‘Princess! Your shift!’
‘What’s wrong?’ Judith thought about trying to twist her head around to see, but the clamping pain in her spine and the roiling in her belly changed her mind.
‘It is wet, Princess. The back is wet.’ Judith furrowed her brow. She knew she needed the pot, but she also knew she hadn’t emptied her bladder; the discomfort low in her belly confirmed that. Inexorably, the compression she could feel surrounding her lower back increased and she felt it turn to a wave of pain that made her cry out.
Elin’s calm voice drifted into her brain. ‘Princess, we will have to send for the midwife. Your child is on his way.’
Judith waited until the pain had faded and she could speak, then clutched the post of the huge bed, shuddering a breath.
‘Then he will wait until you have finished cutting the end from my hair, Alys, and removed that gown from my sight. I will not bear my child until it is gone.’ She gazed at the silk that still seemed to exude the clammy chill of Nicholas’ hands as he touched her belly, and she gave a shudder.
Another wave of pain clenching across her belly made her clasp the bed-post even more tightly and dragged a groan from the depths of her chest. Elin massaged her back firmly and she heard the door crash open on its hinges, while a peculiar hissing noise came from the fireplace as Alys threw her hair into the flames.
‘Ralf! Ralf! Send Adal for the midwife, and find Lord Baldwin.’ Ghislaine’s panicked shriek echoed around the palazzo as Judith gritted her teeth against another painful contraction.
***
Chapter 125
Baldwin rushed into the chamber, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw Judith standing with her hands braced against the bed-post, her knuckles white and her breath rasping in her throat. Wisps of her hair were plastered to the skin of her forehead, and rivulets of sweat dribbled down her neck. The strange reek of something burning vied with the coppery smell of blood and there were disquieting pools of fluid on the floor that he strode through heedlessly. The stench reminded him of the battlefield, and his stomach turned over that Judith had to endure this because of him.
The midwife, a short, rotund woman who had been highly recommended by Giovanni for her expertise, hissed a shriek through her teeth and flapped her fleshy hands at him, trying to make him leave.
‘La camera della signora non è un posto per un uomo!’ she shrieked, flapping her hands harder. No-one could understand her words, and Baldwin stood straight and looked her in the eye.
‘Lady, the Princess is my wife, and I am staying by her side.’ He no more thought the midwife able to understand him than he did her, but the woman simply shrugged and dropped to her knees in the sticky mess on the floor. She pushed away the birthing stool and slid her hands beneath Judith’s sodden shift. She had understood his tone and the look on his face quite well enough.
He turned, seeing Judith rest her forehead on the twisted wooden spar, blowing out her breath and trembling slightly as the pain abated.
‘My love, what can I do? How can I help? Do you want to sit down? Lie on the bed perhaps?’
He hitched himself onto the edge of the bed to face her and covered her hands with his, watching her shake her head tiredly.
‘No! It hurts too much to lie down, and the stool feels too low.’ She dragged a breath. ‘Just talk to me, Baldwin. Distract me from the pain.’ Her voice was breathless, her throat raw. Again he watched her stiffen as another contraction began, and he placed his arms around her middle.
‘Hold onto me, my love. Grip me, not the post.’ He felt her fingers cling onto into his biceps, the nails digging into the linen of his shirt. Judith shrieked and then groaned, and he felt the drop of her body as she tried to bear down. The midwife had resumed her position behind her, hands and arms shrouded in the damp silk gown hanging from Judith’s slender shoulders. He recognised it as the shift she had worn for the Papal audience, and he cursed himself for delaying in the courtyard, laughing with Gozfrid instead of escorting her to her chamber.
But she had seemed distracted after speaking with her brother, and had stated her intention of changing her gown into something more comfortable, so he had assumed she was gossiping about the Vatican with her demoiselles, not shrieking in agony as she bore him a child.
‘Va tutto bene, signore. Posso sentire il bambino. Dille do spingere di nuovo.’
