This last comment, she directed to Brant, looking uncomfortable, with having him there.
Isabel answered, "No, he wants to stay."
Brant really thought, he wanted to get something to drink. Watching her writhe in pain was getting to him. However, since Isabel seemed to want him there with her, he was staying.
After another half hour or so, of Isabel crushing her husband’s hand, the midwife said, "When the next one comes, ye need to push, alright?"
Not long after that, the babe’s first cries were heard. Brant looked to the midwife, who silently mouthed that the babe was a boy.
Isabel asked, "Is it a girl?"
Brant smiled at her, and said, "You got just what you wanted."
She returned his smile weakly, then closed her eyes. Rosamund cleaned the newborn up, and wrapped a soft blanket around him. Then, she carried the infant over, for the mother and father, to get their first look at the new addition, to their family. Isabel held out her arms and took the babe, for a short while. Then, feeling quite exhausted, handed the infant back to the serf. Within minutes, she had fallen asleep.
Isabel woke to the infant’s cries, the next morning. Her husband was sleeping on top of the blankets, fully dressed, beside her. When Rosamund, who was trying to quiet the infant, saw that Isabel was awake, she carried the babe over to her.
As the new mother took the infant from the serf, Rosamund said, "He is probably hungry. Do ye know what ye are going to name ‘im, yet?"
Isabel asked in surprise, "He? A boy? Brant said..."
She stopped, looking at her sleeping husband. Untying the laces on her gown, she moved the infant to her breast.
"I washed ‘im up, and dressed ‘im. The babe is a lad," Rosamund said. “What was this girl thing? Was that what ye wanted?" Isabel just shrugged noncommittally, so the serf continued, “Would ye like me to go get ye something to eat? I am sure, Nora will be happy to make ye a tray."
"Aye. Go have breakfast yourself, too," Isabel said.
The serf nodded, and left the room.
Isabel moved a foot under the covers, to tap one of her husband’s legs. At first she got no response from him, but in a short time, he opened his eyes. As he stretched, and rubbed his eyes, he looked at her as if to say, 'is there some reason you're waking me up?'
“Rosamund went to get something to eat, and have someone bring us a tray," Isabel began. "However, before she left, she assured me this babe in my arms, is definitely a boy." She paused, watching as Brant smiled at her. “I seem to recall asking, if the babe was a girl. You said I got just what I wanted. Would that be confusion, My Lord, or just a lie?"
He raised himself up on an elbow, smiling, as he looked at his wife and child.
After a few moments, he answered, “The babe looks to be healthy. You wanted a healthy child, did you not?” When she glared at him, he continued, “I did not want you to be disappointed with the child, right from the start. Just look at that little face. Besides, you still had a firm grip on my hand, and I did not want to risk it being crushed, anymore. I might never be able to wield my sword properly, again. Then, how would I protect you and the lads?”
As he finished speaking, he gave her a mischievous grin.
“I crushed your hand? Do you think it is badly injured?” she asked, with feigned concern.
“Actually, I think my hand will recover,” he said, sitting up close to her. “Though, my arm may be permanently bruised.”
He turned his arm to display three small marks, one partly edged with a crescent shaped gouge, where someone had squeezed very hard.
Isabel laughed, and replied, “Oh my. Mayhap...”
She was cut off, when a knock sounded on the door. In response to Brant’s command, the door opened. A serf entered with a tray of food, followed by Beautrice, with Nathaniel and Hannah.
“Nathaniel wants ‘is mother, I think. He ‘as been fussy. Hannah wanted to see the babe,” Beatrice said.
Isabel had tried to nurse the infant, but he had fallen asleep. She let the little girl see the babe a few minutes, then when Rosamund returned, Beautrice took Hannah downstairs. Rosamund laid the sleeping infant in the cradle, near the hearth.
The parents, with a little help from their eldest son, tried the food from the tray that had been brought in, until Nathaniel laid down between them, to nap. After a short discussion, it was decided that the infant would be named Eric, after his grandfather. With that decision made, Brant moved the tray to the table, in the antechamber. Then, he went to look at the infant in the cradle for a minute more, before going down to the hall. A short time later, Isabel was sound asleep, beside Nathaniel.
Brant returned to the Solar, less than an hour later. He had gone down to the hall, to have a couple of tankards of ale, with his knights. They all congratulated him, on the birth of his second son. Once back in the chamber, he sat at the edge of the bed, watching the woman and lad, who lay there asleep.
Two years ago at this time, he had been planning an attack on one of Avery's Castles, which he had undertaken in April, of that year. Back then, he would occasionally think, about someday marrying and having children. Within a couple of weeks of his success, in gaining control of that Castle, the woman sleeping before him, had forced her way into his life.
He recalled how angry he had been, when he was told he would be held prisoner until he married her, to protect her from his enemy. However, most marriages were arranged by families, frequently between couples who knew little, or nothing, about each other. Brant smiled, thinking about his decision to go alone with his captors, purely to move her forces into his camp, and weaken his enemy. He had no intention at the time, of having anything to do with the girl. He had not even looked at her, during their wedding, believing he wanted nothing to do with her. Brant still did not know, exactly what had sent her into his jail, pretending to be a pretty young serf. He was sure though, that she had sealed her fate with that decision, at least in his mind. The lad, who was beginning to stir from his nap, beside Isabel, would grow up here, with both his mother, and his father, if Brant had anything to say about it.
That was the problem. He was not sure, what he had to say about it. Many people had gone to great effort, to aid and protect, Isabel. Yet, he could find no explanation as to why, they would expend that effort. Brant had his people and allies, get him all the information that was to be had, about his wife. There was no known connection, to the Crown. Lady Ann's family was wealthy, and respected, but not politically powerful or connected. Her father's family was also, largely an open book, except for her grandmother, the Lady Sophie. Somehow, when the grandparents were wed, they came into a large amount of cash, to purchase an extensive property from a debaucherous Lord, who desperately needed money. Other than that, while the grandfather's ancestry was well known, Isabel's grandmother was a complete mystery. Even Lady Ann, knew nothing about her mother-in-law’s family, or history. Ann had once said, she would have suspected that Sophie was a commoner, were it not for her refined manner. That could not be the case, as Isabel had once mentioned her grandmother's family crest, to Kate. Yet, no one knew anything about the woman, or those who knew, were not talking.
Nathaniel raised his head, and Brant picked the child up, before he woke his mother. Ann was expected to arrive tomorrow. She had intended to be here for the birth of the new babe, but he arrived earlier than expected. With Isabel no longer carrying the child, her mother would once again, be harping about how their marriage was supposed to be strategic, and temporary. His mother had died when Brant was quite young, so that he barely remembered her. Then, his sire had wed Peggy, who was in no way maternal, even with her own child, his sister Esme. He did not want that for his sons. Under normal circumstances, particularly with the children, if Brant wanted to keep Isabel as his wife, that would be that. Yet, somehow, with Isabel, he felt certain that she would be his wife, only if she wanted that. But why, he did not know. Did she want out? At one and eight, did she even know what she wanted?