The rain fell intermittently all morning. Just before noon, the cloud cover began to break over the mountains; patches of sky became visible. Llewelyn at last humored his ten-year-old daughter, agreed to Gwladys's pleas that he allow the cooks to prepare a meal for him. He was making desultory conversation with Adda and Richard, relating how Maelgwn razed three of his own castles in Ceredigion rather than have them fall into hostile hands, when Branwen appeared without warning in the doorway of the hall. Her hair was falling about her face in wind-whipped disarray, her gown mud-stained to the knees, and when Llewelyn reached her, he saw that her eyes were filling with tears. "The baby will not come," she whispered. "We do not know what glse to do, my lord. We've massaged her belly and anointed her private parts with hot thyme oil, laid agrimony root across her womb, given her °ark of cassia fistula in wine, even given her pepper to make her sneeze. Jhe pains are coming very quick now, very sharp, but the babe is no nearer to delivery than it was three hours ago. My lord . . . she cannot
290 go on like this much longer. Her strength is all but gone and she has begun to bleed." To Llewelyn, that was a death knell. It showed on his face, and she said quickly, "No, my lord, bleeding need not be fatal, God's truth! She's lost mayhap a cupful, no more. But she's losing, too, her will t0 endure, losing all hope. And once she begins to believe she and the babe will die ..." She was weeping openly by now. "My lord, Dame Rhagnell did send me to tell you that we do need a vial of holy water. Will your chaplain" "Holy water? No! No, I forbid it!" "But my lord, you do not understand! It is for the babe. By pouring holy water onto a baptismal sponge, we can insert it up into Lady Joanna's womb, baptise the babe whilst it still lives!" "Are you mad? You've just admitted that Joanna now despairs of delivering this child. You tell her you want to baptise the child whilst in her womb and you'll be passing a death sentence upon her!" "I know," she said, and sobbed. "But if we do not, if the babe dies unbaptised, its soul will be lost to God! What choice have we, my lord, what choice?" "Llewelyn, she is right." Morgan, Richard, and Adda had come up behind them. "She is right, lad," the priest repeated softly. "If a child is not baptised, it is forever denied Paradise, may never look upon the face of God. Your child, Llewelyn. Can you risk that?" When Llewelyn did not answer, Morgan reached out, put his rosary into the younger man's hand. Llewelyn's fingers closed tightly around it; he could feel the beads digging into his palm. He brought them up, touched them to his lips, and then handed them back to the priest. "If I must choose between Joanna and the child," he said huskily, "I choose Joanna." ALISON opened the door just wide enough to allow her to slip through to join Llewelyn out on the drawbridge. When he grabbed the latch, pushed past her into the bedchamber, she cried out in shock, "My lord, no!" but made no move to stop him. Nor did Branwen, a mute, miserable ghost trailing him across the bailey and up the stairs. Both midwives, however, reacted with outrage. "My lord, you cannot enter the birthing chamber! You must go from here at once!" Llewelyn did not even hear them. He stood immobile for a moment, staring at Joanna. Although the chamber was chill, she was clad only in a chemise. It was linen, not a clinging material, but it had molded to her
292 body like a second skin, so drenched was she in perspiration. Her head was thrown back so far that her hair was sweeping the floor rushes, and the taut, corded muscles in her throat told Llewelyn more of her pain than any scream could have done. Dame Rhagnell had stepped in front of him, barring his way. He thrust her aside, knelt by Joanna. The contraction was easing; she was no longer writhing upon the birthing stool, no longer gasping for breath. He murmured her name, and she turned her head toward him. Sweat ran down her face like rain, soaked the bodice of her chemise; he was close enough now to see that her skirt was filthy, soiled with mucus and urine, stained with blood. But what appalled him was the expression in her eyes, the hopeless, despairing look of an animal caught in a trap. "Llewelyn ..." He'd never heard so much gladness compressed into one word, had never