by Barb Hendee
I was no expert in childbirth, but this was no false labor. Picking up a cloth and bowl of water, I dabbed at Ashton’s head. “I won’t leave you.”
She fought not to cry out as another pain hit her.
Hours passed, and dawn was nearly upon us. The midwife checked her, and she seemed no closer to pushing. I worried Ashton might be too weakened and exhausted to push when the time came.
“What is wrong?” I asked the midwife. “Why is this taking so long?”
“There’s nothing wrong. This is her first birth. It will take time.”
At a convulsion of pain, Ashton cried out.
“I’m going to fetch her some brandy,” I said, getting up and hurrying for the door.
Upon stepping outside, I stopped cold. Rowan stood there, just outside the door. He looked terrible, and for the first time, I could not help but pity him. Men, not even kings, were allowed into a birthing chamber. He was forced to stand out here and listen, with no idea what was happening inside.
“Olivia,” he said in a rasping voice. “I just heard her cry out.”
“It’s all right,” I tried to reassure him. “The midwife says this is normal for a first birth.”
“But it’s gone on so long. She won’t die? Tell me she won’t die.”
I’d never touched Rowan before, but I reached out and touched his arm. “Of course she won’t, but she needs a little brandy for the pain. Would you go and get it?”
I suspected he needed something to do, and I was right.
“Yes,” he answered readily. “I’ll go now.”
“Just knock on the door when you come back. I’ll come out.”
* * * *
By midmorning, Ashton was finally ready to push. By that point, she could no longer sit up, and I had to hold her.
The midwife was ready to deliver the baby, and Kamilla had brought clean water and blankets. Ashton was trying, but she was having difficulty.
“You must push,” I ordered. “Push!”
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“Feel my arms around you. Draw on my strength. Push!”
She bore down hard, and her baby came into the world.
The midwife held the child inside a blanket as it drew its first breath and began to cry.
“A boy, my queen,” she said.
“Oh, Ashton,” I said. “You have a son.”
Tears flowed from her eyes. “Let me see him. Let me hold him.”
The midwife cut the cord and tied it. Ashton was so weak that we helped her to hold him, but her joy was clear. “He is beautiful.”
The child was indeed perfect, perhaps small for having been born early, but he boasted a head of dark hair.
Ashton looked up at me. “Is Rowan outside the door?”
“Yes.”
“Would you go and tell him?”
He would not be allowed inside just yet, but I hurried to do as she asked, and I cracked the door. At the sight of me, he rushed up.
“You have a healthy son,” I said.
“What of Ashton? Is she well? Is she bleeding?”
“No more than expected.”
“Let me in.”
“Not yet, my king. Give us a few moments more.”
For an instant, I thought he might push past me, but he relented and I closed the door.
Walking back into the bedroom, I said, “We should be quick. He won’t wait long.”
For generations, noblemen had been kept away from the realities of birth. I was not entirely certain of the reasons, but it was rule none of us would break. Here, Kamilla was of the most use. While the midwife cleaned and readied the child, Kamilla manage to get the blood-soaked sheets off the bed without disturbing Ashton too much. Clean sheets were put on the bed, and the bloody ones hidden away until they could later be taken to the laundry.
Ashton’s nightgown was changed. Her hair was combed.
All traces of the birth were removed, and Ashton was propped up on two pillows. Kamilla handed her the child, who was wrapped in a clean blanket.
“All right, my lady,” Kamilla said to me. “The king may enter.”
I was no longer “my lady,” but I didn’t bother to correct her. Instead, I went to door of the sitting room and opened it, nodding to Rowan.
He swept inside and strode to the bedroom.
At the sight of Ashton, propped up on pillows, with her black hair all around her, he closed his eyes briefly in relief. Then he went to her side.
“You are well?” he asked. “You will recover?”
She was exhausted, but managed a smile. “Look at him, Rowan. He is so beautiful. Might we name him Eduard?”
But Rowan didn’t even glance at the child. Instead, he turned to the midwife. “The queen is well? There’ll be no childbed fever?”
“The queen is well, my king,” answered the midwife carefully. “I believe so.”
“Might we call him Eduard?” Ashton asked again.
“What?” Rowan said. “Oh, yes. If you wish.”
I was dumbfounded, as was Kamilla. One of the first duties of a king was to provide an heir, and Rowan now stood over a healthy son. Any other man would have been rejoicing. For him, the child seemed almost an afterthought. But I remembered that he’d had no sleep, and he’d been pacing all night outside the door. He, too, must be over-weary and strained, and he wasn’t thinking straight. Soon, he would celebrate with Ashton over the birth of their son.
Leaning close to Kamilla, I whispered. “The captain waited at the barracks, but he will bursting for news by now. I’ll go down and tell him.”
“Of course, my lady.”
* * * *
I took a room at the castle, in the same south tower, so I could stay and keep company with Ashton in her recovery. The birth had left her weak, but I brought her bread soaked in beef broth, and she insisted on nursing Eduard herself.
