CHAPTER NINETEEN
Early October
Year of our Lord 1192 A.D.
It was the moment they had been waiting for.
Kieran was in the solar with Andrew when the cry from the sentries went up. The brothers looked at one another and, in a rush, sprinted to the front door and took the old, wooden stairs leading down to the bailey much too fast. Kieran, in fact, nearly tripped over his brother when Andrew stumbled at the bottom. Slapping his youngest brother on the back of the head, he pushed past Andrew and met Sean as the man entered the bailey on his sweating charger.
The day was cool and crisp but the weather had been unseasonably dry. At mid-afternoon, gray clouds were beginning to gather overhead but they didn’t smell of rain. It was simply gloomy. As Sean reined his red charger into the bailey of Southwell, the beast kicked up clods of dirt against Andrew’s legs.
“So you have decided to come home, have you?” Kieran teased the man as he climbed off the horse. “It has been so long that your daughter believes I am her father. Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”
Sean had been in London for four months, completing his tasks for de Longchamp. Kieran knew the man brought the very latest news with him but they spared a moment for pleasantries. Sean flipped up his visor, grinning at his brother.
“While you stay here warm and cozy in Mother’s bosom, some of us are actually concerned with the direction of the country,” he teased in return. “We must discuss the most important items first; are you a father yet?”
Kieran lifted an eyebrow but his smile grew. “Dear God, nay,” he shook his head. “Libby is ready to explode. I have never seen anyone so miserable.”
Sean laughed. “Well do I remember that wait, old man. Is she well?
“She is marvelous. But she cries at the change of the hour and is generally miserable. Sitting is uncomfortable and walking is exhausting, so these past few weeks have been long and weary.”
Sean clapped him on the shoulder. “Take heart,” he assured Kieran. “It shall be over soon.”
Kieran nodded his head in a weary gesture as Andrew joined them. Now that the pleasantries were over, they focused on the news Sean bore.
“What is the latest from London?” Kieran lowered his voice as they made their way towards the keep.
Sean began removing his gloves. “As we had hoped,” he said. “Richard is on his way home. The last word we had, he was leaving Corsica. That was two weeks ago. God willing, he should be in home in a month.”
Kieran was silent a moment, thinking of what he knew; that Richard would be taken hostage before he could make it home. He would have to discuss it with Rory to see what the timeline was for the occurrence, but from what she had told him, it was sometime before Christmas of this year. He was edgy as he thought on it, wondering for the hundredth time if he shouldn’t have sent his own men to Richard to escort the king home by a different route. But Rory wouldn’t let him do it. She was fearful of the course such action would take. Would it alter history enough to the point where she would vanish? It was her increasing fear, altering the natural course of history to the point where she would have never been born. Kieran had to agree; he didn’t want to upset the balance, either. As much as he loved his king, he would rather have his wife alive and by his side.
“Richard will be going to his holdings in France,” Andrew broke into his thoughts. “He will not be coming back to London.”
Kieran nodded. “Aye, he will,” he replied confidently. “He knows that his brother thirsts for his throne. When Richard arrives on English soil, we must be prepared to fight for him.”
Andrew snorted. “Why?” he shook his head. “He will not kill his brother. He may imprison the man, but he will not kill him. We will be fighting a fool’s war.”
“We will be fighting the king’s war,” Kieran reminded him. “Think of the alternative. If John gains control of this country, all we know and love will be lost. It would not do well for our family.”
Andrew pursed his lips, nodding reluctantly at what he knew was the truth. Over the past several months, John’s campaign against the Hages had increased substantially. It all centered around the Crown of Thorns, something John coveted greatly but Jeffrey held fast to. Because of John’s propaganda, the Holy Church had found out about the relic and now they, too, were demanding it be turned over to them. Jeffrey, still weak from the wound that had almost claimed him those many months ago, swore he would take it to Canterbury himself when he was well enough. But that time had not yet come and the Church was increasingly impatient. Meanwhile, John hadn’t forgotten about it; he wanted that crown with a seething envy. Knowing this, the Hages had become increasingly guarded against John’s supporters. All Hage lands were now heavily patrolled and protected.
“So what do we do?” Andrew finally asked. “Do we just wait for Richard’s return?”
