Ruins of Camelot (15 page)

She beat the dirt of the grave over and over again as she shouted.  The carpet of dead leaves scattered beneath the onslaught.  The spade scarred and tore at the earth as Gabriella swung it.  Finally, exhausted and sweating, she dropped the spade and fell to her hands and knees, panting, her face wet with tears.  The baby fluttered inside her, as if alarmed at the rush of emotion and activity.

"You took her from me," she breathed harshly.  The strength fled her, and she fell back onto her haunches, cradling her face in her hands.  She sobbed, suddenly and deeply, because she realised that she was not, in fact, talking about Rhyss.  The death of her best friend was merely the catalyst, opening a much older, much more deeply buried lament of loss.

The tears racked her body, and this time, she let them come.  She wailed to herself helplessly, like a baby.  Finally, after several minutes, she pushed herself upright.  Feeling hollow and washed out, she looked back over the cemetery, towards the larger gravestones that lined the front.

"She was my mother…," she said weakly, speaking no longer to the unmarked graves and rustling dead leaves, speaking in a voice that only she and God could hear.  "She was my mother… and You took her from me."

G
abriella had fully expected the baby to wait until his father's return.  There was no rationale for it apart from a deep hope and a sense of the way things ought to be.  Unfortunately, as she was quickly learning, life rarely corresponded to what was expected from it.

She began feeling the unmistakable
signs
of labour at breakfast a week before the Army's predicted return.  The
pangs
were faint but regular.  When Sigrid suggested she retire to the chamber designated as the lying-in room, located conveniently on the main floor, Gabriella declined.

"It's nothing," she announced, pushing herself out of her chair.  "The midwife predicted there might be false signs that the baby was ready.  Come, let us take our walk as usual."

Sigrid agreed but kept a sharp eye on Gabriella.  They had barely entered the covered bridge that led into the rose garden when the first hard
spasm
struck.  Gabriella bent forwards and clutched the bridge railing, pressing a hand to her belly.

"Princess," Sigrid said, grabbing her elbow, "it is time."

"It's not," Gabriella insisted faintly, still bent over.  "It cannot be."

"It certainly can.  Guard!  Help Her Highness back to the castle.  Quickly."

Gabriella felt
practically
carried along, supported on one side by Sigrid, on the other by Treynor, the guard who had been accompanying her since she'd been a child.  His short beard bristled as he frowned, full of solemn purpose.

"One would think, Treynor," Gabriell
a commented between spasms
, "that it was your own daughter preparing to give birth."

Treynor glanced at her as they whisked her into the castle
, his face etched with concern and surprise
.  "You are the Princess, Your Highness," he answered seriously.  "You are the Kingdom's daughter."

The lying-in room was a spacious bed chamber near the entrance hall.  A fire burnt in the hearth despite the morning's warmth.  The midwife, a woman named Alianor, was already there, her forearms bare and scrubbed in preparation.  She met Gabriella at the door, apparently already aware of her state.

"Leave her," she said to Treynor.  "Have Daphne bring us a pot of water from the kitchens.  Sigrid, place it on the fire when it arrives."

Gently, Alianor led Gabriella to the bed, which was luxuriously made with the best linens and a carefully arranged stack of down pillows.

"Up you go," she instructed Gabriella, helping her onto the wooden steps next to the bed as if she were a young child.  "You just settle yourself right there on the bed, that's a lass.  H
ow much time between birth pain
s?"  This last, she addressed to Sigrid.

"Twenty breaths
.  Perhaps
a bit more
," Sigrid replied, rolling up her own sleeves.  "Coming quicker each time."

The two women moved busily about the bed, adjusting the coverlet and pillows and arranging Gabriella into the proper position.

"It's too early," Gabriella said, shaking her head.  "He cannot come so soon."

"That decision is between God and your baby, dear," Alianor replied.  "All we can do is play along.  Ready?"

Gabriella frowned.  Her face was already glistening with the heat of the room and
the exertion of the spasm
s.  "Ready for what?"

"Why, to push, my dear.  Your time of breeding is nearly done.  The baby will soon enter the world."

Gabriella shook her head again and opened her mouth to protest, but another
birth pain
struck, tensing her belly and drawing her chin towards her knees.

"Unngh!" she groaned helplessly.  "It hurts!"

"Of course it does, Princess," Sigrid smiled, suddenly beside her and taking her hand.  "Nothing good comes without pain.  But you can withstand it.  It is what mothers do."

Gabriella nodded, realising there was no way to stop what was happening.  The
spasms
came quicker, harder.

