by Ren Garcia
The Hospitalers also shared with her their pre-natal assessment of the child: a boy, a fairly big one. Though lacking an heir, Lord Stenstrom was reserved at the news of an heir. He had twenty-nine daughters, and twelve of them had false-indicated a boy, so he wasn’t holding his breath.
Fearing for her, the Hospitalers, seeing no other course, thought the safest thing would be to terminate the pregnancy—Lady Jubilee’s welfare was possibly at stake. Though Lord and Lady Belmont already had twenty-nine children, they didn’t want, if at all possible, to give up on the child and decided to go to the Sisterhood of Light for help. Such a visit was their last choice, for Lady Jubilee’s House of Tyrol was not close to the Sisters for a number of reasons—still, this was for their unborn child.
They visited the Sister’s research facility at Valenhelm and, though graciously welcomed, they got the usual Sisterhood treatment—a smiling disinterest. The Sisters, being the Sisters, had little time for such a mundane thing as a troubled pregnancy. They took the test results the Hospitalers had given them and promised to go over the findings and reply in short order.
In other words, the Sisters weren’t going to help them.
So, they returned to their holdings in Tyrol, and Lady Jubilee continued to suffer, her symptoms becoming severe to the point of her being bed-ridden, her husband and her children sitting at her side in their grand bedroom trying to keep her spirits up.
Time passed, and Lady Jubilee fell into protracted madness, eyes blank, fingers trembling. Fearing for his wife, Lord Stenstrom Commed the Hospitalers: please, save his Lady, he said to them frantically over the Com.
End the pregnancy. Save her life.
The Hospitalers arrived the next day from their sanctum in Tyrol, ready to perform the unhappy procedure.
A contingent of Sisters also arrived.
Although they, on the surface, behaved in their usual demure fashion, the Sisters nevertheless appeared a bit anxious—a bit windblown. They intercepted the Hospitalers and, after a lengthy meeting with them and Lord Stenstrom, insisted that the pregnancy continue.
The Hospitalers objected—Lady Jubilee was clearly in dire straits. She had twenty-nine children, and sadly, the thirtieth should be terminated.
The Sisters insisted they be allowed to take action. They went into her room and closed the door. When they emerged some time later, they announced the lady and her unborn child were both fine.
Lord Stenstrom went to Jubilee’s side. There she was, resting in bed on a mound of pillows, a little sweaty, but otherwise doing much better than she had been.
“My Lord, my Lord …” she said softly.
Whatever the Sisters did behind the closed door of the bedroom, it was effective; her sanity was restored, her pain managed.
The Hospitalers demanded to examine Lady Jubilee. The Sisters dismissed them outright.
After that, the Sisters became quite interested in Lady Jubilee’s pregnancy. They remained in close attendance, visiting often, monitoring Lady Jubilee’s progress, and eventually took up temporary residence in a chapel on the green, so that they could stay close by should their help be needed. Their protracted presence was galling, not only for Lady Jubilee, but for the people and Lords of Tyrol, for the Sisters were considered a prying and dangerous nuisance in the region. The Tyrols as a people and the Sisters had never been close.
* * * * *
The thing Lady Jubilee had dreaded was finally at hand . . . .
Lord Stenstrom sat by Lady Jubilee’s bedside. The grand bedroom room was decorated in old Tyrol signets and inlaid mosaic. Through the many windows, afternoon sun filtered in along with the steady surf from the nearby sea.
Two Sisters sat nearby, each flanked with their usual Marines. The Sisters were asking a series of probing questions, and there appeared to be no way of getting out of it.
Lady Jubilee did not want to answer questions from the Sisters. She had many secrets.
Lord Stenstrom, feeling the tension in the room, tried to break the ice and send the conversation down a suitable path. “Great Sisters, may I offer a thought regarding my Lady’s condition?”
“You may, Lord Belmont.”
“As you know, there is a long-standing Wirguild placed upon my Lady’s head. Perhaps her condition is a result of that death-mark.”
