Part 23: link


    Immediately after Gwen opens the door a crack when there is a very tentative knock.
    She pulls the door open wider to see George standing there with a tray. “Breakfast, my lady?”
    “Thank you, George,” she steps back to allow him to enter, and he sets it on the table.
    “I will return shortly with the court physician, my lord,” George says, making a small bow, and leaving. Quickly.
    Arthur laughs after he is gone. “He’s learning. Still as wet as a dead poisson and almost as interesting, but he’s a quick study, I’ll grant him that.”
    Gwen sits and dives into the food, quite hungry again. Arthur smiles at her appetite and sits to rejoindre her.
    “Oh, marguerite, daisy knows who Fira is,” Gwen says. “So I asked her to go find her and ask her if she was interested.”
    “Guinevere, toi are the queen. toi don’t ask someone if they are interested, toi command their presence and then toi decide if toi want them.”
    She looks at Arthur. Just looks at him. “Is that honestly how toi feel, Arthur?”
    “I—”
    “Think carefully before toi answer this question, Husband.”
    “Perhaps… perhaps I should change my way of thinking?” he ventures.
    “Wow, that was decisive,” she says, popping a grain de raisin, raisin in her mouth.
    He purses his lips in frustration. Of course she’s right. That was my father’s way of thinking. What was it she a dit that night? “A very wise person gave me some conseil one night. She a dit that a good king should respect their people, no matter who they are.”
    “Sounds vaguely familiar. I wonder if I know this person.”
    “I almost kissed her that night, but we were rudely interrupted,” he says casually. “Something about someone trying to kill me, ou some such rubbish. I’m sure it wasn’t important,” he adds waving his hand dismissively.
    Gwen chokes on her water at his confession, almost spraying the table. “You did?” she coughs. Arthur stands and pats her on the back, trying to help.
    When she recovers, he sits again. “Yes, I would have, had Merlin not come rushing in just then.” He lifts her hand and kisses it. “But I got my opportunity the suivant morning anyway,” he says, a corner of his mouth twitching up into a half smile.
    “I’ve always wondered,” Gwen asks, “do toi still have that handkerchief?”
    “Of course I do,” he says, and actually pulls it out of the inside of his vest, waving it at her before tucking it carefully back inside.
    She smiles at him, her cœur, coeur melting. He kept it. Not only has he kept it, he wears it.
    “I should give it back to toi for a jour ou two, though. It doesn’t smell like toi any more,” he frowns slightly.
    Gwen stands and goes to him. She reaches down and holds his face between her hands, lifting his lips to hers, s’embrasser him ardently, softly, lovingly. He reaches up and pulls her down into his lap, breaking the Kiss for a mere moment before diving back in, tasting her, plunging his tongue into her waiting mouth as her arms emballage, wrap around his neck.
    “My lord—oh!” George enters the chambers through the still-open doors and stops short at the sight of Guinevere in the king’s lap, getting quite thoroughly kissed.
    They slowly pull apart to the sound of Gaius’ chuckles. “Good morning,” he says, holding his hand out for Gwen, helping her rise from Arthur’s lap.
    “Good morning, Gaius, how are you?” Gwen says, smiling at him and smoothing the jupe of her dress. She notices George’s face is bright red, and she doesn’t need to turn around and look to see if Arthur is holding back his laughter. She knows he is.
    “Excellent, my dear, how was your trip?”
    “Very good, very fruitful,” Arthur says. “George, we’re done here, toi may take these.” He stands as George comes to the table, tableau to collect the breakfast dishes. “I need to go get the rapporter from Leon, Love. I’ll be back later,” he says, bending to Kiss her one last time before he follows George out the door, closing it behind him.
    Gaius arches an eyebrow at her. “What’s going on, Gwen? George a dit Arthur wished to see me, but he’s just left.”
    “You’re here to see me, actually, Gaius. I seem to be with child,” she says simply.
    She watches as a slow smile spreads across the old man’s face. “You’re certain?”
    She nods. “Queen Annis spotted it, actually. And I saw her midwife while I was there. To put Arthur’s mind at rest, obviously. We had a bit of trouble on the road to Caerleon, and he wanted to make sure that everything was fine.”