"Push, Princess!  Push!" Alianor commanded, preparing to receive the baby when it came.

Gabriella pushed.  Sweat sprang out on her brow and trickled into her eyes.  The pain was monumental, dampened only by the knowledge that it would all be over soon, in the next few minutes, one way or another.

"Something is wrong," Sigrid said softly, almost to herself.  She let go of Gabriella's hand as the young woman flopped back against her pillows, panting in
the respite between birth pains
.  Sigrid moved next to Alianor.

"What is it?" she asked in a low voice.

Alianor touched Gabriella's belly, felt it with her palms.  "Breech perhaps," she answered quickly.  "
More likely
the cord is wrapped around the child."

"What's wrong?" Gabriella breathed, barely hearing.  "What's happening with my baby?"

"Hush, child," Alianor instructed.  "Don't you worry."

With that, she pushed on the side of Gabriella's distended belly, using both hands, as if attempting to shift the baby inside by brute force.  Gabriella let out a cry of alarm.

"He's moving!" she exclaimed fearfully.  "You're making him move!  What's wrong?"

Alianor shook her hea
d.  She, too, was sweating
.  Curls of hair had come loose from her bonnet and stuck to her forehead.

Gabriella lunged forwards again as another
spasm
took hold of her.

"Push now, daughter," Alianor said hoarsely.  "Push as hard as you can."

The world went grey around Gabriella as she tensed every muscle in her body.  She clenched both her eyes
and her teeth.  The tension gripped her belly for what seemed
an eternity, and then, finally, it faded.

"The baby wants to come," Alianor said, arming sweat from her brow.  "Something is keeping it.  There's nothing we can do now but pray and hope."

"You hope," Sigrid answered, moving to the window.  In one swift motion, she stripped the curtains back, letting in the breeze and the morning sunlight.  "Daphne, open those cupboards by the door.  And the drawers of the wardrobe."

Daphne moved quickly, apparently glad of something to do.  "What are we looking for, Miss?"

"We're not looking for anything," Sigrid answered evenly.  "Just open them.  Open everything you can find.  Treynor!"

The door cracked ajar immediately.  "Yes, Sigrid?" the man answered from without.

"Send a guard out to the courtyard.  Instruct him to fire a single red-feathered arrow into the air."

To his credit, Treynor did not question this order.  "One arrow only?"

"Yes.  Just make sure he does not accidentally kill any of the stable boys.  We do not wish to end one life in the hopes of beginning another."

The door clunked shut.  An instant later, Treynor's muffled voice could be heard relaying the order.

"Now," Sigrid said, returning to Gabriella's side, "we have done everything we can do.  The symbols are in order.  The prayers have been said.  The rest, Princess, is up to you.  Bear your boy child so that his face may greet your husband upon his returning."

Gabriella nodded weakly.  A minute of calm passed.  Then the next
birth pain
began to coil within her, spreading its tentacles around her belly and grabbing hold of her spine.  It struck.  She pushed.

"He comes!" Sigrid cried out, squeezing Gabriella's hand.  "Do not stop now!  Your baby comes!"

Gabriella felt it.  She let out a low wail of exertion and pain.  Alianor moved industriously.  Finally, after what seemed to be hours, there came a flood of blissful relief, a relaxation that was nearly heaven.  And then, out of the hot silence, a tiny voice cried out.

"Your child is indeed a boy," Alianor announced, her own face flush with relief.  She cleaned him quickly and gently with Daphne's help and wrapped him in fresh linen.

Gabriella held her hands out, weak and exhausted, shaking with spent energy.  "Give him to me," she said.

Alianor laid the child in his mother's arms.  He cried for a moment, blinking in awe at the suddenly huge world that surrounded him.  Gabriella smiled helplessly at him as she cradled him.

"He's beautiful," Sigrid announced, laying her hand gently over the boy's brow.  "Well done, Gabriella.  Well done to both of you."

Alianor mopped her forehead with a cloth and sighed happily.  "What is his name, Your Highness?"

Gabriella glanced up at the midwife thoughtfully and then looked down at her son.  He stopped crying as his cheek pressed against her chest, as if he was listening.  Of course he was.  He'd been hearing her heart beating for the past nine months.  It was the most comforting sound in the world to him.

"I don't know," she said, and laughed wearily.  "I had not decided.  It is not a mother's decision alone.  His father will help."

Sigrid accepted this patiently.  "What shall we call him until then?"

Gabriella smiled at her baby.  "Call him what he is," she answered.  "Call him… the Little Prince."