Dauntless by Tamara Leigh
Chapter Thirty-Three
Castle D’Argent upon Valeur
Was this God in His wisdom? Had He determined it best to deliver this babe a fortnight early while her husband was absent?
As Robine knew the day of conception, those first hours after middle night she had thought the cramping only of a womb preparing in advance for its great labor as done with her first babes, but then came a trickle of water and greater cramping.
She had awakened Paulette and instructed her to send for the midwife, rouse Lady Chanson, and move Guarin and Cyr to their grandmother’s chamber. As dawn remained distant, clearing the hall of those who made their beds there could wait until the labor began in earnest.
Sooner rather than later, Robine guessed as she suppressed a groan.
“Oui, the babe comes.” Hugh’s wife was so young, it was almost laughable it was she who rose from between heels dug into the mattress. Though her smile encouraged, Robine saw falsity about it.
Was it exaggeration Chanson was practiced in birthing? If the midwife did not arrive in time, would she be more hindrance than aid? Or had her gentle exploration revealed something amiss?
If anything, exaggeration, Robine sent heavenward. Already this child is disadvantaged. Let it be healthy and assured it shall have its mother’s love at least until it can stand well on its own feet.
“Certes, you know your body, my lady.” Chanson drew the blanket over Robine’s lower limbs and turned to the gathering of women whose anxious faces were visible amid torchlight that had displaced candlelight. “As this day the Lady of Valeur shall have another babe in arms, it is good she sent for the midwife.”
Gripping her hands at her waist, Lady Maëlys strode from the curtains to the young woman. “And should the midwife not arrive in time, Chanson?”
“Then your daughter has all of us to aid in delivering the Lord’s gift. Now we must prepare the chamber.”
“What is it you do not say?” Robine asked.
“Oui, speak it,” Maëlys commanded.
Hugh’s wife hesitated, turned to Robine. “The babe is breech, its head at the top of your womb rather than the bottom.”
Robine was not alone in catching her breath, the release of so many notes making fear sound almost musical.
“Though I have only assisted with such births,” Chanson continued, “I understand the danger they present and what is required to successfully deliver a babe, including turning it from the outside. I will attempt to do that, but let us pray the midwife arrives soon.”
She beckoned, and all gathered around the bed to set hands on the Lady of Valeur. However, their prayers were short-lived, a cramp causing Robine to bite her tongue in muffling a cry.
When the servants set about preparing for the birth, Lady Maëlys lowered beside her daughter-in-law and cupped her jaw. “Know you are not alone.”
She knew, and yet she felt mostly alone knowing Godfroi was not outside the curtains as he had been for the birth of their sons. Though with this babe, it was for the best, his absence felt a hole in her. “Do you think this the work of God, Mother? That my husband is absent when I birth another man’s child?”
Smile sorrowful, the lady said, “Only God knows, though had I to decide, I would have my son here since he must become a father to this child, and surely this is the place to begin.”
“I fear it would hurt him more.”
Maëlys sighed. “And yet, is it not the hard things overcome that most strengthen us?”
“If they can be overcome,” Robine whispered.
The woman raised her eyebrows. “Your husband, who strapped himself into a saddle to give aid to your family, overcomes what would put most men face down. Believe in him.”
Robine swallowed. “Oui, Mother.”
As the lady rose, another cramp caused Robine to capture her hand. “If I am lost to my family and the babe survives—”
“I will love the child for you, Daughter. And Godfroi will protect it.”
Robine’s tears were not all for the escalating cramp. They were for love of this woman who loved in return.
She was unaware Maëlys pulled free until she started down the other side of the cramp. Opening her eyes, she saw her mother-in-law advanced from the foot of the bed.
“This is the time to keep your other mother close,” she said and pressed the doll into Robine’s hand. “Now there is something I must tend to, but I shall return anon.”
Robine drew the doll to her chest, rasped, “I love you more than I can say.”
Maëlys smiled. “So you see, great the possibility of a child loving a parent not of her blood and a parent loving a child not of his blood.”
Though it seemed too great a hope Godfroi could love this child, Robine said, “So I see, Mother.”
“Good. Now rest.”
Robine lowered her lids and began to drift. But not for long.