Baldwin looked askance at the elderly woman, but understood the grin and the nod, if not the words. ‘I think you are doing well, my love. The old girl is smiling at me now, at least.’
Judith nodded, whimpering slightly as the pain began again, then letting out another groan as she crouched and pushed as hard as she could. Baldwin was struggling to bear her weight in the position he was in, and tipped his head to Ghislaine and Elin.
‘I can hold her up, but can you help her? Rub her back where the pain is?’ Both demoiselles nodded, tying linen cloths around their waists, and then Elin supported Judith with her shoulder, moistening her bitten lips with a wet rag as Ghislaine rubbed the small of her back. Baldwin shifted his position and then used the strength he had built up with years of sword practice to hold his wife upright.
The midwife cackled a laugh as Judith let out a huge scream followed by an agonisingly long moan, sagging in Baldwin’s arms. The old woman scooted backwards, heedless of the filth, holding a bloody squirming bundle in her hands. Alys dropped to her knees in all the mess on the floor and took the child into a warmed fold of linen, while the midwife produced some strips of braided flax and a pair of sharp shears from the pocket of her stained apron.
‘Un’altra spinta principessa, e puoi sdraiarti.’ The midwife tied one strip of flax around the cord just above the babe’s skin, and another a few inches further along, then sliced through the cord with a satisfied snip. Immediately the child began to wail and Judith gave a tired chuckle. Baldwin felt himself grinning inanely around the room.
Suddenly Judith gasped again, tightening her fingers on his skin, then groaned and the midwife crowed, holding up, to Baldwin’s eyes, a piece of veiny, bloody meat that she plopped into a waiting bucket.
Standing with a weary groan and clicking knees, the old woman grinned and nodded at Baldwin, flicking her eyes from Judith to the bed, and Baldwin took this as permission to lay Judith upon the tester. Sweeping her up, he lifted her onto the bed and Elin slid a piece of padded linen beneath her before he laid her down in the centre of the mattress, stretching his long body beside her.
Stroking back her hair from her hot forehead, he kissed her gently. ‘We have a babe, my love. A loud, lusty child. Listen.’ The babe’s indignant wails filled the room, and Alys hurried to wrap the mite tightly in linen before rushing across to them.
Gently, she laid the bundle in Judith’s arms, and she beamed as Baldwin touched the child’s pink, squalling face with a hesitant forefinger.
‘Our child,’ he whispered, as Judith chuckled with tears rolling unheeded down her cheeks.
‘Your son, Lord,’ whispered Alys.
***
Chapter 126
Ghislaine walked quietly into the salon attached to Judith’s bedroom and dropped tiredly into a chair. Gazing across the room, she saw Gozfrid wrapped in his cloak, fast asleep on the chaise, his long legs dangling over the edge.
She drank him in, observing him while he slept and he couldn’t dismiss her attention with a throwaway remark or the sudden need to leave. All the things that delighted her about him; the way his fair hair curled at the ends onto his shoulders always made her smile, and she hadn’t noticed quite how long his golden lashes were until she saw them resting on his cheek. Gazing into his eyes made her flush and look away, or scurry from the room.
Hi
s lips, in repose behind his beard, tilted up at the corners even when he wasn’t smiling, and the length of his legs over the end of the chaise made her stomach flutter; she adored it when he towered over her, even if he was usually teasing her or casting aspersions on her command of French. How she wished he would speak to her brother, ask for her hand in marriage.
Resting her cheek on her hand, she closed her eyes briefly, wondering how she could manoeuvre Gozfrid into speaking to Ralf, or even Ralf into asking Gozfrid his intentions. Her eyes snapped open at that thought, and she smiled to herself, thinking that it might be more than possible to get Ralf to ask the question. Easier than getting Gozfrid to do it, at least.
The glitter of the fire reflected in his eyes made her realise that he was awake and watching her. She beamed tiredly at him.
‘Bonn jurr, Gozfrid,’ she grinned, the greeting one she always used, no matter the time of day or however many times they had met previously.
