Rise of the Defender (105 page)

     With that, she bade Dustin to drink a
nourishing concoction that tasted terrible, but settled her stomach and now
that the newness of the moment had passed, Dustin began to quiver as if
terribly cold and Griselda bundled her up in layers of coverlets and furs.

     Warm, bone-tired but elated, Dustin was
asleep before she even realized it.

***

     Christopher must have fallen asleep with
his head resting on his palm, because the next thing he knew, he heard David's
astonished voice and he shot out of his chair, instantly alert. It took him
absolutely no time at all to spy Griselda descending the stairs, a swaddled
bundle in her aged arms.

     Christopher felt his knees go weak, be it
because he rose too fast or because he was overcome with rampant emotion, he
wasn't sure. All he knew was that the old woman approaching him with a smile on
her face was cradling his child and he could not take his eyes off of the white
blankets.

     “Dustin?” he managed to croak.

     “Fine, my lord, fine as I told you she
would be,” Griselda replied. “And your daughter is a fine, healthy baby.”

    
Daughter.
He had a daughter.
Disappointment was non-existent as he timidly took the babe and gazed for the
first tune on the chubby, red face. At that very moment there were no possible
words to describe his emotions, for all that he seemed to be feeling was a peculiar
euphoria that filled his body like warm honey. He could only stand there and
stare at the miracle he and his wife had created, his gratitude for both lives
spared immense. When the baby stirred and made little sucking noises, he was
instantly, deeply, in love.

     The infant mewed like a kitten and the
entire roomful of men and vassals let out a collective sigh of approval, moving
forward to get a better look at the baby, but Christopher backed away from them
and shielded the baby's face with his free hand.

     “I shall not have you breathing on my
daughter like a pack of jackals.” he snapped, although it was done gently. He
then turned to the midwife. “She is fine? I mean, my daughter?”

     “Fine, fat and saucy,” Griselda nodded
confidently. “Look at her for yourself, baron, and see how large she is.”

     “I see,” he said softly, pushing a massive
finger into a tiny palm and being rewarded with a strong grip. He could not
stop himself from smiling broadly. David pushed forward, trying to peer into
the creases of the cloth and Christopher took mercy on the man. “See your
niece? Isn't she the most beautiful female you have ever seen?”

     “Aye, verily,” David agreed sincerely. “She
looks just like her mother.”

     Being reminded of Dustin again, Christopher
looked at Griselda. “I must see my wife now.”       

     “She’s sleeping, baron, and in good hands,”
the old woman assured him.” She will not know the difference if you spend a few
extra minutes admiring your daughter.”

     And admire he did. He crooned softly to the
infant, announcing with satisfaction that she opened one tiny eye when she
heard his voice. His knights had ignored his warning and were crowding around
anyway, so he threw back the folds of the blanket and displayed her quite
plainly for all to see and cherish. She was so very beautiful and perfect and
in all his life he had never known such pride.

     David was admiring her, too. But as he
admired his new little niece with pride, another sinister, darker emotion
entangled itself within the others and he uncomfortably shirked off the
jealousy he was feeling. Yet, as persistent as the rising sun, it bloomed
again, stronger than before and David took a step back, hoping the evidence of
his envy wasn't visible on his face.

     He took a good look at his brother, as
happy as he had ever seen him, yet there was more to it. There was a
contentment he had never seen before and suddenly, he was wildly jealous. His
brother had a beautiful wife, a daughter, a keep and loyal vassals. Once, David
fit into those plans but he suddenly felt like an outsider. For so long it was
only he and Christopher, against all others, but now he suddenly realized it
was he alone against all others. Christopher had changed before his eyes and he
had been left behind.

     There were no flaws to Christopher's and Dustin’s
marriage. They loved each other desperately, that was obvious. The only
negative intrusion had been that of Marcus Burton, and even that influence had
simply faded away. Aye, his brother and Dustin were stronger than ever, and
with the introduction of the baby, David's place in Christopher's life was
dissolved. He had been shoved aside and he knew it. The longer he looked at the
babe, the more consumed he became.

     “What are you planning to name her?” Leeton
asked, touching the silky skin.

     Christopher raised his eyebrows slowly.
“'Tis likely to create a bit of a problem for, you see, my wife selected only
one name. A male name, I have no idea if she had even considered a female
name.”

     Christopher caught sight of a figure
descending the stairs and looked up to see his sister. Her face was a mask of
thrilled astonishment as she saw what her brother held.

     “The baby!” she shrieked. “Dustin had her
baby. Oh, why didn’t anyone awaken me?”

     She rushed to Christopher, begging to hold
the infant and he reluctantly complied. She cooed and ogled and gushed,
declaring the babe to be the most beautiful one she had ever seen. Then, she
began calling the baby Curtis and Christopher stopped her.

     “It is a girl, Deborah,” he informed her.

     Deborah looked at him blankly for a second
before her face spread into the most marvelous smile. “A girl? Thank God. There
are too many men around here for my taste as it is.”

     They all snickered as Deborah kissed the
baby and told her over and over how very perfect she was. Christopher crossed
his arms across his weary body, simply content for the moment to watch his
daughter as she was admired by all. He felt as puffed-up as an arrogant
peacock, but as the seconds passed, his heart was being pulled to the second
floor bedchamber where his wife lay sleeping.

     The baby began to fuss and wail lustily and
Christopher was alarmed. “What's wrong? Why is she doing that?”

     “I am sure she is hungry, my lord,”
Griselda said. “I have seen to securing a wet nurse from the village so that
your wife may recover uninterrupted.”

     “That was wise,” Christopher agreed,
looking with concern on the red-faced babe. “Take her and make sure she is fed.
I would see to my wife now.”