before heard his name invoked as a prayer. Her lips were cracked and bleeding; he touched them with his fingers, and she reached for his hand, clung tightly, desperately. "I've sent for Catrin. She'll be here soon, love," he said, saw her try to smile, and found himself blinking back tears. He'd long ago learned to freeze feelings until he could deal with them. If he had not, he'd not have been able to survive twenty years of border warfare, to see death claim men who mattered to him, and not mourn them until the battle was won. But the lessons of a lifetime now served for naught; he could not disassociate himself from Joanna's pain. He watched the red stain widening over her skirt, and could think only of Tangwystl, bleeding her life away in the bed they'd so often shared. The midwives were by no means reconciled to Llewelyn's alien presence in a female sanctum. But they temporarily abandoned their protests, turning all their attention to Joanna as her pain began anew. Dame Rhagnell knelt before the birthing stool, poured oil onto her hands, and began to probe under Joanna's skirt. She withdrew her hand only when the pain subsided, beckoned the other midwife aside. When Dame Meryl continued to shake her head, Dame Rhagnell turned away from her, said abruptly, "From what I could feel, the mouth of the womb is fully open. But her waters have not broken and the membranes of the water bag are blocking the babe's passage from 'he womb." She'd not even glanced at Joanna or the other women, was speaking to Llewelyn and Llewelyn alone. 'Do you understand?" Challengingly. He nodded. "Yes. You're saying this water bag should have broken rts own accord by now, but has not. Can you break it?" Yes. But there are risks in doing so. Ofttimes a woman's delivery be hastened by breaking her waters. But once the bag is broken, the
292 pains become more severe, and if the birthing is prolonged, she'll sufff more. Dame Meryl thinks we should wait for the bag to break on K own. I would rupture it myself. The mouth of her womb has been oper for hours; the babe should have come by now. So ... you tell me, u,, lord. Since you are here, you decide. What would you have us do?" Llewelyn knew what she was doing, acting to protect herse). should the wrong choice be made, should Joanna die. He knew, too that she was also taking vengeance the only way she could, trying t0 punish him for his intrusion into her domain. What he did not knon was which choice was the right one. How could he know? If he guessed wrong... He looked at Joanna in an agony of indecision. She was alread exhausted, could not survive many more hours of this, that he did not doubt. Still he hesitated, but with him the need to act would always prevail in the end. He swallowed, opened his mouth to tell her to go ahead, when Joanna forestalled him. She'd not grasped all of what was said, but she did understand that the midwife was forcing upon Llewelyn a choice no man should have to live with. "It is my decision to make," she said, speaking slowly and very carefully in her faulty Welsh. "I want you to break the water bag, Dame Rhagnell." The midwife studied her for a long moment, and then nodded. "It is the right choice, Madame, I am sure of it." They all watched tensely as she anointed her hands again in oil, seized a goose quill, and lowered herself onto her knees before Joanna "My lord, sit behind her on the stool and put your arms around her, high over her belly. We must wait for the next pain." Llewelyn did as she instructed, straddled the wooden plank protruding from the end of the stool, and braced Joanna back against his own body. She had closed her eyes tightly, was whispering rapidly, "Mary, Holy Mother of our Lord Jesus Christ, into thy hands and those of thy blessed Son now and forever I commit myself, body, soul, and spirit." Llewelyn stroked her hair until he felt her stiffen, twist against him. The midwife at once jerked up Joanna's skirt, leaned forward. J°' anna continued to writhe in Llewelyn's embrace. And then the midvviK was pulling back, and suddenly there was liquid gushing onto Joanna j skirt, onto the floor rushes, even splashing over Llewelyn's mud-cake boots. Llewelyn could tell almost immediately that Joanna's discomi° had been eased somewhat; her breathing was no longer so rapid an shallow, and when Branwen put a wine cup to her lips, she dran* gulps.
