Chapter 34
She needed to see Maelgwn. The thought came to Rhiannon as she crossed the courtyard. She wasted no time in heeding it, but walked quickly toward the gate.
Outside the fortress, she paused to catch her breath before attempting the journey down the trackway. For someone who had always been small and slender, being heavy with child was a cumbersome trial. At least this winter she did not suffer from the cold. Even in a light cloak, she would not be chilled as she walked to the practice field. The babe inside her warmed her body even as the thought of it warmed her heart.
The short distance to the frozen meadow where Maelgwn and his men practiced their fighting skills seemed very far this day. Each step made Rhiannon's hips and back ache. She wondered if even following her inner voice was worth this torment.
As she reached the practice field, her doubts were resolved. In the unseasonably warm weather, most of the men and boys had stripped off their tunics. The sight of so much sleek, sweaty male flesh exhilarated Rhiannon. If her visions were true, someday this boy babe she carried would train on this very field, and his dark hair and lithe body would shine with sweat as he fought to earn his place among Maelgwn's warriors.
Smiling, Rhiannon found her eyes drawn to a corner of the field where Gareth instructed the younger men and boys on the techniques of fighting on horseback. Maelgwn was among those men who watched, his broad bare back gleaming in the pale winter sunlight as he leaned on his sword.
At the sight of her husband, a surge of longing passed through Rhiannon, so intense she felt it ripple all the way to her womb. The babe kicked emphatically, as if protesting its father's hold on her flesh. Rhiannon laughed out loud with pleasure. Then a sharp pain tore through her belly, and she gritted her teeth instead. For a moment, she wondered if it was the beginning of her labor, then dismissed the thought. By her reckoning, it was still early for the babe to be born.
She walked along the edge of the practice area. The sight of her husband was enthralling her senses. Never would she grow tired of watching the sleek, animal-like grace with which he moved. The supple elegance of his form made ripples of desire uncoil in her lower belly.
He turned to talk to the man next to him, and Rhiannon caught a glimpse of her husband's handsome profile. Maelgwn had grown his beard for the winter, and the fringe of dark hair on his chin emphasized his proud features and piercing blue eyes. She moved closer, intent on admiring her husband from a more advantageous angle. Despite the other men on the field, it seemed as if there was no one there but her and Maelgwn.
She edged close enough to watch the individual muscles in Maelgwn's back flex as he demonstrated a particular sword thrust. His sweat-streaked hair coiled into dark ringlets trailing over his shoulders. He threw back his head and gave a hearty, triumphant laugh. Rhiannon's breath caught. Maelgwn had seen thirty-four winters pass, but the years had not dimmed his magnificence. He was still a man at the very height of his physical power.
Another pain ripped through Rhiannon's midsection, startling her. She tried to breathe slowly and evenly until the spasm passed, but a twinge of doubt stirred in her mind. Perhaps it was the babe, come a fortnight too early. The child seemed to have an impatient spirit, always twisting and turning in her womb with a dissatisfied rhythm. Probably a boy, she thought wryly. Only a foolish male would be eager to leave his lulling shelter and enter the bright, cold, uncomfortable world of the living.
Maelgwn turned suddenly. His eyes caught hers, and Rhiannon felt the powerful energy flowing between them. She stared at her husband, entranced. This was her mate. Till the stars burned to nothing and the seas boiled dry, she would love him.
He approached her, a smile on his face, his movements, languid and relaxed. She watched him as if seeing him for the first time, marveling that this beautiful man belonged to her. Then the pain caught at her again. She clenched her teeth. Maelgwn saw and was beside her in seconds.
"Rhiannon, what is it?"
"I'm not sure."
Maelgwn's eyes widened, and a look of alarm crossed his face. "It's time? The babe means to be born?"
Rhiannon hesitated, then nodded.
"Is that why you sought me out?"
She suppressed a smile. What would her husband think if she knew she had really come to admire him at swordplay?
Maelgwn scooped her up in his arms and began walking toward the fortress.
"We should ride," she suggested, concerned that he meant to carry her all the way back to Degannwy. "I'm not as light as I once was. You're likely to strain something."