“For now,” Sean said. He was weary from his time away from home and was increasingly focused on seeing his wife and child. “De Longchamp told me to come home. He will be paying us a visit soon, as will many other of the king’s supporters. They will want to council with Kieran and Father.”
Kieran remained silent on the matter, his mind turning to the events he knew were going to happen. He wondered if it was wise for him to sit in council with de Longchamp. As the three brothers neared the keep entry, Christian suddenly appeared in the doorway and threw his arms around Sean, picking the man up and shaking him.
“Great Gods, Christian,” Sean grunted as his happy brother set him to his feet. He slugged Christian in the chest. “The last time you did that, you cracked two of my ribs.”
Christian beamed. “I was hoping to beat my record,” he said, rubbing the spot where Sean hit him. “Father heard the sentries. He wants to see you right away.”
Sean nodded wearily. “Can I at least see my wife first?”
As if she heard him, Margaret came barreling down the spiral stairs with little Eleanor in her arms. Squealing with delight, she threw herself into her husband’s arms, weeping and laughing happily. Kieran smiled as he watched the exchange when another vision on the stairs caught his attention. Looking up, he found himself gazing into the face of an angel.
Rory was moving down the stairs far more slowly. In a voluminous, white gown made from soft wool that was gathered just underneath her breasts, she did, indeed, look like an angel. Long sleeves trailed well past her hands and her enormous belly was evident. Kieran went to the steps, helping her down the last few. As was usual when Kieran came within close proximity to her, he put his hand on her belly and kissed her forehead. He always had his hands on her belly, as if they were magnetically joined.
“Sean has returned safely,” he told her. “He brings news.”
Rory was one of those women who truly had the pregnancy glow. She was round-cheeked and rosy, and Kieran fell more deeply in love with her every time he saw her. She had the biggest belly he had ever seen, however, but Kaleef assured him that the pregnancy was progressing nicely. Still, she was miserable and he sympathized with her a great deal. He had turned into what he had once accused her of being; a coddling mother. He coddled her, catered to her and loved her like no husband ever had or could.
Rory knew how fortunate she was and she thanked God every day for the man. He was amazing. But having spent the past two hours trying to take a nap, she was not in a particularly good mood as she accepted his kiss. She was exhausted and grumpy, and completely non-sociable. She eyed Sean.
“I’ll bet he has news and probably not good news, either,” she muttered, crabby as hell, watching the man get reacquainted with his daughter. “But I’m glad he made it home all right. Oh, God, I have the worst heartburn. I feel like my throat is on fire.”
Kieran put his arm around her shoulders. “Let us go and sit down. Sean can tell us about his trip.”
She shook her head, the familiar pout coming to her lips. “I don’t want to sit down.” She suddenly fanned herself furiously. “I’m having hot flashes, too. I need to go outside and get some air before I burst into flame.”
Kieran dutifully escorted her to the door, taking her out onto the landing outside. But she wanted to go down into the bailey so he carefully escorted her down to the dirt. Once in the brisk air, she stood there a moment and breathed deeply. Kieran stood next to her, watching her with a faint smile on his lips.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded. Her luscious hair was pulled to the nape of her neck, a lovely ponytail hanging down her back. She looked so sweet and angelic and he was captivated. But she spoiled the vision by belching.
“Oh, God,” she breathed again, putting a hand to her chest and burping most unladylike. “I just want this to be over with.”
Kieran’s smile broke through. “Kaleef says that Tevin should come any day now,” he assured her. “It will be over soon.”
She looked up at him. “And that’s another thing,” she said, her eyes suddenly filling up with tears. “There’s no hospital or doctor or anything even remotely modern. I’ve got to have my baby in that stupid castle with some alchemist as my doctor. I’d do better with a witchdoctor. What happens if something goes wrong? What are we going to do?”
Kieran heard this same worry every other day. He, too, was terrified by the thought but there wasn’t much either of them could do about it. “Would you rather have the midwife from town?” he asked.
She shook her head vigorously. “No,” she replied flatly, wiping her eyes. “Kaleef is more knowledgeable. I don’t want that crazy old woman touching me; she burns sage to ward off the evil spirits of death.”
She wriggled her fingers dramatically as she spoke the last few words and he struggled not to grin. “She has a solid reputation for bringing mother and child through unscathed,” he said evenly. “She delivered Sean’s child without incident.”