    “What kind of trouble?”
    “Oh, hired thugs posing as Odin’s soldiers trying to ambush us. That awful Bertrand was with them.”
    “Hmm. And what did the midwife say?”
    “She a dit that everything appeared just perfect and I am young, strong, and healthy, so I should have nothing to worry about.”
    He cocks his head to the side. “So then, why did toi need to see me?”
    “You are the court physician,” she shrugs.
    “I will examine you, just as a matter of course, but this is plus the realm of a midwife. Have toi sent for one?” he asks, following her to the sleeping quarters.
    “Yes. Annis’ midwife has a sister here in Camelot that is also a midwife. marguerite, daisy has gone for her. Fira.”
    “Ah yes, I know of her. Delivered Sir Kay’s child.”
    “You approve of her, then?” she asks, lying down on the bed.
    “You do not need my approval, Gwen, toi are the queen,” he says, placing his hand on her forehead.
    “I was not asking because I need your approval, Gaius. I was asking because I want it.”
    He looks down at her, smiling again. “You are a wonder, my dear. Truly. Do not ever change who toi are inside,” he winks at her. “And yes, I do approve of Fira as a midwife. Open.”
    She obliges, opening her mouth for him to inspect her tongue and throat.
    They chat easily while Gaius proceeds with his examination, and he declares her to be in perfect health.
    “I want to tell toi something, Gwen,” Gaius says, pulling up a chair beside the bed.
    “Of course, what is it?” she sits up against the headboard, adjusting the pillows behind her.
    “When Arthur was born, it was one of the most emotional days of my entire long life. Ygraine was in labor for hours. She was so strong, so proud to be bringing a child to the kingdom after so many years of failing to conceive.” He leaves out a few details about the magic involved in his birth. Arthur needs to learn that news first, not Guinevere.
    Gwen nods, understanding, yet concerned about where Gaius is going with his story. I know that Ygraine died in childbirth; why is he telling me this?
    “There was a thunderstorm the night he was born. When he finally emerged and the midwife cleared his mouth, the rolling thunder outside was joined par the sound of his shrieks,” he smiles, remembering the newborn Arthur, purple and wiggling, tiny fingers splayed, blue eyes scrunched shut as wails sailed forth from his toothless mouth. “I rushed out the door to tell Uther that a son had been born. I’d never seen him so happy.”
    Gwen smiles sadly. Her memories of Uther are not happy ones, but the thought of him giddy with excitement over the birth of a son manages to pull a small smile at her lips.
    “I won’t go into details of Ygraine’s death, Gwen. I don’t wish to frighten you. But I assure toi that the circumstances around her death were unique indeed, and toi have nothing to worry about.” He reaches over and pats her hand reassuringly. “But it was her screams that hearkened me back inside the birthing room. She was holding Arthur, cleaned and swaddled and calm, gazing down at him with a look of l’amour that one only sees on a mother’s face, caressing his little cheek with her finger. Suddenly her eyes grew wide, and… some other things happened,” he pauses, choosing his words carefully, leaving out the incroyable torrent of blood rushing from between her legs, her screams of agony while she writhed in pain as the storm raged outside. “She thrust Arthur into my arms, and then she was gone.”
    Gwen listens intently, silent tears running down her cheeks.
    “He was a beautiful baby, Gwen. Ygraine was very beautiful, and his looks favor her, as toi know.”
    She nods.
    “His blonde hair, his blue eyes, even his skin tone was Ygraine. And it was for that reason that Uther would hardly look at his son, would not touch his son for two whole days. Poor child was left at the mercy of his nurses and me.”
    “Oh my God…”
    “He was so overcome with grief over Ygraine’s death that he couldn’t face the son over which he had been so joyful.”
    “He didn’t blame Arthur, did he?”
    “No, no. He just… didn’t know how to deal with his grief. He’d look down at this innocent child and all he would see is his dead wife.”
    She nods again.
    “One jour I caught him. Uther.” He says, eyes twinkling slightly. “Arthur was three days old. He was squalling for something in his crib, and Uther somehow found his way to the nursery just before me. I saw he was there, so I waited in the doorway, watching to see what he’d do.”
