At that, an older woman stepped forward and knelt before the king. Rosamund had never seen her before, but there was a familiar cast to the woman’s face. ‘Your Grace, I have come to offer myself as a witness.’
The king studied her as if she were an insect. ‘Who are you?’
‘I am the queen’s midwife,’ she replied. ‘I have assisted your lady wife at every birth.’
At this, King Henry’s demeanour shifted. ‘Go on.’
‘I can examine this woman and tell you how long it will be until she gives birth. I have assisted with hundreds of women, and this may be of help.’
The king grew thoughtful at this. ‘And how can you be certain?’
‘If she conceived during her second marriage, it would be too soon for me to feel movement. If she was already pregnant by Alan de Courcy, this would be obvious.’
‘It would not,’ Owen blurted out. ‘My brother—’
His words broke off when Henry backhanded him with a fist. ‘The next man who dares to interrupt his king will have his tongue removed.’ The king’s tone held fury, and he regarded each of them. ‘My own sons have risen up in rebellion, and that requires my attention.’ He nodded to the midwife. ‘Examine Lady Pevensham and tell me if her child is legitimate. If it is, then she will return to Pevensham to await the child’s birth.’
The midwife bowed, but before she could take her to be examined, Rosamund dropped to her knees before the king. She did not dare to speak before she was given permission, but after a moment, the king touched her shoulder. He tilted her face up to look at him. ‘At last, we see a woman who knows her place. What have you to say?’
Rosamund took a breath. ‘My husband was very ill for a time, my lord, and we learned that he was being poisoned by a servant. The servant confessed to me that she was under the orders of Owen de Courcy. And the night my husband died, we learned that Owen hired Fitzwarren to strangle Alan.’ She rested her hands upon her womb and pleaded with the king, ‘No matter what becomes of my child’s inheritance, I beg of you, do not let my husband’s death go without justice. If Owen returns to Northleigh, he will only threaten my unborn baby once again.’
The king eyed her but there was no mercy in his gaze. ‘We will think upon this while you are examined by the midwife.’
She bowed her head, and the older woman helped her back to her feet. There was no way of knowing what judgement the king would pass, but Rosamund hoped he understood her fears.
The older woman took her back to a smaller chamber and closed the door behind her. Rosamund remained standing, not knowing what the midwife would want of her.
‘Lie back upon the pallet over there,’ the older woman bade. Her voice was kind, and she picked up a small stool and brought it over to sit beside her. She moved her hands over Rosamund’s womb and pressed upon her. Then she said quietly, ‘We both know this child could not possibly be Alan de Courcy’s. The man was incapable of siring children.’
‘How could you know this?’ Rosamund asked. The woman had never even met her first husband.
Her gaze fixed upon Rosamund, but she did not answer the question. ‘I will tell the king that you will give birth to this child by All Saints Day or near to that.’
Rosamund was already shaking her head. ‘I do not think—’
The midwife touched a finger to her mouth. ‘You saved the life of my daughter. And so I shall save your life and the life of your child in return.’
It was then that she realised who the woman was. ‘You are Berta’s mother.’
The old woman inclined her head. ‘I am. And she asked me to come on your behalf.’ The midwife patted her hand. ‘I will give you a tea to help you stop the bleeding. You need not worry—your children are safe.’
Rosamund blinked at that. ‘Children?’
‘Did you not wonder why you were breeding so large? It is because you were blessed with two instead of one.’ The midwife smiled. ‘But you must be careful, for twins are often born early. Should you wish it, I can come to Pevensham and help you.’
Rosamund felt the emotion gather up in her throat. She had doubted herself for sparing Berta’s life. But now it seemed she had made the right choice. And in return, the midwife would bear witness for her sake. ‘I do wish it. Thank you.’
* * *
When the midwife returned with his wife, Warrick was glad to see that the colour had returned to Rosamund’s face. ‘She is indeed many months pregnant with Alan de Courcy’s child,’ the old woman told the king. ‘There is no doubt of it. She will give birth near to All Saints Day.’
Henry stared hard at Rosamund and Owen. ‘And how long ago did Warrick de Laurent arrive at Pevensham?’
‘A little over four months ago,’ Owen admitted.
With a shrug, the king said, ‘Given that Alan de Courcy acknowledged the child before his death, and the midwife has stated there is no doubt it is his heir, then you may manage your late brother’s estates until the child is born. If it is a girl, you will remain the heir. If it is a son, you may act as his guardian until he comes of age.’
Warrick tensed at the king’s judgement. He could not allow Owen to be anywhere near Pevensham—especially with Rosamund’s pregnancy. His greatest concern was their welfare.