Rory sneered at him. “It’s Maggie’s child.”
Kieran didn’t want to get into an argument with her. He went to put his arms around her to offer some comfort but she pushed him away.
“Don’t touch me,” she scolded. “You’re too hot and I’m burning up already.”
“You are a cruel woman, Lady Hage, denying my affections.”
“It’s not your affections I’m denying but your body heat.”
He couldn’t help it; he snorted. “You like it well enough when our chamber is freezing and you put your cold feet on my legs.”
She made such a face at him that he burst out laughing. Rory grinned reluctantly and fell against him in spite of her recent objections. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.
“I want to walk around,” she told him. “Kaleef said that can help the labor get started.”
He nodded, taking her hand. “Very well. Let us walk.”
So they did. Around and around and around in the bailey. Bud and David, who now had a permanent home upon the battlements with the sentries and the dogs, saw them walking around and came to join them. Both boys had learned a great deal of English over the past several months and could converse quite well in the language. David took Rory’s free hand as they continued their walk around the bailey while Bud walked behind them with his very own greyhound puppy.
Rory listened while Kieran kept up a running chatter about the trip he would like to take in the summer when the baby was old enough. He wanted to take her on a tour of his castles to the north so she could see his holdings. She knew he was talking simply to keep her mind off her misery but it wasn’t working; her ankles were swollen, her back was killing her, and the baby was sitting so low in her pelvis that it was agony simply to move. To make matters worse, she had trouble breathing when she lay down because the child was so big that he pushed on her diaphragm. All in all, she would be glad when it was over. But she was terrified for the event itself.
It wasn’t labor that scared her so much; she wasn’t particularly afraid of the pain. She was afraid of the lack of medical knowledge in case she or the baby went into distress. She glanced at Kieran as he spoke of Peveril Castle. She was afraid for him most of all. She didn’t know what would become of the man if something happened to her. They were so attached to each other that she feared for his very life if she were to perish in childbirth. It was something that had been haunting her for a while now. As Bud’s greyhound suddenly bounded off and the boys went in hot pursuit, she took the opportunity to bring the subject up.
Kieran was watching Bud trap the dog as David tried to grab it. He snorted his approval. “Bud is an intelligent boy,” he said, gesturing to the pair. “He cornered the dog so his brother could get hold of the leash.”
Rory watched the boys, hands to her back as she tried to support her aching muscles. “He’s always shown a lot of intelligence,” she said, eyeing him. “In fact, I was thinking something about the boys.”
He was still watching them. “What about them?”
“I was thinking we could adopt them.”
He looked at her. “Adopt them? You mean as our own?”
She nodded. “Why not? They’re like family, anyway. Why can’t they become our sons?”
His brow furrowed. “Because they are servants, Libby. You cannot make a prized stallion out of a donkey.”
Her mouth flew open in outrage. “That’s a horrible thing to say,” she hissed. “They’re intelligent, bright boys and I love them. I want to be their mother which means that you are going to be their father.”
She emphasized the “you” by jabbing her finger at him. Kieran found himself backing down from another argument. At this point in her pregnancy, her mood swings could be so severe that she would take a dagger to him if she didn’t like his attitude. So he nodded his head, putting up his hands in surrender.
“Very well, sweetheart,” he said with veiled impatience. “Do not trouble yourself. Let us speak more about it after the baby is born. Agreed?”
She was still frowning, rubbing her back furiously. “There’s nothing to discuss. I want to adopt them.”
“Whatever you wish, sweet.”
Satisfied, she resumed walking, her hands on her back. Kieran walked next to her, noticing that she was seriously working her back muscles. He was about to ask her if she was doing well when she interrupted his thoughts.
“There’s something else I want to talk to you about,” she said.
He nodded. “Of course. What is it?”
She paused a moment as they passed by the northeast tower, the one tower of the bailey that didn’t have a city butting up against it. It was such a massive tower that it held the armory among other smaller rooms. The puppy suddenly zinged passed them, followed closely by Bud and David, and they watched as the boys chased the dog into the stable area.
“I guess they didn’t catch the dog after all,” she commented.
Kieran grunted. “Apparently the dog is the more intelligent of the three.”
