The Gorgon (51 page)

"I do not know why we are
acting as if something terrible has happened," he grumbled, though he knew
very well the reason. "The child is fine, as is the mother. Moreover, it
was Lady de Moray's demand that we not send word of the birth for fear that
Bose would kill himself in his desperate attempt to reach home. Look at
him," he gestured to his unconcerned liege as the man lifted his visor,
his black eyes glittering at the three huddled knights. "He looks entirely
calm. Pity I am going to have to destroy his state."

Farl cleared his throat loudly,
turning to leave. "I have duties, gentle knights. Good day to you."

"If you leave, McCorkle,
I'll tell Bose it was your idea to withhold sending word of his child's
arrival," Morgan did not look to the knight as the man stopped in his
tracks, groaning softly in protest. But he obeyed nonetheless, resuming his
stance beside Tate.  As Bose drew closer, the knights seemed to visibly shrink.

"I see that three days has
seen nothing changed within my fortress," Bose said, removing his helm and
scratching at his sweating scalp. "Is there anything to report?"

Farl coughed loudly, Tate
pretended not to understand the question, while only Morgan seemed able to
maintain his composure.  But it was a desperately fought battle.

"Welcome home, my lord,” he
said. “How went the funeral?"

"Smoothly enough. As soon as
Edward was buried, the man was forgotten," he fumbled to remove his
gauntlets. "Stephan is finally in control of Chaldon and there is a good
deal of gladness with his assumption of power. The new baron aside, however, I
had the pleasure of meeting Ian's new wife for the first time. A pretty woman.
Looks a great deal like Genisa, in fact."

Morgan nodded faintly, struggling
for courage to bring forth what he knew he must when the opportunity was right.
"Your wife was disappointed that she was unable to attend the wedding. In
Banbury, wasn't it?"

Bose snorted. "As if I would
allow her to travel over miles of territory in her condition. I thought she was
going to knock my teeth out when I denied her."

"She is only now speaking to
you."

He snorted again. "That will
change soon enough when I tell her that Ian's wife is expecting, also."

Tate, having recovered from his
bout with stupidity, leapt into the conversation. "But they were only
married three weeks ago!"

Bose cast him an obvious look,
sending Farl and Morgan in to snickers of realization. "Dare I say that he
had to marry the woman, Tate. Already her belly is rounding."

Speaking of rounded bellies
, Morgan thought. No better time
than the present to broach the subject. Summoning the courage, he opened his
mouth to reply just as Artur came shuffling from the keep with more speed than
the old man had exhibited in years.

"Congratulations!" he
shouted happily. "Your son is magnificent, Bose! Why are ye standing out
here gabbing at these three? Yer wife's waiting for ye!"

Time came to a screeching halt.
Bose stared at the old man as if he hadn't understood a word; the blank
expression on his face was indicative of the level of shock. Morgan, Tate and
Farl scrutinized the man closely for signs of collapse or fury, waiting with
anticipation as news of the birth of his son sank deep.

"Bose?" Morgan muttered
timidly. "Are you well? Can you speak, man?"

Bose swallowed, his black eyes
still riveted to his ancient uncle. Artur drew close to the group, waving his
good arm in agitation and unaware that he had blurted the news to his
unsuspecting nephew.

"Why do ye stand there like
a fool?" he demanded. "Summer knows yer here. Better go and see the
lass before she comes down here. And she shall come, too, looking for ye."

As the old man chattered like a
magpie, Bose suddenly emitted a harsh gasp that sounded more like a cry for
help. His knights continued to watch him apprehensively, Morgan going so far as
to reach out and steady his arm.

"You have a son, Bose,"
he said softly, a twinkle of mirth appearing in his eye as the expression on
his liege's face provoked a sense of humor. "A strong healthy boy was born
to you yesterday morn. And Summer came through without incident."

"I...," Bose tore his
gaze away from the old man, looking to Morgan with a degree of shock never
before witnessed. When his friend smiled encouragingly, the startled father
seemed to snap out of his trance and he grabbed the older knight by the arms,
hard enough to break bones. "I have a son? Summer has given me a
son?"

Soft laughter could be heard from
Tate and Farl, convinced that Bose was not going to tear them all to pieces for
failing to relay the news in a more timely fashion. Morgan merely smiled into
the ashen face.

"A fat little lad with your dark
hair," he replied. "He eats constantly and screams loud enough to
rupture my eardrums. He shall be a mighty warrior someday."

Bose's eyebrows rose as his shock
wore thin, a faint mottle of color reappearing on his pale cheeks. "God's
Beard," he mumbled, turning to look at a beaming Artur. "I had no...
for God's sake, it's not time yet. The babe is not due to arrive for three more
weeks."

"He is here
nonetheless," Artur said over the knights' laughter. "Summer forbade
us to send word of her birth, knowing how panicked and irrational you would
become. She was afraid you'd kill yourself riding day and night to return
home."

Bose took a deep breath, running
a gauntleted hand through his wet hair. His eyes moved from the men surrounding
him to the keep beyond. An unmistakable longing pulled at him, tightening his
throat and squeezing his heart until he could hardly breathe. He could not stop
the well of tears filling his eyes.

