Chapter 19
As Isabel approached her eighth month, early in February, Rosamund was returned to help the Lady. Beatrice was given the care of Hannah. Going from caring for the Lord’s son, to caring for the Lord’s, stepmother’s, daughter, was a change she viewed as a big insult. Shortly after that, Rachel arrived. She was ostensibly to replace Cora, who was surprisingly with child, and was marrying Angus. As Angus was one of Isabel’s Knights, the couple would be going to Kellanhym Castle, her stronghold, to live. However, Isabel noted that Cora’s replacement, Rachel, seemed much more interested in flirting with Brant, than working at the Castle.
Isabel’s annoyance with Rachel had reached the boiling point, by late in February. She was supposed to be assisting Brant with his bath, as his wife was not allowed to lift the heavy buckets of water, to rinse his hair. From the bedchamber, where she was keeping Nathaniel amused and out of trouble, Isabel could hear the serf, telling her husband what a fine looking man he was. Twas clear to her, that if Brant wanted a diversion from his wife’s heavily burdened form, he need not look to find it. With no more than three, or four weeks, before their second babe would arrive, Isabel was both uncomfortable, and irritable.
When Brant came in from the antechamber, after dismissing the slim, obviously willing young serf, Isabel said irritably, “Mayhap, you should reconsider letting me take the room across the passage. Then, Rachel would not have to hold back. She could just climb in the bath with you.”
“Jealous, Alisa?” Brant asked, laughing.
“Do you think I should be pleased, listening to some trim young girl fawn over you, while you have me looking like I swallowed a roast boar, whole?” she responded.
Brant laughed heartily, letting his eyes roam over her.
“The girl certainly does have a trimmer figure than you, right now,” he replied, picking up Nathaniel. “However, I find there are very desirable benefits, to having you look like you ‘swallowed a roast boar whole’. Besides, you did want to be my wife, right? Something tells me, if you were sitting here thin, and trim, and she was waddling, that is what you said right, you would be in an even fouler mood.”
“She is just so blatantly obvious. She knew full well, I was in here with the babe. I am miserable enough, without having to listen to her throw herself at you,” Isabel lamented.
“Twill only be a few more weeks,” Brant said. “Then, hopefully, we will have another child just like this little lad.”
He motioned to Nathaniel, who was rubbing his eyes sleepily, cradled in his father’s arms.
“I am giving you a daughter, remember?” Isabel asked, smiling.
“If you must,” he replied, as a knock sounded at the door.
On Brant’s order, Rosamund entered to get Nathaniel ready for bed.
Nathaniel had his first birthday, on the 27th of February. Twas two weeks later, when Isabel found herself feeling extremely uncomfortable, with a backache, and no appetite, at the evening meal. As soon as the meal was over, she asked Brant to help her upstairs, to rest. However, lying down seemed to increase the pain in her back, so she rose to sit by the hearth. After a short time, she realized sitting was not helping, either, so she tried standing. She walked slowly around the room, which reduced the pain, a little. Brant who had stayed with her, was asking for the tenth time, ‘is it the babe’, when she felt a slight tightening in her abdomen.
“Mayhap. I am not sure,” she answered.
As she continued her slow pacing around the chamber, Brant said, “If it might be the babe, don’t you think you should lay down?”
There was a knock at the portal, and on command, Rosamund entered with Nathaniel.
When she saw Isabel walking around, she asked, “Shouldn’t ye be laying down?”
Brant laughed. Isabel glared at him.
“Laying down was hurting my back, really bad. Sitting was not much better. Walking seems to help somewhat,” she explained.
“Ye had a backache with ‘im, remember?” Rosamund asked. “Ye will likely need the midwife, soon.”
She crossed the room to change Nathaniel, into his night clothes.
Isabel felt the muscles tighten in her belly, again, as she went to kiss her son goodnight. However, she said nothing to the others. Even if it was the babe, it took forever for the first one, she reasoned.
“Should I have Beautrice take ‘im into Hannah’s room, tonight? Just in case ye are, going to ‘ave the new babe,” Rosamund asked.
At Brant’s nod, she picked the boy up to exit. Isabel continued to make laps around the chamber, while her husband watched. After several more slow laps, he went to her side, and placed an arm around her waist.
He said, “I really think you should lie down, Isabel.”
Isabel replied, “Even if I am going to have the babe, it will probably be hours, yet. Nathaniel took about twenty hours. I am sure, I will have plenty of time, to lie down, later.”
A short while later, Rosamund returned to watch Isabel make a few more laps around the chamber. Suddenly, she stopped and passed her hand over her abdomen, when a more painful contraction came. As the pain passed, she felt liquid rush down her legs.
“I believe, I am going to need the midwife. Oh, and a dry gown,” Isabel said.
Rosamund hurried out of the chamber. Brant tried to pick his wife up, to carry her to the bed.
But Isabel said, “Brant, I need a dry gown from my trunk.”
He quickly went to get the gown. Isabel was undoing the laces on the wet gunna she wore. Her husband lifted the wet clothes up over her head. Dropping them to the floor, he put the fresh one over her head. Once she was changed, he carried her to the bed.
When Rosamund returned, she brought two other serfs with her. Brant lifted Isabel up, so they could place several layers of clean linen under her. Laying down was, once again, causing the back pain to increase, so she tried to stack the pillows up under her head and shoulders. As Brant tried to help, a stronger pain assailed her, and she grasped his arm tightly, causing him to wince. As soon as her grasp relaxed, he took her hand in his, so she did not crush his forearm, further.
Rosamund noticing, smiled and said, “Mayhap, ye would like to go down, and get something to drink, Me Lord. This could take hours.”
Isabel interjected, “Let him stay. Mayhap later, I can remind him how this is all his fault.” Then looking at him, she asked, “You want to see your daughter born, right?”
He looked at his wife, trying to fathom what she was about. 'His daughter' was of course, a reference to his revenge going awry. However, Isabel had a firm grip on his hand. If her actions matched her words, he would have to pull his hand from her grasp, to leave.
So he answered, "Of course, I want to see my daughter born."
Brant sat on the edge of the bed for several hours, with Isabel painfully squeezing his hand every few minutes, as the painful contractions came, and went. The mid wife had not arrived yet, though it should take less than a hour to ride to the village to get her. The other women kept reminding Isabel, how to breath through the contractions, which were very close together, by that time. In between, she seemed to be focused, on tiredly watching her husband.
Finally, the midwife arrived looking exhausted. She had been visiting at a hut outside of the village. She quickly rinsed her hands, in some water that had been boiled over the hearth, to sterilize it.
"I need to check, to see how ye are doing," she told Isabel. Then, a short time later, "It is not going to be much longer. Are you sure, ye do not want to go ‘ave something to drink, Me Lord?"