She grinned, eyeing him as they continued to walk. “I want you to promise me something,” she said.
“Anything.”
She paused and turned to look at him. “I want you to promise me that if something happens to me in this birth that you won’t waste your life grieving.” She was suddenly very serious. “You and I have something that no one else has ever had; a love that has carried us through time and history. Nothing can separate us but death. If that happens, I want you to promise me that you won’t grieve forever. I want you to live and love again. I want you to be happy again.”
He gazed back at her, unable to stomach the thought of losing her. He was prepared to give her a glib answer but he couldn’t muster the strength. Instead, morose thoughts swamped him and he shook his head, averting his gaze.
“I do not want to discuss this,” he said, moving away from her as if to resume their walk. “You are going to be fine and my son will be fine. There is nothing to worry over.”
She watched him walk away and slowly began to follow. “I’m sure there isn’t but, just in case, I want you to promise me that you won’t throw yourself on your sword in grief. Please?”
He just shook his head and continued walking. Rory picked up the pace but as she did so, the painful muscles in her back suddenly radiated through her belly. It wasn’t a strong pain but it was different from what she had been feeling lately. She paused, feeling the pain radiate down her thighs before fading and she wondered if it wasn’t the start of something. The Braxton-Hicks contractions she’d had for the past month had felt different. They had almost been unnoticeable but for a tightening around her belly. But these were different.
Excitement and terror filled her. Suspecting that the walking was doing its job, she caught up to her husband and they walked for another hour.
*
By midnight, Rory was in the full throes of labor. The long and tedious wait for the child was in full swing.
Margaret never left Rory’s side. Her labor had been very different. She had spent nearly two days in bed laboring to bring forth little Eleanor. The midwife from town wouldn’t let her get out of bed, so there was no walking around as Rory was doing. More than that, Sean stayed in the solar downstairs with his brothers and his father while the women did the work upstairs. It was considered unseemly for a man to be with his laboring wife. But Rory had insisted Kieran remain with her early on and, not wanting to upset her, Kieran had stayed. Even now, well after midnight, he walked with his laboring wife around the fourth floor, trying to keep her calm.
Rory was calm enough but her pains were growing worse. She refused to sit down because it hurt so much with the baby pressing down, so she walked the floor and grunted when the contractions would hit. Margaret sat and watched nervously while Kaleef brewed something in a cast iron pot that hung from an arm over the fire. Over the past several months, he had collected a variety of herbs and flowers in preparation for this moment, knowing he would be called upon to ease Lady Hage’s labor pains. He was prepared.
“Libby,” Margaret said timidly. She had long since become familiar with Rory and they were good friends. “That pain was close upon the heels of the previous one. Perhaps you should lay down now.”
“Not yet,” Kaleef said steadily. “It is not time yet.”
Rory growled with frustration. “How do you know?” she fired at him. “How do you know anything? Have you ever had a baby before?”
Kieran had her by the arm. “Come along, sweetheart,” he tried to get her moving. “It would not do to kill Kaleef before the baby is born. We need him.”
“Oh, shut up,” she growled at him, taking a few steps. Then she suddenly stopped and her eyes watered. “Can you please rub my back? It hurts so bad that I can’t stand it.”
“Of course, sweetheart. Let us go and lie down.”
He took her over to the bed and helped her to lie down. Rory rolled on her left side, curling up as much as her colossal belly would allow, as Kieran got into bed beside her and began rubbing her lower back. When another contraction hit, he paused, feeling her entire body tighten and closing his eyes at the pain she was surely experiencing. But he resumed rubbing, leaning over to kiss her head now and again, thinking he would much rather be downstairs with his father and brothers. As much as he loved Rory, this process was terrifying and foreign. More than that, he just couldn’t stand to see her in so much pain.
It grew worse when she began to softly weep as the contractions grew stronger. She never uttered anything louder than a quiet grunt, but he could tell her pain was growing severe. He continued in back-rubbing mode for quite some time, kissing her tenderly on the temple and hoping to give her some comfort. Margaret retrieved a moist cloth and wiped Rory’s face to keep her comfortable while Kieran continued to rub until his hands were ready to fall off. Rory lay unmoving, rolling with the contractions, until shortly before dawn, she let out a loud gasp.