293 Dame Rhagnell let Joanna's skirt drop "The bleeding has ceased," e sald triumphantly, and Llewelyn forgave
her all "So, too, has the pain " There was wonder in Joanna's voice at first, nd then, returning fear "What does that mean, Dame Rhagnell7 Why have the pains stopped'" "It ofttimes happens after the water breaks, my lady " The midwife had regained her professional poise, said now with calming certainty, Soon the pangs will begin again, and when they do, the child will come quickly/ and with surprising ease " Whether she was lying or not, Llewelyn had no way of knowing But Joanna was free of pain for the first time in many hours Her queasiness had mercifully abated, too, and with Branwen's help, she was even able to walk the few steps into the privy chamber When she emerged, Llewelyn put his arm around her, slowly steered her toward a chair She leaned so heavily upon him that his fears came rushing back, as weak as she was, how much more could she endure7 "Llewelyn, I'm afraid "I know, love, I know " " afraid you shall be disappointed You see, I think the babe may be a girl Dame Meryl said sons are more easily birthed than this " He could not answer her at once, made mute by the utter intensity of his relief His greatest fear was that she would lose heart, would begin to look upon death as a release, he'd watched too many men die because dying was easier than suffering But if Joanna had indeed been teetering upon that precipice, she had pulled back in time, had found new reserves of courage to draw upon, to see her child born "I expect we can make do with a daughter if we must," he said, tenderly teasing, and kissed her swollen eyelids, the corner of her mouth The respite was brief, as Dame Rhagnell had predicted, Joanna's pains soon resumed As the contractions increased in frequency and mtensity, Dame Meryl stripped off Joanna's bloodied chemise, began to massage her abdomen Joanna was groaning, taking deep gulping Deaths, but she was not fighting the pain, was going with it, so intent upon her body's inner directives that she no longer seemed aware of levvelyn an(^ *ne midwives She gasped, digging her nails into Llewe- yn s wrist, and suddenly he could see the child's head Joanna's body °nvulsed again, and the baby's shoulders appeared, it slid between her '8ns into the eager waiting hands of the midwife « happened so quickly that Llewelyn was taken almost by surprise c " °nly a fleeting glimpse of a small dark shape, skin puckered and 5 ,ered Wlth what looked like slime, bloodied and bruised, and he felt a "orror that Joanna should have suffered so, only to give birth to a
294 dead child. But then the infant made a mewing sound, and the midvvife held it up with a cry of triumph. "A man-child," she exulted. "You've a son, my lord, a son!" Llewelyn reached out, touched one of the tiny waving fists, and laughed. The midwives did, too, for the birth of a male child called up instinctive and ancient loyalties, and they rejoiced in being able to present a son to the man who was their Prince. Joanna was all but forgotten until she demanded weakly, "Give me my son." Dame Meryl started to do so, instead handed the wet, squirming infant to Llewelyn, and it was he who laid the baby against Joanna's breast. Joanna had never before felt for anyone, not even Elen, what she now felt as she held her son for the first time, a fierce, passionate tenderness, love immediate and overwhelming. "He's so beautiful," she whispered, and Llewelyn laughed again, for he thought the baby could not have been uglier, splotched and red and smeared with his own feces, with his mother's blood. Joanna looked up as he laughed, and smiled at him, a smile he would remember for the rest of his life. But then she jerked spasmodically, groaned. One of the midwives grabbed for the baby, at once tied and cut through the navel cord, while the other pressed down upon Joanna's belly. Blood was spurting down Joanna's thighs, clotting on the floor. But Branwen was already at Llewelyn's side, Branwen who knew Tangwystl had bled to death, saying hastily, "It is not what you fear, my lord. The afterbirth does come, that be all." He saw she was right, soon saw a soft, spongy mass expelled into Dame Meryl's outstretched hands. She caught it deftly, scooped it into a waiting blanket. "It must be kept, must be properly buried," she explained, "lest it attract demons." Then she added, with more mischief than malice, "Should you like to look at it, my lord?" "Not really," Llewelyn said, and when he grinned, she grinned back. Dame Rhagnell now laid the baby back in Joanna's arms. "You may hold him for a few moments, Madame, but then he must be cleaned and rubbed with salt, must have his gums rubbed with honey." Llewelyn stood watching his wife and son, not aware of Branwen until she had twice touched his arm. "Here, my lord," she said, handing him a goblet full of mead. "Is it not a wondrous thing, to see your child born?" He nodded. "Indeed. But I'll tell you what is no less wondrous to me right now. That after a woman endures all this, why she is then willing to let any man ever again get within ten feet of her bed!" Although he spoke partly in jest, he was partly in earnest, too, and tn