She delighted in him and could not seem to hold him enough. I think he gave her strength as much as the broth.
“Do you think his eyes will stay blue, Olivia?” she asked me.
“I don’t know,” I laughed. “Most babies are born with blue eyes. They will either grow lighter like yours or go dark brown like Rowan’s.”
Every noblewoman in residence came to visit, and the happiness caused by Eduard’s birth was so great that none of them bothered to snub me or pretend I hadn’t been raised as one of them. Even Miranda took Eduard from my arms so that she might hold him, and the smile she offered in thanks was genuine.
The only moments of discomfort occurred whenever Rowan came to visit. I didn’t understand him. He never once held Eduard or shared joy with Ashton. He came to check on her recovery and to inquire when she might be well again.
Once, when he arrived, she was nursing the baby, and he stopped in his tracks at the sight.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
For the most part, Ashton had decided to pretend all was well and that Rowan was behaving like a normal father.
“Feeding our son.” She smiled.
He did not smile back. “Yourself? Should you not arrange a wet nurse?”
“No. It’s best in the early days for the mother to nurse.”
“The early days? Very well…but you must soon hire a wet nurse.”
His frown deepened, and I could no longer deny the truth. He was jealous of his own son.
I remained at the castle for a week.
One other important event occurred during those days. Near the end of the week, Rowan came to us and announced that he’d signed a treaty with King Amandine, and the war with Samourè was over. Unfortunately, the list of dead on both sides was long, and we would have a number of crippled and maimed men coming home. He was unsure how to help them, as all the extra taxes had already been spent on food,
weapons, and supplies for the army.
In the end, Amandine promised to stop the border raids himself—which is what he’d suggested in the first place—and Rowan did not press him for financial reparations, as we had devastated the southern border of his kingdom. So, besides providing ourselves with a reputation for our brutal show of strength, we’d gained nothing.
Rowan would never admit it, but I think he regretted having allowed himself to be swayed by Lord Sauvage.
I tried not to think on it. For now, I gave all my attention to Ashton and Eduard. He was a sweet child, and holding him caused me to wish for my own child. As of yet, I showed no signs that Micah and I might soon have happy news ourselves.
Eight evenings following Eduard’s birth, Rowan arrived in Ashton’s rooms about an hour before dinner would be served. He brought a young woman with him.
“This is Marta,” he said. “A wet nurse I’ve hired for the child.”
Ashton was sitting on a couch, holding Eduard. “A wet nurse?”
“I believe you are recovered enough to join me at dinner,” he said, “and for chess afterward.”
“You wish me to dress for dinner and come down?” she asked, as if she was not hearing him correctly. “What about Eduard? I would prefer to stay here with him.”
Rowan’s expression flattened. “If he distracts you here and he is too much trouble, perhaps he should be moved to the nursery.”
All the pity I’d felt for Rowan on the night of Eduard’s birth vanished, and my old hatred rose up. He wanted Ashton on his arm at dinner, and he wanted her to resume their games of chess. He’d just threatened to have Eduard taken from her rooms and placed into the nursery if she did not agree.
“I’ll send for Kamilla,” she answered quietly. “I’ll be down before the first course is served.”
“Good.” He nodded and looked at me. “You are invited to dinner if you care to stay.”
I did not care to stay. I could no longer help Ashton, and I didn’t wish to see any more of this tragedy playing itself out.
“No. But thank you, my king,” I said. “I should rejoin my husband and see about affairs in my own house now.” I turned to Ashton. “But I’ll return to see you in a few days.”
It seemed she might argue at my sudden announcement of departure, but she didn’t.
“Don’t stay away too long,” she said, and her voice sounded small.
I left the apartments and walked as swiftly as I could down the stairwell and through the castle to the courtyard. I wanted Micah. I wanted to go home.
He was not in sight, but darkness had fallen, and I soon spotted him beneath the burning braziers down at the gates. Again, I walked quickly, to find him giving instructions about the watch rotation.
My arrival surprised him. “Olivia.”
“I’d like to go home.”
He could always read me well. “I’m done for tonight. You wait here, and I’ll get the horses.”
* * * *
The following day, Micah left early, and I tried to focus on all the duties I’d neglected over the past week. I didn’t want to think about Ashton up at the castle, about Rowan using her own son to threaten her.
Our cook was a pleasant woman named Claire, and when I went to the kitchen to discuss the weekly menus, I realized it was bread-baking day.
“Might I help?” I asked.
“If you like, mistress.”
We passed the morning making bread together and talking of small things. The activity helped keep my worries and fears at bay. In the early afternoon, Nan came to join us. She’d been cleaning rooms upstairs.
The three of us shared a light meal of cheese, ham, and pickles.
We’d just finished when I heard the sound of the front door opening. I’d not expected Micah home this early.
“Wife!” he called playfully. “Where are you hiding?”
All three of us smiled. Micah’s moods were always infectious.
“We’re in the kitchen,” I called back, like some uncouth girl of the streets.