‘Ma petite.’ He nodded his head and spoke tightly. ‘Is everything well? Is your Princess safe?’
Ghislaine saw the direction of his eyes and realised she was still swathed in the piece of linen Elin had silently handed her to cover her gown, and it was streaked with blood and other fluids from the birthing chamber. The look his eyes held was one of horror, and she thought that, despite the battles he had been part of, and the Danes he had killed, he had probably never been near the birth of a child, and that thought made her chuckle.
‘Yes, Gozfrid. Everything is well, and the child is safely delivered. Lord Baldwin has a son.’
‘He will be relieved, ma petite. He will be pleased it is a son, but the safety of the Princess was of greater importance to him.’ Ghislaine watched as he stretched out his legs and then swung them to the floor, sitting up on the chaise and easing the cloak from around his shoulders.
‘Do you want a son, Gozfrid? And a wife to bear one?’ Ghislaine almost held her breath waiting for his answer, determined to keep her voice steady and the flush from her cheek.
She heard his laugh in the gathering gloom of the salon. The servants would be along soon to light the candles in the sconces, and she would really prefer to have this conversation in the dusk, rather than have him see her discomfiture.
‘I would, ma petite, but I would want some land to make them a home before my son was born.’ He stopped suddenly and let out a heavy sigh. Ghislaine glanced quickly at his face, and saw the sadness there.
‘And I would want somewhere safe, so I could take care of my wife properly and watch my child grow up. I remember my parents only dimly, as I was very young when they died. A miscarriage killed my mother, and my father died in battle. But I would want my children to remember me.’
Ghislaine felt a lump in her throat at his sadness, and understood it better than he knew. The door opened and in walked Giovanni with the taper for the candles, so Ghislaine jumped to her feet, hurrying towards the door connecting with Judith’s chamber.
She turned and grinned at Gozfrid, pushing away her sorrow. ‘I knew we would have many things in common, Gozfrid,’ she said brightly. ‘I’m an orphan too. And I intend to live safely, and have many, many children.’
***
Chapter 127
Sunlight streamed through the large windows that led to the loggia, and the sounds and smells of the street drifted up into Judith’s bedchamber, although they didn’t disturb the small tableau ensconced on the huge bed.
Braced against Baldwin’s chest, his arm protectively around her, Judith fed their child. Baldwin had been up and about for a couple of hours, setting the warriors to their morning exercises before they broke their fast, but she knew he had raced up the stairs to be with her while the babe had his morning feed.
‘You should allow me to engage a wet-nurse, my love. You need your sleep.’ Baldwin whispered the words so as not to distract the babe from his task, and Judith lifted her face for a kiss.
‘Perhaps when we get back to Cousin Lotha’s court I will ask Lady Waldrada to recommend someone, Baldwin. But while we are here, please let me feed him.’ The child let out a shuddering snort and Judith detached him from her breast and put him to the other side. Greedily, he clamped his mouth around the offered nipple and began to suck with renewed gusto as Judith blinked a little at the stinging sensation and Baldwin chuckled softly.
‘I would not want to stop you, my love. I’m just concerned about you, that is all. But we can ask for advice when we return to Lorraine. Lady Waldrada is well experienced, after all.’ Baldwin slid his fingers to entwine with Judith’s as their son suckled, and she leaned her head back into his shoulder, closing her eyes briefly.
A tap came at the door, and Alys entered, flushing pink when she saw Baldwin shirtless on the bed with his arms around his half-naked wife and son.
‘Apologies, Princess, Lord. But your brother Lothaire is here and is asking to see you.’
Baldwin reached onto the floor and snatched up his shirt, carelessly dropped when he took his place behind Judith to support her while she fed the child. Shrugging it over his head and ignoring both Alys’ wide eyes and Judith’s brief snort of amusement, he nodded his head.
‘Show him up, Alys, then take the babe.’