     The midwife moved to take the baby but
Deborah begged to hold her just a bit longer. Christopher intervened. “Deborah,
soon you will have a squawking infant of your very own. Now, unhand my daughter
so that she might eat.”

     With a smile, his sister reluctantly handed
the child over.

     Dustin's room was dark except for the light
from the fire, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Christopher entered
quietly, waving away the maid who was sitting vigilantly by his sleeping wife.
The woman left the room quickly, leaving him alone with Dustin for the first
time in days.

     He moved around the bed and sat in the
great hide chair, removing his boots as quietly as possible. But his eyes, the
entire time, never left her face. She looked so entirely peaceful and beautiful
and it occurred to him that she wasn't snoring. Boots off, he removed his tunic
and leaned forward in the chair to tenderly stroke her head, knowing he should
not because it might disturb her, but wanting so desperately to touch her. His
love for his wife was so great it was more a part of him than his heart or his
brain, he knew he literally could not live without her.

     “So, coward, you come in when all of the
screaming and blood is vanished,” Dustin mumbled, her face half into her
pillow.

     He smiled, his hand caressing her head.
“You are supposed to be sleeping.”

     Her face was pale and there were dark
smudges under her eyes, but her beautiful smile lit up the room. “I could not.
Not until I saw you.”

     He took her hand and kissed it so
reverently that it brought tears to her eyes. “Did you see her?” she asked.

     His eyes were misty as well. “I did and she
is absolutely beautiful, as is befitting your daughter,” he whispered. “Thank
you, Dustin. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

     He kissed her hand again and she sobbed
softly, not bothering to wipe the tears away that were streaming down her
temples. “Lord God, I am tired. She was not easily born, Chris.”

     “I know.” He laid his cheek on her hand,
his eyes drinking in her face. “I suppose I am to blame for that. 'Tis my
tremendous size.”

     She shrugged. “As large as you are, I am
equally as small. I believe we are both to blame.”

     He smiled broadly and leaned forward to
deposit the sweetest of kisses on her lips. His forehead touched hers, his huge
hand still caressing her head and feeling her softness. He was content just to
feel her, touch her, know she had survived something as deadly as all of the
battles he had ever faced. His hands touched her face and he could still feel
her warm tears, and he kissed her entire face until all of the tears were but a
damp memory. Beneath his touch, Dustin sighed raggedly.

     “I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his
lips against her temple.

     Dustin burst into soft sobs again and he
shushed her gently, knowing how tired and emotionally drained she was. They
both were.

     “I think we have a problem,” he said after
a moment, trying to lighten the heady mood. “You selected only one name, a male
name. We certainly cannot name my beautiful daughter Curtis.”

     She blinked at him, sniffling. “'Tis true
that we cannot,” she answered hoarsely. “But I had selected a girl's name, as
well, only I wasn't going to tell you because I wanted the babe to be a boy so
badly.”

     His smile faded. “Are you disappointed,
then?”

     “Nay.” she insisted and he instantly
believed her. “How could I be? The moment I looked at her, I wanted her more
than any scruffy male child. She's so pink and perfect and…are you
disappointed?”

     “Perish the thought, Dustin,” he said with
soft sternness. “She is my daughter, my flesh and blood, and I love her more
than anything on this earth, other than you. I wouldn't take a son for her if
God himself marched into this room and proposed a trade.”

     She smiled faintly. “I am so glad. I know
that all men want sons and ....”

     “Not me,” he insisted. “I am perfectly
happy with a gorgeous daughter in the image of my gorgeous wife.”

     She put her arms around his neck and he
could feel for himself just how weak she was. She needed to sleep, and so did
he.

     “What is this name you have selected for
her?” he asked, unwinding her arms gently.

     She looked thoughtful. “I was hard-pressed
to think of the most wonderful name I could. Anne, Eleanor, Catherine are too
common and I do not like them. And since I have an uncommon name, I wanted our
daughter to have a beautiful and uncommon name, too.”

     “And?” he pressed.

     She smiled. “I wanted to name her after
you, and after me, so I put our names together. Her name will be Christin.
Christin Valeria de Lohr.”

     “Christin,” he repeated softly. “I like it
very much. 'Tis as fragile and feminine and perfect as she it. And Valeria
after my mother. Christ, I am lucky to have such a clever wife.” He leaned down
and kissed her loudly on the forehead.

     She smiled, her fatigue catching up with
her and her lids suddenly very heavy. He stroked her forehead. “Sleep now,
sweetheart. I shall not leave you.”

     She nodded feebly, trying to adjust her
sore body into a comfortable position. He thought upon sleeping next to her
this night, but he knew she was terribly stiff and he did not want his presence
impeding her. If she wanted to sleep crosswise on the bed because it was more
comfortable for her, then so be it.

     He settled back in the hide chair, his hand
resting on her arm, and lay his head back with a sigh of contentment. He stared
at the ceiling a moment, silently thanking God for his infinite mercy and the
blessings he had seen fit to bestow on him. Still touching his wife, he drifted
off into a dreamless sleep.

***

     Griselda stood like a silent guard as the
wet nurse fed the baron's new child, making sure all was well. When the infant
had eaten her fill and slept contentedly, she retrieved her and carried her
into the new nursery that had been decorated for her and her soon-to-arrive
cousin.

     She lay the babe down and re-swaddled the
wrappings, tightening them as she went. At one point a tiny hand found its way
out of the bindings and Griselda started to put it back when she noticed just
how small the hand was. The rest of the baby was large and she was healthy, but
her hands were tiny and wrinkled. Curious, Griselda undid the rest of the
blankets and examined the feet. They, too, were small in proportion to the size
of the body and wrinkled.