“Close your eyes,” he called. “And keep them closed. I have a gift for you.”
A gift? Micah allowed me to spend any money I wished, but he was not the type of husband to buy gifts.
I closed my eyes.
As the sound of his bootsteps entered the kitchen, both Claire and Nan gasped.
“Keep your eyes closed,” Micah said, “and crouch down.”
What was he up to?
Still, I crouched, and heard a light scrabbling sound. Something touched my hand, and I opened my eyes to the sight of a puppy just before she wriggled up into my lap. She was a small spaniel with soft ears and soulful eyes.
“Oh, Micah.”
He and I couldn’t speak of Ashton, as that would require me criticizing Rowan, but he’d seen my pain and tried to do me a kindness. He’d remembered my story about Emma.
“Do you like her?” he asked.
“She’s lovely,” I answered, gathering the wriggling puppy in my arms. Nan and Claire came to pet her.
“I thought we might stay with names beginning with the letter E,” Micah said. “What do you think of Esmeralda?”
“Esmeralda?”
“Essie for short.”
I stroked her ears, and she licked my face. “Essie.”
* * * *
A month passed.
I’d ridden up to the castle several times, but I hadn’t stayed long. So far, Ashton had managed to keep Eduard in her apartments, but Rowan always exacted a price, and I knew this could not go on.
But one morning when I woke up, I remembered it was common court day, and I decided to go and see Ashton up in the dais, whispering advice in Rowan’s ear.
Somehow, I thought the sight might remind me of days past, back when Genève held some control over Rowan, before he’d manipulated his marriage, and Ashton’s face had been bright with life.
Micah was already gone from our bed. He often slipped from our bed and headed off to work early.
I wondered how he might feel about me riding up through the city without protection, but we’d never discussed this, so he couldn’t complain.
After dressing quickly, I saddled Meesha myself and rode through the city.
When I arrived at the castle gates, Lieutenant Arye greeted me.
“Is the captain already inside?” I asked.
“Yes. Court is just beginning.”
“Can you stable Meesha for me?”
He lifted me down and took her reins. After thanking him, I headed across the courtyard and into the castle.
Up the corridor, the round entry chamber was empty, and I quietly stepped through the archway into the great hall. It was crowded.
My eyes moved to the dais.
Rowan sat in his large chair, and Jarvis stood to the right as always. The six guards stood behind in attendance.
But Ashton’s chair was missing. She wasn’t there.
Rowan’s expression was tense as he listened to a young woman standing on the floor before him. She was thin, and her dress was threadbare. She carried a baby in her arms.
“My king,” she said, “I cannot pay next month’s taxes when they come due. My husband was taken for the army, and he was killed in Samourè. We’ve had no income since he left.”
Shifting in his chair, Rowan nodded. “My condolences on the death of your husband. You will receive an extension until next summer. It is hopeful things will have improved for you by then.”
She thanked him, but the faces in the crowd were as tense as his.
The next case was a middle-aged widow who’d lost her son in Samourè and was also asking for an extension. My gaze scanned the crowd. Most of the people here were thin women in threadbare clothing, and I guessed many of them had lost men. Rowan could not excuse their
taxes or the kingdom could not function, but he’d bled them dry over the winter to pay for his war, and now there were few men to earn money.
Spotting Micah on the far side of the hall, I made my way over. He blinked at the sight of me.
“Did you ride up alone?” he whispered.
“I was fine. Where is Ashton?”
Though I think he wanted to continue our discussion of me riding through the city alone, he said, “Rowan said she’s not well.” He looked worried.
“I’ll go up and see her.”
He nodded.
* * * *
Upstairs, in the south tower, I knocked on her door, but no one answered.
Pausing only briefly, I reached down and opened the door.
Inside, Ashton sat at her tea table, staring into space. She still wore her nightgown and dressing robe. Her hair was uncombed.
The cradle on the floor beside her was empty.
With an ill feeling, I entered the room and approached her.
“Ashton?”
She looked at me. “Olivia?”
There was bad cut on the left side of her mouth, but the blood had dried.
“What happened?” I asked.
Her eyes were so lost.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Where’s Eduard?”
She looked away, staring into space again. “The nursery. I’m not allowed to see him for a while. Last night, Rowan insisted he be moved to the nursery, and I…I argued. I should not have argued with Rowan.”
“Did he strike you?”
“Strike me? No, he would never. But afterward, he came to my bed, and he was angry, and he…”
When she didn’t finish the sentence, I was grateful. I did not want to know any more.
I stayed with her the rest of the day. I tried to make her eat something, and I read her more stories. An hour before dinner, Kamilla came in. She stopped when she saw me.
“The king may be up shortly,” she said. “But I don’t think he’ll expect the queen to come down for dinner.”
Understanding her meaning, I stood. Rowan would not want the other nobles to see Ashton like this, especially not with the cut on her mouth.
“I must go home, but I’ll return soon,” I told Ashton. “We’ll go and see Eduard. I promise.”