“Oh, my God,” she rolled onto her back. “There’s so much pressure in my pelvis that I can’t stand it.”
Kaleef suddenly stood up from his stool. “It is time,” he announced, hobbling over to the bed. “My lord, you will leave. Let us do our work.”
Rory clamped down on Kieran’s hand. “No way,” she exclaimed. “He’s not going anywhere.”
Kieran put a big hand on her forehead. “Have no fear,” he murmured. “I will not leave.”
Rory smiled wearily at him and he kissed her gently. “I am anxious to meet Tevin,” he whispered. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, puffing out her cheeks. “I’m ready.”
Margaret helped her lift her knees and pulled up her damp shift, exposing Rory from the waist down. Kieran may have been willing to stay with his wife but he was unwilling to watch the birth of his son. He held Rory’s hand but kept his attention on her face, not wanting to see the great mysteries of life going on below her waist. As a particularly strong pain gripped Rory, Kaleef and Margaret could see the top of a dark, little head struggling to make its way into the world.
“He is coming, Libby!” Margaret cried excitedly. “When you feel another pain, push hard!”
She did. Another pain hit her and Rory nearly folded herself in half pushing the baby forth. Kieran put his arm behind her back, supporting her as she struggled. Rory pushed as hard as she could, never uttering more than a weak grunt as she worked. Between her legs, Kaleef grabbed hold of the dark head to help.
“Push hard, my lady,” he commanded. “Push!”
Rory obeyed. It was significantly easier with Kieran’s support on her back and Rory grabbed her knees, pulling them up to her chest and struggling to bring forth her child. She was nearly bent in two. The pain was intense but she worked through it, focused on freeing the baby from her body. She was almost finished and that knowledge renewed her spirit. She wanted to see her baby as badly as Kieran did.
But it wasn’t an instantaneous process. Unfortunately, an hour of pushing barely moved the child and Kaleef was doing everything he could to help the baby come forth. He was beginning to suspect there was a problem but he didn’t want to alarm Kieran or his wife. He kept encouraging Lady Hage to push and she did, but she was growing exhausted. At some point, Kieran’s head came up from where he was huddled against his wife’s head and his eyes found Kaleef. The old man saw terror there, coming from the bravest man he had ever known, and it prompted him into action. He didn’t say a word as he wedged his fingers into Rory’s body, hoping to get a better grip on the baby’s head and help pull him free.
Rory gasped when the old man put his fingers into her, crying out in pain when the pressure became unbearable. Kieran gripped her tightly as she yelped, feeling more terror than he had ever known. He could see that Kaleef was doing something to her but he didn’t want to look too closely; he really didn’t want to know. All he knew was that Rory was in extreme pain, the child seemed to be stuck, and Kaleef was attempting to solve the situation. Finally, the old man looked up from what he was doing and focused on Rory.
“My lady,” he said grimly. “With your next pain, you must push as hard as you can and do not stop. The child is wrapped up in himself and he must come forth or he will die.”
Rory’s eyes flew open wide, horrified at the assessment. But the moment the next pain hit, she let out a yell and pushed as hard as she could. With Kaleef pulling, the child slipped forward. Rory didn’t stop pushing but she was growing weak. Her strength was waning and soon, she wouldn’t be able to push at all. Kaleef knew this; he did what he had to do. He beseeched Kieran.
“Put your hand on the top of her belly and push,” he commanded. “Do it now!”
Kieran was terrified but he did as he was told. He put his hand on her belly just below the ribcage and pushed strongly. The action helped Rory a great deal and she took another deep breath, pushing through a pain that seemed continuous. Kaleef pulled and adjusted the baby and, just when Rory was out of strength, the baby suddenly slipped out.
Rory collapsed in Kieran’s arms, gasping for air. But she wasn’t so out of it that she didn’t realize the baby wasn’t crying.
“The baby!” she gasped. “Is he okay?”
Kieran was close to panic as he watched Kaleef work on the child at the end of the bed. Margaret stood next to him, handing him linen towels, her eyes swimming with tears. If Kieran had believed Margaret’s expression, then he would have thought his child to be dead. He couldn’t take the silence.
“Kaleef,” he said hoarsely. “The child…?”
Kaleef suddenly picked up the baby and, with a hand holding the baby by the ribcage, patted him strongly on the back. The baby let out a thin wail and Rory burst into tears.
