard on many occasions and the seriousness with which he saw to his duties dubbed him the nickname Captain. Not that the term didn’t apply to others in Greylen’s ranks, but Gwen used the name affectionately with Alex. He was ruggedly handsome, quick with a smile, and even faster with a glare. And in her book, that meant he was in. Greylen seemed to have a penchant for surrounding himself with control freaks. Alex was no different.

  “Good morn, Captain,” she offered as she stood beside him.

  “Good morn, Lady Gwendolyn,” he returned. “Off for your morning run?”

  “Aye, I’ll most likely take my long one,” she told him. “I’ll not return for some time.”

  “Very well,” he acknowledged. “Kevin rides just beyond the lake,” he said, pointing in its direction, as if she didn’t know where it was. “Make sure you inform him of this before you continue from there.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” She saluted, hearing his chuckle as she headed down the stairs.

  Gwen smiled as she began her run. It was a perfect morning. The air was cool and crisp, and the sun was just high enough now that it warmed her face. She started thinking of what she and Isabelle might have for dinner, trying to recall what she’d seen in the pantry and cellar. She’d spent the last two days in the kitchen with Cook going over lists of appropriate foods and recipes for Tristan. It was the first time that Cook gave her “the look.” The one that claimed her daft. Feeling like a typical first-time mother, Gwen respectfully withdrew.

  She had finally come up with the perfect menu when she realized she passed the lake—way passed the lake. She couldn’t bring herself to turn around, and for the next hour hoped that no one realized she didn’t have a shadow. As long as Tristan didn’t get fussy, and Kevin stayed clear of Alex, they’d never know. And if they did—God help her—she was in deep trouble. And not just from Greylen. They would all kill her.

  She stayed close to the forest, seeking the stream, which was a few yards within, every so often. When she finished, she headed for water one last time. She felt beyond good. There was nothing better than a runner’s high. Her cheeks were hot, her legs felt like rubber, and she had to put her hands on her head to catch her breath. She was still kneeling over the stream when riders approached.

  She continued to drink, all the while breathless
ly explaining that she’d come clean to Greylen.

  Then she heard a laugh that chilled her to the very bone.

  Alex was atop the steps when Lady Madelyn came outside with Tristan on her hip. The poor lad was in a deep fit, and Alex reached out instantly to pat his back. “Good afternoon, Lady Madelyn,” he called out, trying to be heard over Tristan’s screams. He winced at the boy’s cry before he could continue. “What seems to be the problem with our boy?” he asked in concern.

  “Alex, has Lady Gwendolyn returned?”

  “Returned?” His hand stilled on the babe’s back. “She’s not come back with Kevin?”

  “Nay, Kevin’s in—”

  Alex was gone.

  “Sir,” Alex bellowed as he came into the study.

  “Aye, Alex,” Kevin said, looking up. “What troubles you?”

  “I had the morning guard outside the doors. I was replaced for an hour to oversee the training with Hugh and returned just now.”

  “Your point?” Kevin asked.

  “Lady Gwendolyn left early this morn. She was given my instruction to inform you of her desire to run the distance before leaving the area of the lake.”

  “I never spoke to her,” Kevin yelled, coming out of his chair. “Are you sure she’s not returned?”

  “Tristan should’ve been fed an hour ago, Kevin,” Lady Madelyn explained, having come in behind Alex.

  “Alex, round the men,” Kevin barked. “We’ll find her, Lady Madelyn,” he assured, coming to her side. “She’s probably just become lost or suffered a minor injury.” Both men knew she would have made it back in either case.

  “Find my daughter, Kevin,” she ordered. “Bring her home.”

  “Aye, lady.”