Alys scurried out to fetch Lothaire while Judith helped her baby to detach his mouth from her skin and then fastened the draw-string at the neck of her gown. Baldwin held his son, the child fitting into the palms of his hands. Rocking the sleeping boy gently, he paced the room until another tap sounded and Lothaire entered, grinning at his sister enthroned on the bed, and peeking at his nephew in breathless astonishment.
‘He’s delightful, Sis. I’m sure His Holiness would love to see him.’
‘No!’ Judith’s voice was firm, and both her husband and brother blinked at her sharp tone. Judith tilted her lips and pulled the coverlet further over herself, dropping her eyes to give herself a moment to think. She couldn’t bear that her son might be held by….that man.
‘He is so small and fragile, Lothaire, I cannot think about taking him into that crush that surrounds His Holiness. Perhaps when he is a little bigger?’ Judith smiled, a bit more genuinely this time, as Alys took the babe from Baldwin and bobbed a brief curtsey before taking the child back to his nursery.
‘Whatever you wish, Sis. But I have with me a copy of the letter he has despatched to our father. I thought to bring it personally rather than entrust it to a messenger. Bribery is so common here, I cannot trust that Father or Charles doesn’t have someone on their payroll.’ Lothaire dropped into the seat by the bed and held out toward Judith a scroll of parchment tied with an ornately sealed ribbon.
‘Thank you, brother. It means a great deal, and I cannot thank you enough. Except….’ Judith’s voice trailed away, and she flushed, a little embarrassed that she intended to ask her younger brother yet another favour.
Baldwin passed his brother-in-law a cup of wine, sipping his own with a sardonic smile on his lips. Then he went to the table and poured some for Judith, handing her the vessel and sliding back onto the bed.
‘Drink up, my love, and then you might have the courage to ask him.’ Baldwin grinned conspiratorially at Lothaire, who raised his brows with a questioning chuckle.
‘You need courage to ask me something, Sis?’ Judith saw the doubt in her brother’s eyes, and she shook her head with a soft laugh.
‘Not really, Lothaire. That is Baldwin’s idea of a joke.’ She wrinkled her nose at her husband, and then turned a clear gaze to her brother. ‘But I did wonder if you would be able to baptise our child before we set out for Lorraine? I don’t want anything ostentatious, brother. Just a simple ceremony asking for God’s blessing on our son. Would that be acceptable?’
Judit
h couldn’t think of anyone she would rather have bless her son than her kind, gentle brother. The idea of having him touched and blessed by the Pope horrified her, and she hoped they would have set off back to Lorraine before the idea occurred again to Lothaire.
‘Of course, Sis. I would be happy to baptise him. Shall we have the ceremony here, or….?
‘Here.’ Judith’s tone was flat, and, out of the corner of her eye, she caught Baldwin’s surprised glance. She leaned forward and took hold of Lothaire’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. ‘We have a private chapel here, Lothaire, and I would like his godparents to be you and Gozfrid.’ Judith gave a little laugh and shrugged her shoulders, ‘Protection for him in this world and the next.’
‘And when do you want it held?’
‘As soon as you can, Lothaire,’ answered Baldwin with a grin. ‘We remain here for a few more weeks, then take ship from Ostia back to Frankia and Lotha’s court.’ Judith watched him for a moment, seeing the doubt behind his cheerful words. ‘And we wait to see if the words of His Holiness have the desired effect on your father. See if he allows us to return home.’
Lothaire regarded Baldwin levelly and then grinned, nodding at the scroll Judith had placed on the chest beside the bed. ‘When he reads that, Baldwin, he won’t have a choice.’
Judith saw hope flicker across her husband’s face, quickly suppressed beneath the façade of cynicism he seemed to have adopted of late, and Baldwin drained his wine cup.
‘There is always a choice.’
***
Chapter 128
Most esteemed Majesty, King Charles of Frankia. Greetings from the Seat of Saint Peter.
Judith, Twice Queen of Wessex Page 41