“We are aware of the Wirguild placed upon the Lady Jubilee’s head. We have determined that no provable malfeasance or similar activities have been acted upon her in such regard.”
Lord Stenstrom nodded.
The Sisters turned to Lady Jubilee. “You are in your final weeks of pregnancy, Lady Jubilee,” a Marine said for one of the Sisters. “Your distress and continued symptoms are caused by an unusually high demand made upon your body by your unborn child. We have not seen the like in some time. We have, through herbal, botanical and chemical remedies, arrested the problem and you shall carry your child to term without fear or further worry, provided you allow us to continue your treatment.”
“We are grateful, Great Sisters,” Lord Stenstrom replied.
“We have questions, for both of you, and desire an honest discourse. You need not fear or be modest in this. We simply need all information possible to ensure our diagnosis is sound and our prescribed treatment appropriate.”
Sounded reasonable enough.
Lady Jubilee resisted. She did not want to answer questions from the Sisters. She had secrets, many secrets.
They instantly detected this. “We care not of your Tyrol ancestry. We are aware that we are not trusted or well-liked in this area. We know the ancient Tyrol lords did not love the Elders. You need not fear—our interest in this matter lies solely with your unborn child. Any secrets or breaches of Elder law committed by you or your House are of no concern at this time.”
Stenstrom and Lady Jubilee looked at each other and clasped hands, the both of them dreading what was to come.
The Sisters began. “The condition of your child does not look to us to be natural. Did either of you take, or otherwise indulge in, anything unusual prior to the conception of this child?” the Sisters asked them. “Please be honest.”
As per usual, the Sisters were grappled into their minds, taking their answers both by ear, and directly from their thoughts. Lying would be pointless, and might possibly provoke more questions.
Jubilee swallowed. “I … took an herbal fertility mixture, to promote my body’s ability to bear children, as I am getting rather old. I have often done so.”
The Sisters noted her admission. “Your body is fully healthy and your age is of no concern. Such an herbal remedy shall, as we understand, promote the production of triple X chromosomes, and most certainly ensure that you shall bear a girl-child. You must have been taking this remedy for some time, as we see you have twenty-nine daughters, and no sons—a statistical impossibility, as Lord Belmont is perfectly virile and his Y counts are normal.”
“Clearly,” she replied.
“Where did you get this herbal fertility remedy?” a Sister asked.
Jubilee was uncomfortable. “It is a family remedy. I made it myself.”
“We see,” the Marine said for a Sister. “And you are skilled in the herbal arts?”
“I am.”
The Sisters didn’t react. “In a normal situation, we would be interested in learning more of this herbal remedy, to test and determine if it is safe and legal for practical use; however, what is done is done. Again, as previously stated, we shall confine ourselves to observation and treatment in this matter.”
Jubilee was relieved.
The Sisters turned to Stenstrom. “And you, sir?”
Stenstrom cleared his throat and spoke. “I purchased a serum which was purported to promote the creation of a child with admirable genes.”
The Sisters noted his comments. “And you wished for a boy-child, yes?”
“Yes, I have made no secret of that. Our House needs an heir.”
Jubilee turned to her husband. She looked
like she wanted to say something but held her tongue.
“You wish to add something, Lady Jubilee?” one of the Marines asked.
She faded back into the pillows and said nothing.
The Sisters continued. “And where did you acquire this serum, Lord Belmont?”
“Bazz—it was sold to me by a reputable apothecary and vigorously argued as safe.”
The Sisters noted his admission in their usual fashion, displaying little emotion one way or the other. “We have heard of such things and know the potion you speak of. This potion . . . it shall certainly guarantee the birth of a boy child. Are we correct?”
“Yes.”
Again, Jubilee looked like she wanted to have a private word with her husband, but she couldn’t with the Sisters present.
“And that was all you took, Lord Belmont?”
“Yes.”
“We have detected certain other compounds present in Lady Jubilee’s body—we believe that the potion you took on Bazz was tainted somehow.”
“Tainted? The Hospitalers detected no poisons or taints.”