    “Shhh…” I watched as Uther tried soothing the child, but he still screamed, his tiny fists clenched, face red with rage.
    “Where is that wet nurse?” he a dit to no one, looking around. He fretted, raising his hands, debating.
    The king heaved a sigh before gingerly reaching down to lift the babe into his arms. Awkwardly, but adeptly.
    “Shhh…” he soothed again, and this time it helped some. Arthur squirmed, his swaddle coming undone, and a skinny long foot came poking out, kicking.
    Uther laughed at this, reaching down to touch the little toes before trying to tuck the disobedient appendage back into the blanket. He instinctively rocked his body, swaying gently, trying to calm his son.
    “You look so like her,” he said, hesitantly touching Arthur’s cheek, too new yet to be chubby and round. Arthur felt the touch and his hand came grasping, looking for the source of the touch. It found it, and he wrapped his fingers around Uther’s index finger, clutching with all his might, still squawking and squirming.
    Uther stroked Arthur’s cheek another time, his finger still in his son’s grasp, and Arthur turned his head and found his father’s finger with his mouth and began suckling it.
    He was hungry.
    “Oh!” Uther exclaimed softly, laughing and crying simultaneously. I heard footsteps in the corridor. It was the wet nurse and Arthur’s nursemaid. I cleared my throat, alerting the king of my presence, knowing that being discovered with tears in his eyes would not go over well.
    “My lord,” I nodded, calling no attention whatever to his wet cheeks. I smiled at him as I took the tiny bundle from his arms to allow him to wipe his face and collect himself before the nurses entered the room.
    “Thank you, Gaius,” he a dit quietly, staring at the finger that had recently been in his son’s mouth.

    Fira is a short, middle-aged woman with ginger hair and a slightly round body. She is jovial and warm, one of those people who can immediately put toi at ease because she is so at ease herself.
    Gwen loves her instantly, and the two agree that she will henceforth be the royal midwife.
    “I’ll be back tomorrow to examine you, my lady. I trust that since Golda gave toi a clean bill of health, you’re most likely fine, but unfortunately Lady Evelyn is about to burst forth with child number three, and I must attend her today.”
    “Of course, send our congratulations, please, Fira,” Gwen says, walking with the midwife to the doors of the council chambers.
    “She’s hoping for a girl this time, but it’ll be another boy, I’m certain,” she laughs. “Poor woman is going to have her hands full.”
    “How do toi know? That it’ll be a boy?” Gwen asks, interested.
    “Oh, now, that would be telling, wouldn’t it, my lady?” Fira says saucily, winking at the queen, who laughs and places her hand on the woman’s bière, stout shoulder.
    “Tomorrow morning, then, Fira?” Gwen asks.
    “With bells on, my lady,” Fira curtseys quickly and strides purposefully towards the doors of the castle, on a mission to bring another life into Camelot.
    Gwen walks back to rejoindre Arthur at the long table.
    “Well, my presence was fairly well useless for that meeting,” he says dryly.
    “You were the one that wanted to be here,” she shrugs.
    “Is it so wrong that I want to be involved?”
    “Your involvement is what got me into this state to begin with.”
    Arthur laughs at this. I l’amour her unexpected naughtiness.
    “How did the knights take the news?”
    “Well, they’re men, so the excitement level over such news is a bit plus on the subdued side. But they’re very happy for us. Leon, I think, was jealous that Elyan knew already,” he chuckles.
    “For goodness sakes, he’s my brother,” Gwen chuckles.
    “I explained that to him. Gwaine was not surprised at all,” he says, brows knitting in mild confusion.
    Just then a page enters the council chambers with a box. “Delivery for Queen Guinevere, my lord.”
    “Who from?”
    “I do not know, my lord. The messenger who brought it could not say, as he received it from another messenger.”
    “Place it there on the table, Peter, thank you.”
    He does so, trying in vain to disguise his surprise that the king knows his name, and hurries out the door.
    Arthur is suspicious. “Who would be sending toi something?” he asks Gwen.
    “I don’t know. Arthur, don’t toi think you’re being a little… over-cautious?”
