The Agents of William Marshal Volume I: A Medieval Romance Bundle, page 206
He swallowed. “It is clear.”
“Good.”
With that, Keeva opened the door into the chamber Bric was so familiar with. It smelled strongly of peppermint, thought to ward off the evil tidings of childbirth, and as he stepped into the chamber, his gaze immediately found his wife.
Eiselle was sitting on a birthing chair near the hearth. She looked weary, her face sweaty and her beautiful hair pulled away from her face, but her expression lightened when she saw her husband. Bric went to her, choked up with emotion in spite of Keeva’s threat. He went to his knees next to the chair, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her head to his lips for a tender kiss.
“How do you feel, mo chroí?” he asked softly. “Keeva tells me that our son is being difficult.”
Eiselle put her hand on his face, chuckling. “Do not look so worried,” she said. “Weetley simply needs to turn him so that he is facing the right way.”
She was being incredibly brave, far braver than he was. Bric nodded, unable to speak because he was genuinely trying not to weep. He was as frightened as he had ever been in his life and trying very hard not to show it.
“Then I will help however I can,” he said, sounding surprisingly calm. “I am anxious to meet Conor.”
Eiselle smiled. “As am I,” she said. “He will be here soon, I am certain. You needn’t worry.”
“I won’t.”
That was as much of a greeting as Keeva would allow. Things needed to happen and they needed to happen quickly, and there was no time for sentiment, not if this baby was going to be born any time soon. She began waving her hands at Bric.
“Get in behind her and put your arms around her shoulders,” she said. “You must hold her as still as you can while we attempt to turn the baby.”
Bric summoned his courage. For the fearless warrior, this was something of a very new experience for him, but he did as he was told. As he stood up and moved to the back of the chair, Weetley flipped up the bottom of Eiselle’s shift, revealing her enormous belly. Truth be told, Bric was well-acquainted with that belly, for he had slept with it nightly for the past several months, and his lip prints were all over it as a result of speaking to his son on a regular basis.
All he could see was Eiselle’s belly and her legs as they rested on a chair that was made for childbirth. He really couldn’t see anything else, which was fine with him. He didn’t want to see the birthing process in the least, mysterious and terrifying thing that it was. As he knelt down behind the chair and wrapped his arms around Eiselle, pulling her into his powerful embrace, Weetley began greasing up Eiselle’s belly.
From that point, Bric didn’t want to see anymore. He held on to his wife as he felt her body jerked around by whatever Weetley was doing. Eiselle grunted and gasped, but she never emitted anything more than that. With all of the buffeting going on, it must have surely been excruciating, but she never cried out or wept. She simply held on to Bric’s arms as he held tightly to her. Bric’s face was pressed into her back, eyes closed as he held on and prayed.
More greasing and more turning. Bric could hear Weetley and Keeva as they worked in tandem to move the child. Zara and a female servant stood behind them, ensuring they had enough pig fat to grease up Eiselle’s belly, and ensuring Weetley had everything he needed in order to ensure the safe and healthy delivery. More grunting and groaning from his wife and Bric was ready to explode but, mercifully, it came to a halt before he could.
“The child is turned as much as we can move him, my lady,” Weetley said in his thin, high-pitched voice. “With your next pain, you must push as hard as you can.”
Eiselle was breathing heavily from the pain of trying to turn her child around. For Bric’s sake, she’d kept as quiet as she could because the pain was more than she had anticipated.
“I will,” she gasped. Turning her head, she whispered to her husband. “Do not let me go, Bric. Hold me tightly.”
It sounded like a plea to him, and a frightened one. Tears popped out of Bric’s eyes, wetting the back of her shift where he had his face pressed against her.
“I will not let you go, I swear it,” he said hoarsely. “I will not leave you.”
That seemed to give Eiselle a great deal of comfort. When her next pain came, as they were very close together now, she was able to bear down and push with all her might. With every pain she would push again, as hard as she could, as Weetley and Keeva encouraged her.
But it seemed to Bric that Eiselle had been pushing for quite some time with little results. His arms were around her shoulders and he could feel her entire body tensing up every time she pushed. It was agonizing to feel her work so hard for something that was very slow in happening. But through it all, she maintained her composure, grunting and even growling as she pushed almost angrily sometimes. Just when Bric thought he was surely going to lose his composure, Keeva gave a shout.
“I see him, Eiselle!” she cried. “Push very hard the next time, sweetheart. Push!”
Eiselle did. Summoning her dwindling strength one last time, she gave a big push when the next pain came and, suddenly, the baby dropped out right into Weetley’s waiting hands.
Relief was almost instant, and Eiselle collapsed against the back of the chair, against Bric, breathing heavily.
“Is he well?” she demanded. “Keeva, is he well? Why is he not crying?”
A thin wail pierced the air and Eiselle burst into happy, exhausted tears, as did her husband. He was holding her so tightly that she could barely breathe, but Eiselle could feel Bric behind her, weeping into her back. She patted the arms that were locked around her.
“He is well,” she assured Bric, as if he was the one needing comfort. “Do you hear him? He is well.”
Bric lifted his head from where it had been pressed between Eiselle’s shoulder blades. His cheeks were damp but there was a huge smile on his face as he kissed Eiselle’s cheek over and over. Meanwhile, Keeva took the baby from Weetley as the man tended to the afterbirth and held the child up for the exhausted and elated parents.