“Indeed, we have knowledge the Hospitalers do not, but no matter. We have arrested its effects as best we can.”
The interview went on. They insisted nothing was wrong, either with herself or her unborn child and that the herbals and serums they took, even with the odd taint, should not prove harmful. They prescribed a revised retinue of herbal treatments, which appeared to calm her symptoms.
She was in her final weeks of pregnancy.
* * * * *
“Push! Push, woman, push! By the Elders, to protect this child, we shall dash you aside without hesitation!”
Jubilee screamed, the altar beneath her dripping with dark blood. Lord Stenstrom took her hand and whispered in her ear. “Push, my lady, push. Our child is almost born.”
“Something’s wrong—something’s wrong! She’s tearing me apart!”
“Our baby is almost born. Just a little more.”
“I can’t!”
The Sisters had enough. Their actions clearly indicated that they had little care or sympathy for Lady Jubilee. It was the child they wanted.
They TKed into her, wrenching her flesh aside without regard or mercy.
Jubilee arched her back and uttered a cry of anguish that was soul-shattering.
Through torn flesh and shattered bone, their child was free of her womb. Held aloft by the Sisters, it took its first breath and cried.
* * * * *
When Jubilee awoke some time later, she discovered the Sisters had departed. The Hospitalers were back. They had labored through the night to save her life, for, as she was later told, the Sisters had nearly torn her apart and left her for dead.
They had worked hard, and she was out of danger. She was a strong woman.
“Child? Where’s our child? Where is she?”
The Hospitalers and Lord Stenstrom leaned over her. “The child is fine. Our son is fine, Jubilee,” Lord Stenstrom said.
Her eyes, previously heavy-lidded and bleary, snapped open with fury. “Son? A son!” she said, trying to sit up, her voice ragged. “There will be no sons—I have told you that! I have told you that!”
The Hospitalers were shocked. “Lady Jubilee, please try to calm yourself.”
“Keep out of this!” She pointed at Lord Stenstrom. “When you are no longer at peril, then you shall have a son—not before!”
“There will be no more children for you, Lady Jubilee. To save you, we had to remove your womb,” a Hospitaler said. Lady Jubilee was shocked at the news. Womb gone—no more children? How could this be? Her bearing completely changed. Though she had now thirty children, the fact she could have no more filled her with such loss. “No sons for us … No sons for my Lord …” she moaned. The Hospitalers must surely think her mad.
Lord Stenstrom went to the nearby crib and picked up a bundle of blankets. “Here, Jubilee, see our son.”
She scowled, regaining her fury. “I’ll murder this infant before I’ve a chance to become devoted to him, you watch! You watch! I’ll not be heartbroken! I’ll not attend his funeral as I shall yours!”
The Hospitalers stood there, not quite knowing what to make of this display.
But, Lord Stenstrom, holding the perfect baby boy in his arms knelt down and showed him to Jubilee. She looked at the bundle and gasped with joy, her fury instantly forgotten.
“Look, look at our son.”
“Our son . . . .”
Their perfect baby boy. All it took was one look.
2 The House of Belmont-South Tyrol
Lady Jubilee of Tyrol hailed from the eastern Esther city of the same name. Although officially of Esther stock and occupying Esther lands to the northeast, the Tyrols had always considered themselves a separate tribe—the eighth tribe as they liked to say descended from the lost Tartans of old. During the time of the Elders, they mostly shunned the star-faring activities the Vith, Esthers, Remnaths and Zenons took up with relish, contenting themselves to stay in the eastern reaches of Esther, avoiding the stars and concerning themselves with things considered forbidden. They were a silver-haired, smoky people, divested in things arcane and non-Elder. There were supposedly mystical schools located somewhere in the craggy city that taught Black Magic, various sorceries, forbidden chemistries, dark herbals and other questionable subjects to their students, so much so that the Sisters often visited the region hoping to discover more about these alleged schools and what was taught there. The Lords of the City, however, were charming and quick-tongued, always able to side-track the Sisters and allay their sundry fears and suspicions. Tyrol was such a pretty place by the sea, the people silver-haired and lively, and, therefore, what bad things could possibly be going on under all that splendor?