* * *
Barony of Valeur
He had given his word.
Just as Godfroi would not have guessed what Baron L’Épée offered his daughter and the babe soon come into the world, he would not have guessed what was asked of this D’Argent. But desperate in death, the old man had sought and gained his son-in-law’s oath, then ordered a servant to carry him to the hall.
Barely able to sit, before witnesses that included his heir, his wife and the children made with her, and retainers, he had decreed his son-in-law would serve as advisor to the new Baron of Solitaire for five years, during which matters of defense and offense were to be approved by Godfroi.
There had been no need to look near upon Lady Delphine and the second son to know greatly they were disaffected. Instead, closely Godfroi had watched the heir whom Hugh had released from a cell beneath the hall.
Despite fouled garments and a cut and bruised face, whether from resisting or being made sport of by Fitz Géré and his men, Robine’s brother in full had not presented pitifully as more expected than not. Physically, he had matured since Godfroi last looked upon one said to have a greater interest in scholarly pursuits than those things out of which a warrior was fashioned.
Though years ago Robine had confided their stepmother had fostered her brother’s fascination for knowledge believed to be of little use on the training field, following the young man’s ordeal, he had presented more as a warrior than a man of books. Of course, that was aided by anger over betrayal and humiliation, none of which had seemed directed at the one given control over him to secure his birthright. Either he hid well his feelings for his sister’s husband, else unlike Godfroi, it was no great strain to set aside pride if it aided in keeping hold of his lands—lands that were now fully his, the old baron passing before he could return to his chamber.
The only change in the new lord’s demeanor had been a lessening of anger as if to make room for sorrow. He had been respectful to Godfroi and Hugh, and before their departure this morn expressed gratitude for the warriors left behind and sought counsel on how to contend with his stepmother’s betrayal.
The Convent, Hugh had answered for his brother, then urged his mount beneath the portcullis.
Godfroi had agreed that might prove best. However, because of fairly young half-siblings yet in need of a mother, he had advised the young man begin by weeding out those most loyal to Lady Delphine and distantly fostering the brother who was to have replaced him. As for establishing himself as the new baron, a strong marriage alliance was needed.
That last had caused Robine’s brother to rise above grief and, with a slight smile, reveal he had resisted betrothal since those ladies put forth were chosen by his stepmother.
When Godfroi told him to begin his own search and he would advise once there were several candidates, the young man had agreed, then been instructed to present at Castle D’Argent a sennight hence to further discuss all that must be done.
What Godfroi had not said was aid given his neighbor would benefit the D’Argents as well, especially since his own lordship had yet to fully recover from his absence and that the grasping perceived his infirmity as weakness ripe for exploitation. Just as the D’Argents were now the most valuable ally of the L’Épées, the L’Épées could become that to the D’Argents.
“Rider!” Hugh shouted of one kicking up dirt as he rode at them with the rising sun at his back.
The man came alone, and as he did so with urgency, greater Godfroi’s foreboding. Though he had left his home well defended, that was no guarantee enemies had not set themselves at his walls. But were that not the reason…
Recalling the sight of his heavily pregnant wife, Godfroi flicked the rod to urge his mount to greater speed.
“I bear tidings from your lady mother,” the messenger said when his liege and Hugh reined in.
“Speak,” Godfroi commanded.
The man cleared his throat. “Your wife labors, and it does not go well.”
Had Godfroi jerked, he would have thought his heart impaled sternum to spine. The child came early, but surely a good thing since babes born a few weeks before term were more easily birthed for being smaller.
“What know you of it?” he asked.
“Regrets, my lord. That is all I was told—and that you should make haste.”
Lest Robine was lost to him and what was unspoken remained unspoken.
As Godfroi led the way on a ride more jarring for the need to reach home quickly, he struggled against anger at the child whose attempt to enter the world threatened to take from him one he should never have loved. But in spite of all—wrongs his side and hers—he loved Robine. Hence, there were things she needed to know, including what her sire had gifted her ere his passing.
My grandchild will need a good name for the hard life ahead, he had said, and more imperative if it is a boy. Tell my daughter if she wishes and you agree, it should bear my Christian name.”