“Look at him,” she said joyfully. “Look how big he is!”
Eiselle and Bric got their first glimpse of the fat, lusty baby, now screaming loudly in the warmth of the room. It was, indeed, a boy, as they could see, and Eiselle held out her arms for him.
“Give him to me,” she begged. “Oh, please give him to me.”
Keeva complied, handing the child over to his eager mother, standing back as Eiselle carefully cradled the squirming infant against her breast. Overwhelmed with the first touch of her son, Eiselle started weeping again.
“Look,” she sobbed, holding up his little fist. “He is so perfect. Look at his hands, Bric.”
Bric was hovering over the pair, his eyes alight with wonder. “I cannot believe he is finally here,” he said. Gently, he put his enormous hand on the baby’s head, dwarfing it. “Eiselle, he is beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”
He kissed his wife again as she cradled the baby, both of them watching their newborn son with wonderment. For all of the anticipation they had felt towards this moment, nothing could do it justice. Bric felt as if he’d been born anew the moment his son had made his way into the world, because every hope and dream he’d ever had for his child somehow became a reality. A strong son to follow in his footsteps and a wife who had come through the birth unscathed.
He had so very much to be grateful for.
“He already looks like you,” Eiselle said. “Look at his ears – they have a little point on them like yours do.”
Bric smiled at the sight. “Blame my father,” he said. “He has those ears, too.”
“I think they are beautiful ears.”
He laughed softly, putting timid fingers on those tiny baby ears. “He is perfect,” he said, kissing Eiselle on the cheek. “Like you. Thank you, mo chroí. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”
Eiselle tore her gaze away from the baby, looking up at Bric and accepting his tender kisses of gratitude and adoration. But Keeva was lingering just behind them, interrupting their tender moment, although she was loathed to do it.
“Let me take the baby,” she said. “He must be cleaned up and swaddled, and mother must be returned to her bed. Let me take care of them, Bric. You have done your duty.”
Bric looked crestfallen. “But I want to stay.”
Keeva shook her head, pulling him away from Eiselle and the baby. “You may return in time,” she said. “But we must clean Eiselle up and put her to bed. She needs to rest now. You must go and tell the men that you now have a fine, strong son. You have received the greatest gift this night, Bric, and I am happy for you. So very happy.”
Even in the midst of his own delight, Bric took time for Keeva, realizing this was a moment she had always wanted to experience but never would. He kissed her on the cheek to thank her for everything she had done, leaving her with a smile as he headed down to the great hall to inform his friends that, indeed, his son had been born this night.
Conor Dashiell Bentley Sean Rhys de Gael MacRohan had finally made his grand entrance. And, no… he’d never considered shortening the name, not once.
There was much joy at Narborough that night as the birth of the High Warrior’s son spread among the men, and Bric brought out eight barrels of fine ale he’d purchased just for the occasion. As the night went on, men toasted the newest MacRohan son, offering their congratulations to the new father who prowled the grounds of Narborough that night as his wife slept, spending time with his men and drinking to Conor’s good health.
Towards the early morning, he finally returned to his chamber, fairly drunk, to find Eiselle awake, breastfeeding their son as Keeva stood by to lend a hand. But Keeva departed once Bric entered, leaving the new family alone, and Bric lay down on the bed beside his wife, his head on her shoulder as he watched her feed their son for the first time. If there was a heaven, he knew he’d found it.
It was the best moment of his life.
The little boy with the name longer than he was would go on to do great and heroic things, mentored by a father who had become a legend in his own time.
The High Warrior was, indeed, immortal.
* THE END *
Bric and Eiselle’s children:
Conor
Avaleen
Corey
Quinn
Kevin
Kira
For more information on other series and family groups, as well as a list of all of Kathryn’s novels, please visit her website at www.kathrynleveque.com.
About Kathryn Le Veque
Medieval Just Got Real.
KATHRYN LE VEQUE is a USA TODAY Bestselling author, an Amazon All-Star author, and a #1 bestselling, award-winning, multi-published author in Medieval Historical Romance and Historical Fiction. She has been featured in the NEW YORK TIMES and on USA TODAY’s HEA blog. In March 2015, Kathryn was the featured cover story for the March issue of InD’Tale Magazine, the premier Indie author magazine. She was also a quadruple nominee (a record!) for the prestigious RONE awards for 2015.
Kathryn’s Medieval Romance novels have been called ‘detailed’, ‘highly romantic’, and ‘character-rich’. She crafts great adventures of love, battles, passion, and romance in the High Middle Ages. More than that, she writes for both women AND men – an unusual crossover for a romance author – and Kathryn has many male readers who enjoy her stories because of the male perspective, the action, and the adventure.
On October 29, 2015, Amazon launched Kathryn’s Kindle Worlds Fan Fiction site WORLD OF DE WOLFE PACK. Please visit Kindle Worlds for Kathryn Le Veque’s World of de Wolfe Pack and find many action-packed adventures written by some of the top authors in their genre using Kathryn’s characters from the de Wolfe Pack series. As Kindle World’s FIRST Historical Romance fan fiction world, Kathryn Le Veque’s World of de Wolfe Pack will contain all of the great story-telling you have come to expect.
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Kathryn Le Veque, The Agents of William Marshal Volume I: A Medieval Romance Bundle
