“This child will be born sooner than later,” she announced.
“Ohhhhh!” Cicely groaned as another, harder pain suddenly overwhelmed her.
Now both Agnes and Mary began to advise her. They taught her to breathe into her pain. They conferred with each other at one point, announcing that it was time for Cicely to begin to push when the pains began to rack her body again. Kier Douglas came quietly into the hall. Neither Agnes nor Mary suggested he leave, for they knew Sir William would want an eyewitness account from his son as to the sex of the bairn as it was born.
Kier took Mary Douglas’s place behind Cicely, his strong arms keeping her propped up firmly. Sensing a different touch, Cicely leaned her head back and her eyes met his. She understood his presence, and did not protest. And had she wanted to protest there would have been no time, for the pains afflicting her now were deep and hard. She just wanted them to stop, and reason told her they would not until the child was safely born. She shrieked with her agony. Her forehead was covered with tiny beads of sweat.
The two women now between her legs called to her. “Push, my lady! Push!”
Cicely bore down with all her strength and did as she had been bidden. The pain subsided. But then it rose up again to assail her. She cried out once more.
“Push harder! Harder!” Mary Douglas said. “And again, lassie! Again!”
“The head is out,” Agnes announced.
Another terrible wave of agony swept over her, and without even being asked Cicely bore down, pushing as hard as she could. She was panting with her exertions, her chemise was soaking wet, and, weakness overcoming her, she leaned against Kier heavily.
“Its shoulders are out,” Agnes called.
“I don’t think I have another push in me,” Cicely said, suddenly desperately tired.
“You are doing well, madam,” he murmured. “Just a wee bitmore, and the bairn will be born. You’re a braw lassie,” he told her.
His breath was warm in her ear. She couldn’t help a small shiver and was embarrassed by it. But then another pain overcame her, and she shrieked again.
“Push hard, my lady! Harder! Harder!” Agnes called to her.
“I don’t think I can,” Cicely moaned.
“The bairn is almost born,” Mary Douglas said. “You must do this for Ian!”
Cicely pushed with a strength she didn’t think she had. She actually felt the child slip from her body. There was the crying of a newborn.
“ ’Tis a fine little lass,” Mary Douglas said, although her tone was disappointed.
Cicely burst into tears. “Blessed Mother! I have failed Ian! I have failed Glengorm!” She sobbed, and the sound was so terribly sad the infant ceased her howling.
“Nay, nay,” Mary Douglas said. “We have an heiress. A fine, strong wee lass, my lady. You have not failed us at all. Do you have a name for her?”
“Johanna.” Cicely sniffed, and she raised her head to see the child. “After my friend the queen. Ian and I had spoken of it.”Oh, God!Why couldn’t she have birthed a son? She was no fool. She knew the Douglases would not let Glengorm out of their hands. Her son would have been the laird. Her daughter was just her daughter. The baby, cleaned and wrapped, was put in her mother’s arms. Cicely looked down at the child.
“She’s a pretty bairn,” Kier Douglas said softly.
“Do you think she looks like Ian?” Cicely asked him.
“Aye, I do,” he agreed, although he actually could see nothing familiar in this child. “You’ve done well, madam,” he told her.
“Not well enough,” Cicely said, low.
When Cicely had passed the afterbirth, been cleaned, and putinto a clean chemise, Kier Douglas carried her upstairs to her chamber, where Orva awaited her mistress. Cicely’s serving woman, who had cared for her since her birth, had not been able to watchher childsuffer through the agonies of childbirth. Now she hurried forward.
“I have failed,” Cicely said.
“A girl?” Orva replied.
“Aye, a little girl. Mary Douglas is bringing the baby up shortly,” she told Orva as Sesi and Una struggled into the chamber with the baby’s cradle, setting it near the hearth.
“ ’Tis God’s will,” Orva said fatalistically. “Is the wee one healthy?”