Maelgwn gave her an insulted look, and Rhiannon knew further protest would be useless. His back and shoulders would ache later, and she would be too busy with the babe to tend him. Then he would regret his impulsive exertions. For now, there would be no swaying him.
Another pain rippled through her. Rhiannon forgot everything but the urgent warning that her time was near. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Her body had begun its struggle to open the birth passage so the babe could journey to the world of the living. She willed herself to relax, to let go and accept what was to come.
Sweat trickled down his brow as Maelgwn entered the courtyard carrying Rhiannon, but it was not the effort of the journey which made his heart race alarmingly. He had avoided thinking of Rhiannon's labor for months. Now the babe was on its way. He could no longer deny the sick dread coursing through him.
There were so many things that could go wrong during childbearing. If the babe was too big or positioned wrongly, days of labor might result in a stillborn child. Even if the babe survived, the mother risked bleeding to death or succumbing to childbed fever.
Maelgwn struggled to force his foreboding away as he entered the bedchamber and crossed the room to lay Rhiannon down on the bed. He leaned over and gazed at her intently. Her eyes were closed, her features still and peaceful. For a moment, he thought she dozed, then he saw her bite down upon her lips as another spasm racked her body.
The dread intensified around him like a noose. Rhiannon was so small, so frail-looking. It did not seem possible she could survive the pain and exhaustion of giving birth. Never should he have risked getting her with child again.
"Maelgwn." Her eyes fluttered open. She watched him with a distant, almost dazed expression. "Have you sent for Arianhrodd?"
"Not yet. Balyn is fetching Gwenaseth and Bleddryn. I can send someone for Arianhrodd, if you wish it."
She smiled faintly. "Of course I wish it. Not only is she skilled at midwifery, she played a vital part in this child's conception. If it were not for Arianhrodd, I might never have survived to return to you."
Maelgwn leaned closer and kissed Rhiannon's forehead. "Are you scared, cariad?"
She shook her head. "The pain frightens me a little, but I'm certain I can bear it."
What of dying?—Maelgwn thought silently. Was Rhiannon's faith in the Goddess so great she could enter this life-threatening ordeal without doubts? He repressed a shudder, wondering why his own faith was so lacking.
Rhiannon took a sharp breath as the next contraction came, and Maelgwn's heart seemed to leap into his throat. His wife must have sensed him tense, for she looked up at him, her eyes puzzled.
"You're afraid?" she asked.
Maelgwn shook his head. He did not want Rhiannon to guess the awful, choking terror he felt. "Nay, merely excited that the babe finally means to be born. I've waited so long for this day."
"You must not be too impatient. Most first babes take their time arriving. I might be in labor 'til morn."
The thought of a long labor intensified his torment. Maelgwn straightened and turned away from the bed, sure he could not hide his fear from Rhiannon if she watched his face. "I will see about sending an escort for Arianhrodd," he said.
Taffee came rushing in as he reached the door. Her plain face glowed with excitement. "My lady, is it true?" she asked. "Has your water broken? Are the pains close together?"
Maelgwn grimaced. He did not
wait for Rhiannon's answers, but hurried out the door, almost running into Gwenaseth. She was as annoying as Taffee, plaguing him with questions until he brusquely took his leave and strode rapidly to the gate. He sent Mabon after Arianhrodd, then stood panting in the wan winter sunshine. A breeze blew from the sea, chilling his bare torso. He was still half-naked and sweaty from the practice field. Striding to the well, he began to sluice water from the nearby trough over his face and chest. The cool dampness revived him, but did nothing to ease the cramping dread in his belly.
Belatedly, he considered that he should have gone after Arianhrodd himself. It was too late now; he dared not leave Rhiannon. What if she were to call for him and he was not there?
He glanced toward his bedchamber for the dozenth time and sighed. He despised this helplessness. There was nothing he could do to aid Rhiannon. Childbearing was a woman's trial. Even other women could do no more than offer sympathy and encouragement. The thing was in God's hands—or more likely the Goddess's. After saving Rhiannon from death three times, surely the Great Mother would not desert her now.
The thought heartened him. He remembered Rhiannon's look of contentment and peace, and knew he must strive for the same. Perhaps if he saw her again, he would feel better.
