Sherwood Rogue

Chapter Twenty-Three

The child came in April. It was so early on the sixteenth that it might have actually been on the fifteenth. I went into hard labor immediately after dinner on the fourteenth.

How could I describe the feeling? It was like I was pinned to the ground under an onslaught of ocean waves. I couldn't breathe properly, and the pressure came and went like the waves, starting in my belly and spreading through my entire body. The pain was intense, like someone twisting my spinal cord. There were times during the nearly thirty hours of labor when I would have considered it a mercy to fall out the window and end it all on the flagstones of the courtyard.

Andrea stayed by my side through the long, long hours of labor. I was scarcely aware of her, unaware of calling out Will's name. Afterward, Will told me it had taken both Norman and Russell, the stable hand, to keep him out of the room the first time I'd screamed. It wasn't until later I thought about how often women here died in childbed, and I counted my lucky stars things went so well.

Andrea washed the babe in lukewarm water, then wrapped the squealing thing in a soft cloth and laid it on my belly. "It's a boy," she said.

I closed my eyes. A boy. Another contraction, softer this time, assailed my body. I involuntarily clutched my baby boy. He screeched for a moment, then settled in to suckle. His tiny warmth was like a fire in my heart. I could have cried out in joy at the love I felt for this little human.

"I witness this child's birth—alive, healthy, and male," said Andrea. "What do you name him?"

It was common practice at birthing to ask for a name. Will and I had talked about it, but I was so very tired, I almost forgot the name we had chosen. "Paul," I whispered. With the child still suckling, I fell asleep.

When Will came to visit the next day, his face lit up when he held his son. "You named him Paul?" he asked. I nodded. "He's such a strong boy, yes?" He cooed at the child, then looked at me and grinned. "I think I'm going to like being a father."

***

MOTHERHOOD DID NOT COME EASILY to me. Diapers and I didn't agree. I often desperately wished for some Huggies. I was supposed to be bonding with my child, but I didn't understand any of his cries. After six straight nights of no sleep, Will and I agreed we would hire a nanny. I didn't get along with the first two women we tried, but the third was indeed the charm.

With the nanny chosen, I settled down to the business of learning how to care for my son. My son! The love I felt for him burned like a fierce fire in my heart every time I looked at this fragile being. But I was afraid to pick him up, afraid to do more than caress this defenseless babe.

Sybil, our nanny, assured me I would get over the fear. But even after I grew accustomed to holding him in my arms, as well as my heart, apprehension remained. I didn't understand or remember what it was to be a child. There were so many mistakes that could be . . . would be made.

A year rolled by, with the growing child to mark its passage. I spent my time helping take care of Paul and trying to get myself back into shape. He grew quickly. By one year, he had most of his baby teeth and was walking well.

I rode around the common quite a lot the first months to keep my seat on a horse in good practice. I went to see Anne and showed Jamie a trick or two with a bow. Sydney visited Anne often and was teaching the boy how to wield a sword, but he was no hand with a bow, so I taught him.

Much came every month to get supplies for Bran. By April first of Paul's first year, I was ready, and had time, to ride out to meet my outlaws again.

Riding out in the spring morning, the scent of fresh air made me happy to be going into the forest again. It had been a long time since I ventured into the deep woods, and I reveled in the peaceful beauty of it.