The third daughter of seven, Lady Jubilee of House Tyrol was reputed to be a top graduate of one of those hidden schools of sorcery. It was said she knew how to brew poisons, cast spells, summon demons, construct death totems, and other such blasphemies that, should the Sisters become aware, were crimes punishable by death. She was medium-sized, fair-skinned and a tad plump in an attractive way. She bucked tradition and wore her silver Pewterlock hair short with a large, rather pronounced “swoop” of bangs parted on the side—her short hair becoming her personal trademark, making her instantly recognizable wherever she went. She had numerous “trademarks”—her short hair being one and her rather inflated bowling average being another. Carrying a 260-280 average, she was said to have bowled two consecutive 300 games. Not to be outdone, her confrontational nature was another notable trademark she bore. In her youth she was a feisty, rather catty woman, often feuding with this lady or that over minor slights and perceived insults, and was not above threatening to cast the occasional spell or curse to intimidate a rival or make her point clear. Lady Sephla of Cone once went to the Sisters complaining of an attack of warts—and that Lady Jubilee of Tyrol had done it via arcane methods. A great deal of angry letters and venomous encounters were exchanged after that incident, Lady Sephla demanding justice and hoping to see Lady Jubilee bending in the stocks for a day or two. Jubilee seldom allowed an occasion to pass without making her thoughts on Lady Sephla plainly known whether at home or in public, and she even bedded down her betrothed and wrote all about his various carnal strengths and shortcomings in the local postings.
Lady Jubilee wasn’t above a bit of harlotry to humiliate a rival.
Still, unpleasantness aside, Jubilee could be winsome and rather fetching and had the face of an angel with the demeanor to match—case in point—the day she met her husband to be.
She was enjoying a fabulous Nether Day ball in the city of Falz with several of her sisters. She’d had several dances with various gentlemen and excused herself to take a short rest. Smoking her usual cigarette behind the cover of a convenient potted plant, she overheard Lady Sephla of Cone’s younger sister Vendra excitedly speaking to her circle of friends regarding a handsome young gentleman of whom she was
very keen on. She had invited the fellow, Lord Stenstrom of Belmont, to the ball via correspondence and was positively taken with him. She announced to her friends that she was instantly in love. And they clapped and congratulated her.
Jubilee listened to all this and crushed out her cigarette. A churlish wave passed over her. Where was this man the foolish Vendra of Cone was babbling over—this Lord Stenstrom of Belmont? She was going to steal him, feed him, drink him, possibly bed him, and make a point of being loud about it. Let Vendra’s sister wail to the Sisters about that!
With bad intentions, she ventured out into the ball to perform her dirty work.
She spied about, trying to seek him out of the crowd.
Where was he, she didn’t know. She had to ask. A gentleman pointed him out. He was standing over there …
Over there.
Oh my.
Just look at him .
Lady Jubilee stopped in her tracks.
There was Lord Stenstrom of Belmont, the eighth son of a prominent Zenon House, standing by the tables, dressed in a Fleet uniform and framed in blue, getting punch for Lady Vendra. It was said she instantly fell in love with the handsome fellow at that moment, open mouthed and heart-struck. What began as a tawdry ploy to humiliate a rival’s sister, became the first moment of the rest of her life.
As per usual with Lady Jubilee, none of her exploits could pass without hints of sorcery or under-handed doings floating about. She got him away from Lady Vendra, turning on all of the considerable charm she possessed, casually engaging him, pulling him into privacy. A momentary word became a protracted aside, an innocent inquiry, and then a dance across the floor. It was said by her rivals that she put something in Lord Stenstrom’s drink that night, or cast him a potent spell. In any event, after their first dance together, Lord Stenstrom lost his heart to Lady Jubilee of Tyrol, their glittering night of dancing turning into a lifetime of love and devotion, as he soon made her his lady.