He began toward his bedchamber, then paused. Could he endure watching Rhiannon suffer, knowing there was nothing he could do? His body went rigid at the thought. When Balyn called his name, he jerked as if from a blow.
"Jesu, Maelgwn, you twitch like a maddened dog. What is it? Do you fear for Rhiannon?"
Maelgwn nodded. Balyn met his apprehensive look with a wide smile. "Sewan assures me all is well. She said Rhiannon's labor is progressing normally—and right quickly, too. She suggested you might have another heir before nightfall."
"First babes are seldom born quickly," Maelgwn scoffed. "Rhiannon said as much, and I know it to be true."
"Sewan has had five herself, and she thinks this one means to surprise us all with its hurry to be born."
Maelgwn shot a glance toward his bedchamber. The suffocating fear returned. If the babe came too quickly, Rhiannon might tear inside and bleed to death. These next few hours could be her last among the living. He would not lose these precious moments with her simply because he was coward. He dashed toward the bedchamber, pushing his way through the crowd of women in the anteroom outside.
Pausing inside the doorway of the dimly lit bedchamber, he fought to control his panic. He could not allow Rhiannon to see the dread in his eyes. He must compose himself.
Gwenaseth, Bleddryn and Taffee were arrayed around the bed, blocking his view of Rhiannon. Sewan and Melangel stood in a corner, talking softly. For a moment no one noticed him, then Sewan looked his way. "My lord," she gasped. "It's not fitting for you to be here!"
Gwenaseth whirled around at Sewan's words. Seeing Maelgwn, her expression hardened. "Wait outside, Maelgwn," she ordered. "We'll send for you when the babe has come."
Maelgwn shook his head. His fear for Rhiannon overwhelmed him. All these woman and Bleddryn hovering around his wife—it reminded him of a deathwatch. Was he too late? Was Rhiannon dying?
Advancing toward the bed, he pushed Taffee aside. Rhiannon was half sitting up, with a pile of sheepskins wedged behind her shoulders. Her eyes were closed; her face tense with concentration. Damp strands of hair curled around her face, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. She wore only her shift, and it clung to the mound of her belly. One small, slender hand clutched so tightly at the bedcovers her knuckles were white.
His eyes focused on the streaks of crimson staining the damp shift in the hollow between Rhiannon's legs. Shocked and horrified, Maelgwn fell to his knees. He pressed his face against Rhiannon's hand.
"Sweet Rhian, what have I done to you," he whispered.
She did not answer. Another contraction made her body shudder.
Maelgwn took a breath like a sob. He felt someone trying to pull him away from the bed. Gwenaseth's voice was hoarse in his ear. "You fool! Do you mean to destroy her mastery of the pain? Get out. The babe comes even now."
Maelgwn stood up. "Nay, I will not leave her." He glared at the others in the room, then motioned toward the door. "All but Bleddryn—be gone with you."
Taffee made a sound of disgust. She grabbed his arm. "Have you no decency, my lord? Men do not attend their wives in labor." Her eyes flicked contemptuously to Bleddryn. "Take this butcher with you. My lady does not need him."
Bleddryn started to protest, and one of the women stepped forward to gainsay him. They began to argue. Something inside Maelgwn snapped. He pulled out the sword slung at his side and brandished it at the crowded room. "You will heed my will in this matter—and promptly!"
His voice shook with anguish, but it was still fierce enough to frighten the women and Bleddryn. They moved toward the door. Gwenaseth was the last to leave. As she reached the doorway, she turned, her eyes imploring. "Please, Maelgwn. Let me stay. This is a time when a woman needs other women at her side."
Maelgwn glanced toward the bed. Rhiannon was breathing strangely. Her face contorted in a grimace of pain. Stark panic swept through him. He wanted to be with Rhiannon, but in truth he had no idea what to do, how to aid her.
"Aye, you may stay," he answered, his eyes still focused on Rhiannon. "But only you, and only if you quit your demand that I leave my wife."
Gwenaseth hurried to the bed. She lifted up Rhiannon's shift and examined Rhiannon gently. Maelgwn swallowed as he saw the bloody bedcovers at the juncture of Rhiannon's legs. The memory of Aurora hemorrhaging to death in childbed filled his thoughts.
He shuddered. "She bleeds. This is the end, isn't it?"