295 omen recognized it, legitimized with lusty, approving laughter his brief incursion into a secret inner realm, the world within a world of women. VVHEN Joanna awoke, the chamber was deep in shadows. She started to sit up, grimaced, and sank back weakly against the pillow. At once Llewelyn was beside her, leaning over the bed. "How do you feel, love?" "I ache all over." To her dismay, she was suddenly shy with him, suddenly fearful that he might feel differently toward her now. "I wanted you so much," she confessed, "even begged the midwives to send for you when the pains got too bad. They said they could not, that it was not seemly, that a man would be sickened by the birthing ..." "Joanna, I was fifteen the first time I killed a man. In the years since, I've seen men gutted, beheaded, hacked to pieces. I rather think there is more blood on the battlefield than in the birthing chamber," he said wryly, and when she raised herself up awkwardly on her elbows, he gathered her gently into his arms. "The baby . . . where is he? Has he been fed?" "He is fine, breila." Seeing the doubt in her eyes, he beckoned, and a wet nurse approached the bed, gave Joanna her sleeping son. "You've arranged for the christening, Llewelyn?" she asked anxiously, not wanting to wait a moment longer than necessary to put her child under God's protection, and he nodded. "This evening in the chapel; I'll tell you about it after. Catrin has come; she rode in just after you fell asleep. I've asked her to stand as godmother, and as godfathers, Adda and Richard. Does that please you?" "Very much." Joanna cradled the baby, touched a finger to his cap of dark, feathery hair. "But ere he can be christened, we must pick a name for him. Have you one in mind?" "If you like, we could call him Sion." Joanna drew a sharp breath. "Ah, love, you'd truly do that for me? Le* me name him after my father?" She reached for his hand, saw the scratches she'd inflicted, sought feverishly to think, to give him a gift of equal generosity. What name would be most likely to please him? It was ot a common custom amongst the Welsh to name a son after the father, 'owerth? Morgan? And then she knew, and she smiled at him, said softly, "I do thank p . ' "eloved. But there can be but one name for our son, for a Welsh Ce- We must name him after the most cherished of your saints, we ' Ust name him Davydd."
296 BEYOND the castle, the world was utter blackness, the sky a vast, starles void. Gruffydd was blinded by the night, kept stumbling, and his fac and the palms of his hands were soon scratched from sprawling fau into the tangled underbrush. But he did not slow, did not halt his head long flight into the dark. He ran until his body could absorb no more abuse, and he stag gered, fell to his knees, struggling to fill his lungs with the ice-edged November air. A sharp, pulsing pain was pressing against his ribs, and he dropped down upon the ground, lay panting, his face pressed into the earth. The ground was damp, cold, scattered with dead and decaying leaves. He could feel sweat trickling down his neck, and then tears seeping through his lashes and searing his skin. He beat his fist against the hard, unyielding earth until his knuckles were raw and bleeding, until he wept. ^5 WOODSTOCK, ENGLAND October i2og a «TT JLJ.ARRI, throw the ball to me. Brysivxh, Harri!" Joanna, listening to her children play with Isabelle's two sons, found herself smiling, amused both by her small daughter's queenly commands and by the way she switched back and forth from French to Welsh. Henry was, at two, the oldest of the quartet, but he did Elen s bidding no less promptly than her brother. Davydd was normally Elen s favorite playmate, but he showed no resentment at being supplanted by Henry, played with his own ball unti
l Richard crawled over, made a" awkward grab for it. Isabelle sighed, bracing herself for the inevitable squabble, to followed by tantrums and tears, but Joanna knew better; she felt surprise when Davydd good-naturedly rolled the ball toward the yo
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