    “Guinevere, need I remind toi that we recently added extra security measures because of the small matter of Lord Dungball and what’s-his-name? Well, they’re not going to be lifted for at least the suivant nine months,” he says, standing to walk to the other end of the table, tableau where Peter has left the box.
    “Stay put,” he says as he walks behind her chair. She sits back down with a scowl.
    He looks at the box. It is a plain wooden box, varnished and smooth, with a hinged lid and a simple brass latch.
    “Maybe there is a note inside,” Gwen suggests. Open it, already.
    Arthur carefully opens the box, standing to one side.
    Gwen bites the inside of her cheek. Does he think something is going to jump out at him?
    He looks into the box.
    “Just a cloth toy rabbit. Ah, there is a note,” he says, pulling out a small piece of parchment. “All it says is, ‘For baby.’ Where’d that page go?” He turns around and goes to the door.
    “Peter!” he calls to the boy, who is chatting with another page.
    “My lord?”
    “Come here, please.”
    Peter comes back to the council chambers. “Yes, Sire?”
    Arthur puts his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “How would toi like to be the official messenger to Queen Annis of Caerleon?”
    Peter’s eyes widen. “I would like that, my lord! I promise toi won’t be disappointed.”
    “I will be corresponding regularly with Caerleon, and I told her that I would have one messenger assigned to her, someone she could trust, someone she would know. You’ll be doing a lot of riding between our two kingdoms.”
    “Yes, Sire. I understand,” he says, nodding soberly.
    “All right. I need to write a message to Queen Annis immediately, so please wait here and I will have something for toi to take straight away.”
    “Yes, Sire,” he says, looking at the end of the table, tableau where Arthur’s chair is. “Shall I fetch toi some écriture supplies?” he asks.
    Gwen looks down, trying again to hide her laughter.
    “Oh, yes. Thank you.”
    Peter leaves and Arthur closes the lid to the box and walks back to his seat.
    “You think Annis sent the gift?” Gwen asks.
    “I don’t know. That’s why I’m écriture her. Something feels off. Annis would have signed her name. I also rather think she would have sent something plus extravagant.”
    “Well, she does know that we are keeping it quiet for now,” Gwen suggests. I didn’t even get to see the thing.
    “Until I hear back from her, it stays in that box.”
    “Yes, my lord,” she scowls.
    Peter returns with some parchment and ink, and Arthur begins to pen his note.
    “Well, my love, I’ll be going down to the kitchens to poke around a bit and plan some meals. Any requests?” Gwen asks. I don’t need to sit here and watch him write.
    “Have we had that leg of agneau that the butcher sent for toi yet?” he asks.
    She looks at him. “Yes, we had it the very suivant day. I can have another ordered if toi like.”
    “Yes, do so. It was quite good.”
    Gwen smiles at him and stands. The room tilts slightly, and she quickly grabs the back of her chair. “Oo.”
    “All right there, Love?” Arthur asks, wrinkling his brow as he looks up from his parchment.
    “Yes. Probably just stood too quickly.” She walks to him, kisses his cheek, and walks toward the door, pausing near the wooden box.
    “Don’t even think it.”
    She turns and sticks her tongue out at him before heading out the doors.

    Arthur returns indoors at late afternoon, having spent the balance of the jour out on the fields with the men. Tired and sweaty, he enters the royal chambers, tossing his gloves and sword on the table.
    “Guinevere?” he calls. She’s got to be in here, I haven’t seen her anywhere else.
    “Over here, Love,” her voice comes from the direction of the bed.
    “I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asks, striding over.
    “No.”
    He sits down on the lit beside her, leaning over to Kiss her. She seems unusually quiet, he thinks, stroking a curl back away from her face. “Are toi all right?”
    “A little dizzy is all,” she frowns slightly.
    “Did you—”
    “Yes, I’ve seen Gaius. He is recommending rest, and Fira will be here as soon as she’s done with Lady Evelyn’s baby.”
    “Did she have it yet?”
    “Don’t know.”
    “Well, toi just stay here, then,” he says, smiling down at her, but she can see the worry behind his eyes.