"Aye. It will not be long now. I can see the babe's head."
Maelgwn swayed on his feet, and his throat filled with grief. How could Gwenaseth be so calm? Rhiannon was dying and all Gwenaseth thought of was the babe. He could not bear it. How was he to live without Rhiannon? She was not merely his love, his wife—she was part of his soul.
He knelt down by the bed again, his face near Rhiannon's. He reached out and stroked her damp brow, and her eyes opened. "It's time," she said softly. "I'm ready to push." A slight smile touched her lips. "Your son is being born."
Maelgwn tried to nod. His vision swam with tears. How brave she was. Like Gwenaseth, she thought only of the child. But he, he was selfish. If this child cost him Rhiannon, he would never love it.
Rhiannon's features tightened with pain. She gasped. Maelgwn stood up abruptly. He untangled Rhiannon's hand from the bedcovers and clasped it in his own. "Hold on to me," he whispered. "I will not let you go."
Rhiannon cried out, once, twice. Then she began to pant heavily. From the end of the bed, Gwenaseth spoke words of encouragement. Seconds passed. Maelgwn felt the beating of his own heart, then the pulse in Rhiannon's wrist. The two rhythms seemed to merge. Maelgwn willed his strength to flow into Rhiannon, his blood to replace that which she lost. Another spasm racked Rhiannon. For a moment, Maelgwn had the sensation of urgent pressure mingled with pain. He found himself breathing in time to Rhiannon.
Five, six times, the wave of pain rose and fell. Another cry, almost a shout, issued from Rhiannon's lips. Maelgwn watched her in awe. Rhiannon no longer looked like his gentle, delicate wife. Her features were grim, her eyes slitted with intensity. The muscles in her neck and shoulders stood out like ropes, while her hair burned in a wild flame around her face. She looked savage, powerful. He watched her take a deep breath and let out a blood-chilling scream.
The sound seemed to make his heart stop, and the room darkened. Maelgwn fought for control. He gripped Rhiannon's hand more tightly and leaned over her, calling her name. She fell back against the sheepskins. Her eyes closed; her face was pale with exhaustion.
"Rhiannon," he begged. "Rhiannon, don't leave me."
His desperate plea was interrupted by a harsh, squeezing cry from the other end of the bed. Maelgwn turned at the strangeness of the sound. He saw that Gwenaseth h
eld something very red and squashed-looking. It did not seem possible the thing could be alive, but it flailed its tiny arms and legs with obvious energy and a kind of frustrated fury. That was the sound it made—of anger, and impatience.
"It's a boy," Gwenaseth exulted. "You have a son!"
Maelgwn shook his head. All that mattered was Rhiannon. He turned back to her, appalled that he had forgotten his wife for even a second.
To his surprise, her eyes were open, her face weary but no longer so sickly looking. She watched Gwenaseth and the baby with a dazed, tender expression. Her parched lips moved. "A son, Maelgwn. We have a son."
His body felt liquid, melting into the chair beneath him. The sight of his son suckling at his wife's milk-engorged breast sent tremors of rapture through every inch of Maelgwn's body. Was ever there a vision as beautiful as this? Rhiannon had never looked so exquisite. Her eyes shone a misty purple in the flickering rushlight, and her skin gleamed translucent, as pale as the creamy milk that trickled down her breast.
The babe turned from the nipple and gave a soft, contented sigh. Maelgwn felt his breath catch at the sight, and he knew tears glittered in his eyes. He shook his head. His son was making him act a fool, and he had been enough of one already. What a dolt he had been to think Rhiannon was dying. In his panic, he had confused Rhiannon's exhaustion for impending death, the normal birth fluids for a life-threatening flow of blood. Thank the Christian saints, Gwenaseth had ascribed his strange behavior to awe and amazement rather than the stark terror it really was. If she guessed what really had gone through his mind, the acceptance of men in the birthing chamber would have been set back at least a hundred years.
The fire crackled and hissed in the hearth behind him. Arianhrodd moved silently, tending it. She had arrived a short time after the babe was born. Unlike the other women, she showed no shock at finding him in the birth chamber. It was well and fitting, she said, that he witness his wife's travail first-hand. Now he would never doubt that a woman's strength and courage could be as great as a man's.
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