Just after dusk, Joanna pushed her son into the world, and a querulous wail filled the chamber as he released his first-drawn breath.
‘A fine boy!’ Sybil declared triumphantly. ‘Well done, my dear, well done indeed. You have given your lord a son and heir.’
Joanna heard the words from what seemed like a long distance. Her womb contracted strongly to expel the afterbirth and she clenched her teeth against the pain for she hated crying out and losing control. Aliza smoothed her brow and soothed her while Sybil gave the baby to an attendant and dealt with the placenta. ‘It is almost finished now. You have been very brave.’ Satisfied there was no excess bleeding or damage, Sybil gave Joanna a warm tisane while a maid washed the baby at the fireside in a bowl of warm water. Joanna revived enough to sip the drink but she was shivering, and immediately Sybil wrapped warm furs around her. ‘All is well,’ she said. ‘Come, see – your beautiful son.’
The maid brought the baby from his bath, enfolded in a soft blanket. His little hands were furled into fists and his eyes were open – calm and unsurprised, as if he already knew the world he had entered. A son and heir for Pembroke and Goodrich. A child to rear, to be proud of and to cherish. Joanna put the tisane aside and took him in her arms. ‘Tell William,’ she said. ‘Give him the good news.’ She kissed the baby’s crumpled brow.
‘I will do it,’ Aliza said. ‘You rest now.’
Joanna closed her eyes, feeling exhausted. Sybil checked the soft rags between her thighs again and then removed the hot stone wrapped in cloth from under the bed clothes and replaced it with a new one.
Feeling sleepy, the pain easing, Joanna gave the baby to Aliza so that she could present him to William.
Aliza kissed his cheek. ‘Welcome,’ she said, ‘firstborn son of my little brother.’
William had been praying at his small, personal altar in his chamber. The room was dark, lit only by a couple of guttering candles, and the fire was dying, but he had not noticed for he had wanted to be alone to concentrate on his prayers and had dismissed all the servants. His mother had borne fourteen children without any difficulty, but he knew the risk. God had been generous to him, but he had not always been a good man for his part of the bargain.
The soft knock at the door jerked him out of his reverie and to his feet. He heard Jacomin speak and Aliza answer, and his whole centre lurched. He stumbled to the door and opened it to find his sister on the threshold holding a bundle in her arms.
‘You have a son, William,’ she said. ‘A beautiful little boy.’
William swallowed. ‘A son,’ he repeated.
Smiling, she placed the child in his arms. William parted the blanket and marvelled at the perfection of the little miniature human within. His son, his child, and proof of his virility. ‘He has Joanna’s chin,’ he said, ‘and her nose. I wonder if his hair will grow like hers or mine, and what colour his eyes will be.’ He couldn’t stop talking; he was babbling but couldn’t help himself.
Aliza put her hand lightly on his arm to steady him.
He wiped his eyes with his free hand. ‘Joanna … how is Joanna?’
‘Do not worry, she is being well looked after by Lady Giffard, but she needs to rest. You will see her in the morning I expect. Now, I need to take this little one back to the chamber, or I shall be in trouble with Lady Giffard, and so will you!’
‘Of course.’ He was still dazed and a little reluctant to hand over his son. He imagined a time stretching forward when an older child would stay with him to play chess or go out riding.
‘You must write to the King,’ Aliza said, finally reacquiring the baby, ‘and send a messenger as soon as the snow has cleared.’
‘I will do it now,’ he said eagerly, ‘without delay.’
In the morning William visited Joanna, and the sight of her, looking pale and exhausted against the bed covers, shocked him. Her braided hair in a neat plait falling over her shoulder made her appear child-like and vulnerable rather than a mother in her own right.
He touched her face. ‘They told me you were well,’ he said, ‘but truly, how are you?’
She reached for his hand. ‘They were right, I am well,’ she answered with a smile. ‘Do not worry on my account.’
‘I will try not to, but I shall miss you. I want you to recover as soon as you can – faster indeed!’
‘As best I can, but you cannot expect me to rally on the instant. It is hard work, pushing a child into the world. You need to have patience – although I know that is not your strong suit,’ she added with a wry smile.
He rolled his eyes in self-deprecation, then said, ‘I have something for you, before I leave you in peace.’ He gave her a small rock crystal vase with a pouring lip, and a matching phial containing oil of roses. ‘For when you want to perfume your hair or yourself,’ he said.
Joanna looked at the exquisite little objects and experienced a powerful wave of love and appreciation for him that he had thought of her personally. ‘Oh William,’ she said. ‘This is perfect.’
‘And so are you. I am a very fortunate man.’
The baby started to snuffle and fuss in his crib, and William went to look at him. ‘He shall be baptised later today,’ he said. ‘Aliza shall stand as his godmother, and he will be named Iohan after your brother to remember him.’
Joanna gave him a look bright with tears. ‘It is fitting.’ Without her brother’s death she and William would never have married. A fierce, protective surge towards her husband and helpless new-born son swept over her. She would stand like a lioness in front of both to defend them, as William would do for her and their child. It was for ever.
19