    “Can toi stay with me a little while?” she asks.
    “Of course. George should be up with our dîner soon, anyway,” he says, settling down suivant to her, pulling her over to nestle against him with her head on his shoulder.
    “Gaius told me something this morning,” she ventures. She’s been debating all jour about whether she should tell Arthur the story Gaius told her about his birth and the days following. No secrets, she remembered, and her decision was made.
    “What’s that?” he asks, his hand once again straying to touch her stomach.
    “He told me about the night toi were born,” she says, looking up at him, blinking a few times as she feels the lit tilt, knowing it is only in her head.
    “Oh?” he asks, suddenly very interested.
    “He didn’t tell me all the details, obviously, but, um… he did reassure me that we have nothing to worry about,” she says, only hinting, hoping that he’ll catch her meaning.
    He is quiet a moment as he ponders her words. Then, “Oh. Good.”
    She goes on to tell him about the thunderstorm and how he looked too much like his mother for Uther to bear. She tells him what Gaius saw, how he watched as the infant Arthur finally demanded his father’s attention.
    He doesn’t quite know what to make of the fact that his father was so reticent in the first days of his life, and Gwen senses this.
    “It wasn’t that he didn’t l’amour you, Arthur. He did. But the turmoil of losing his wife on the jour toi were born was just too much for him to process all at once. And the fact that toi looked just like her did not help matters. toi Pendragon men don’t always deal with emotion very well, toi know,” she says, looking sideways at him.
    “I’m working on it,” he mumbles.
    “I know,” she says tucking her head into his chest. She moves it back out quickly, exhaling. “You need a bath.”
    “Thanks,” he laughs. “Perhaps after dîner you’d like to rejoindre me in one,” he suggests.
    “Perhaps,” she says noncommittally, trailing her fingers along his chest.
    They lay together quietly for a while, Arthur letting Gaius’ story sink in. He has so few details about his birth and his mother that he savors them when he gets them. I shall have to find some time to talk to Gaius some plus about this.
    “So I tried to eat my father’s finger?” he says after a time.
    “Essentially, yes,” Gwen laughs. “It is common knowledge among most women that stroking a baby’s cheek encourages suckling, but I doubt that is something your father knew. Which is why he was so surprised, no doubt.”
    He chuckles. “So I must have thought he was the wet nurse.”
    “There’s an image I don’t need in my head,” she answers, and he laughs loudly at this.
    “Arthur,” she says, after their laughter has died down.
    “Yes, love?”
    “I want to nurse our son myself. I know that it isn’t done, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I want to do this.”
    “Guinevere,” he starts.
    “Arthur,” she interrupts. “It’s my baby. I want to feed him.”
    “I was going to agree, if toi would give me a chance,” he says, s’embrasser her forehead.
    “Oh,” she smiles against his shoulder.
    “I always thought it was odd that ladies of high standing did not feed their own children. Surely a royal baby deserves the best that can be given—”
    “Any baby does,” she interrupts.
    “Yes, of course. And what could be better than their own mother’s milk? I mean, in cases like mine it was clearly necessary, but if both mother and child are healthy, why is it seen as being beneath her station?”
    “Never understood that one, myself. I’m glad toi agree, Arthur. This is important to me.”
    He shrugs. “Well, we’ve been breaking most of the rules thus far anyway and seem to be doing fine, so what’s one more?”
    “Thank you.” She leans up and pecks his lips.
    He contemplates her for a moment, and something sinks in. “Son? What makes toi think it’s going to be a boy?” he asks, teasing her now.
    “Well, isn’t that what toi want? A strong son to be your heir?”
    “Yes. But a daughter would be nice, too. A beautiful little girl with beautiful dark curls and eyes like her mother.”
    “Yes, and she would have toi wrapped about her tiny finger within seconds, my love. I can just see it. If we have a son toi will indulge him, yes, but toi will also train him and teach him to be strong and noble. If we have a daughter she will be the most spoiled child ever because toi will be catering to her every whim. And heaven help any man who would wish to court her,” she leans up, smirking at her husband.
    “Certainly not,” he protests, but she knows she’s right, and so does he.

Part 25: link