"I must see them," he
muttered, pushing past the men in a blind rush to reach the keep.
"Summer... you say she is fine?"

Artur was close behind, as were
the other three knights. "As healthy and whole as the day ye left
her," the old man replied steadily. "She began having pains on the
night ye departed for Chaldon and by dawn she was holding yer squalling son in
her arms. We hardly had time to work up a substantial worry."

"And my son is well?"

"Well, Bose. Well."

Bose did not know whether to
laugh or cry. All that mattered was the fact that his son had been born,
healthy and strong, and by the grace of God his wife had survived unscathed.
God's Beard, he was desperate to hold her, to tell her how much he loved her
and to thank her for her most gracious gift of a son.

Into the massive keep, even the
servants were smiling broadly as their rushed lord mounted the stairs, followed
closely by his knights. The closer he came to his wife and new child, the more
tears and emotion threatened to overwhelm him.

As Bose entered the familiar
second floor where the bedchambers were situated, he realized he could hardly
breathe through the force of his feelings. Closer and closer he drew until
finally he burst through the master chamber door. What he saw nearly sent him
to his knees.

Summer was sitting up in bed, holding
a swaddled bundle and smiling radiantly at her pallid-faced husband. When the
man seemed unable to move his feet in a forward direction, she held out a hand
to him.

"Welcome home, my
darling," she said softly. "Come and m-meet your new son."

Bose let out a ragged sigh as
Artur gave him a shove, pushing him into the warm, sweet-smelling chamber.

"God's Beard, Summer,"
he croaked. "Why... why did not you send word? Why did not you demand I
return home, to be with you while you...?"

"Because you would have been
absolutely useless," she said, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "Look
at you now; I am fine, the babe is fine, and still you look as if you are
seeing ghosts. Believe me when I tell you that you would not have survived my night
of labor."

Near the bed, Bose collapsed on
the edge, staring at the small, squirming bundle in his wife's arms as if
unsure of the truth of the matter. As if hardly believing all had happened as
it should, a healthy wife and a healthy child. Summer smiled at his disbelief
and patted the bed beside her.

"Do not sit so far
away," she commanded quietly. "Come and sit with us."

Woodenly, obediently, he rose and
moved around the bed, staring down at the two human beings most precious to
him. After a brief, hesitant moment, he lowered himself carefully beside his
wife and son.

"Hold out your arms,"
Summer commanded, preparing to hand over the child. "He shall not bite
you, Bose. H-Hold out your arms, I say."

He extended his hands awkwardly,
unsure of himself. "I have... I have never held an infant before, Summer.
God's Beard, what if I drop him? What if I crush him?"

She laughed, listening to Artur
and the knights titter. "He shall scream like a banshee if he's not
comfortable. You w-worry overmuch, husband. Now fold your arms; that's
right."

With a good deal of coaching,
Bose finally placed his arms in the correct position and Summer neatly
deposited the tiny bundle in the crook of his left elbow. Peeling back the
swaddling, Bose was blessed with the first glimpse of his squirming,
fat-cheeked son.

"Oh, Summer," he
breathed, his uncertainty and surprise being replaced by awe. "He's
marvelous. Absolutely marvelous."

Summer's eyes were filled with
tears as she watched her husband's expression. "Indeed, darling," she
stroked his clammy black hair, feeling her strength return by the mere sight
and smell of him. "Since you refused to discuss names, I was forced to
choose a proper title without your consent.”

Bose watched the infant as he
suckled on his fingers."I apologize for my reluctance," he offered
feebly. "I... I was afraid to. Afraid to hope that our child would not
live long enough to be named and afraid that you would not live long enough to
name it."

She shushed him softly, kissing
his ear. "I know," she whispered. "There is no need to explain
your fears to me, darling. But I refuse to hear any c-complaints should my
choice not be to your liking."

"As long as it isn't
Kermit."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Nay,
husband, I have spared you such embarrassment of a first name. But have no
doubt my son will bear the name somehow.”

He smiled for the first time
since returning home, his face soft with enchantment as he continued to gaze at
the bundled infant. "Anything you choose is fine, love, truly. I swear
I'll not dispute you."

Summer watched his features
carefully as she replied. "I rather like your father's name, Garret, but I
wanted to honor my brother as well. Stephan has meant a good deal to us
both," gazing down at the fair baby face, she ran her finger along a silken
cheek. "Therefore, I have decided to name your son Garran. Master Garran
Kermit de Moray."

Bose gazed down at the rosy face,
more wonder and joy and contentment filling him than he ever thought possible.
All of his fears, his pain and his sorrows were fading rapidly until he could
scarcely recall the feelings that had been a part of him for more years than he
cared to count. For within his arms lay the catalyst to a greater healing and
sitting beside him on the massive bed lay the very key to his heart.

A key that would give him eight
more children in the years to come.  All of the Gorgon’s children would grow to
see adulthood and seven would live to fight alongside their mighty father.  But
for now, there was no more misery and no more sorrow.  No more woes to plague
him.

Finally, the Gorgon had found
peace.