“Is he okay?” she begged her husband, tears streaming down her temples. “Tell me!”
Kaleef lay the baby down on the bed and ran a brisk hand over its feet. The baby’s cries picked up and it began to wail lustily. Rory’s weeping increased as the baby’s grew louder.
“You have,” the old man wiped the child off with some warm water that Margaret provided, “the largest baby I have ever seen. No wonder it was such a difficult birth; the size is astonishing.”
“Is it male?” Kieran was still in panic mode although it was beginning to occur to him that an unhealthy child would probably not be screaming so loudly.
Kaleef suddenly lifted the baby up, showing the red, screaming face to the worried parents. “It is,” he announced. “Congratulations on your enormous son.”
Rory lifted her arms up and wrapped them around Kieran’s neck. He buried his face in her neck, silent tears of joy and relief pouring from his eyes. After a moment, he pulled back, kissing her furiously over her face and lips.
“He is well,” he reassured her over and over. “Do not be troubled any longer; he is well.”
Rory gazed into his eyes, wiped the tears from his face. “I think you’re more worried than I am,” she laughed as she put her hands on his damp cheeks, returning his sweet kisses. “I want to hold him.”
Kieran looked at Kaleef and Margaret. “My wife wants to hold our son,” he announced. “Hurry and give him to her before she snatches him herself.”
By this time, Margaret had the baby and was cleaning him up for presentation to his parents. Kaleef was busy delivering the afterbirth, which Rory could feel but wasn’t particularly pained with. She was more interested in getting her hands on her son. Margaret finished with the snug swaddling and brought him over, smiling as she extended him to Rory.
“He is so beautiful, Libby,” she said softly. “He looks a great deal like his father.”
Rory accepted the baby, cradling him against her bosom and getting her first look at his little face. He was pinched and red, and had an enormous cone head, but he was absolutely gorgeous. She started crying all over again. Kieran hovered over the two of them, his arms around her, pulling back the swaddling so he could get a better look at his son’s face.
“God help us,” he murmured lightly. “He looks just like my father.”
Rory giggled through her tears, touching the baby’s face, being rewarded with fussing and weak cries. “He’s perfect,” she whispered, opening up the swaddling more so that she could count his fingers and toes. “Look at his hands; they’re so beautiful.”
Kieran had moved beyond his emotional outburst and was now utterly fascinated by the boy in front of him. Never in his life had something meant so much to him; he couldn’t put the moment into words. The love that he felt for Rory had come to fruition and the result was living and breathing in front of him. Little Tevin Jeffrey Lucas Hage was easily close to ten pounds, a very big and fat baby that had his parents absolutely enamored. Kieran knew, as he watched the red little face, that he had been given the most precious gift in the world. Perhaps this was why he and Rory had been returned to his time. Perhaps it all centered around little Tevin, the child who, in theory, should have never been born.
Kieran left his wife and son sleeping soundly as he went down to the solar where they were already celebrating Tevin’s birth. Jeffrey was so thrilled to have a grandson to carry on the Hage name that he became ragingly drunk and passed out just before noon. But Kieran stayed awake with his brothers, with Yusef, discussing plans for the future as well as running trivial subjects around the table. It didn’t matter what they talked about; all that mattered was that life went on at Southwell as a healthy heir was born.
Kieran even brought Bud and David into the hall and gave them both a cup of wine to celebrate the birth of their baby brother. He knew he would be their father eventually. Gazing into their big blue eyes and intelligent faces, he realized he wasn’t all that distressed about it. He loved them as Rory did.
Sometime around dusk, he made his way wearily back to his fourth floor chamber only to find Rory sitting up, nursing Tevin. Margaret was with her, helping her with the baby, but she quickly fled when she saw Kieran. With an exhausted smile, Kieran stretched out on the bed next to them, watching the baby tug at his wife’s full breast and never in his life experiencing something so tender or emotional. It was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen.
When she began singing softly to him in her sweet, pure voice, his emotions got the better of him and tears streamed down his temples as he watched the baby nurse.
“If I give my heart to you
I must be sure
From the very start
That you would love me more than her
’cause I couldn’t stand the pain
and I would be sad if our new love was in vain.”
He fell asleep with his arms around them both.