The Beast of Caer Baddan (45 page)

I never thought it would be like this.

Gentle tears filled her eyes.

The servants dragged in a wide shallow bucket that they placed on the floor by Leola's bed. More entered with pitchers of warm water, and Gytha carried in a stack of fresh towels.

Leola sniffed the air as the steam filled the room with the pleasant aroma of crushed lavender.

Two other women took the babies from Leola's arms.

“They are the nurses, Mistress,” Gytha said.

Nurses?

It never occurred to Leola that anyone but herself would be taking care of her babies. But then she was a princess now, and that fact made everything different.

“Mistress,” the nurses said in Latin.

The servant women lifted Leola from the bed and stood her up in the center of the shallow bucket. They then poured the water over her breast and back, washing the blood and sweat away.

Leola was so exhausted that she did not care that they were washing her. The warm water felt good on her sensitive skin and the lavender seemed to heal her secret chamber.

So there is an advantage to being an aetheling's wife.

She was sure that although her aunt would have cared for her in her labor, Redburga could not have washed her, nor could her young cousins have looked after the babies for any given length of time. Leola would have had to do a great deal herself after giving birth to twins.

As the servants dried Leola off, others came in and took the blankets, now stained with blood where Leola had lain down, and replaced them with clean ones.

One servant woman found the knife with the ring tied to it by the red chord, and moved them aside to the table.

As Leola's eyes fell on these things, her thoughts went wild.

She saw Owain again in her mind as vividly as if he were walking in through the doorway to her bedroom. She felt his calloused hands gently cradle her cheeks as if she was a fine crystal.

Leola was now certain that he had walked into the mead hall looking for a wife. He had searched the hall for someone to make his princess and picked her from over two hundred other women. He had chosen her over taller women, prettier women, women with larger eyes and softer hands.  She really didn't care why he had done so. She was glad he had.

She felt that he would have been proud of the babies and would have loved them, just as he seemed to have lavished affection so freely on Gratianna.

“Gytha,” Leola said, as the servants laid her back down on the bed and wrapped new blankets around her. “Can you have Gratianna come in here? She shall wish to see her new brothers.”

“Yea, Mistress,” Gytha replied, and she turned to another servant and gave the order.

The child was soon there, her own nurse running in behind her.

“Oh, Mama!” she squealed, and then with a cautious look towards her nurse, she lowered her voice to an excited whisper. “My babies! I want my babies!”

The nurses laid the infants back down by Leola's side, and Leola beckoned the child to come and see. Gratianna climbed onto the bed and bent over her tiny brothers.

“God keep you, Babies,” she whispered. “I am Gratianna, your sister.”

Leola giggled.

“They are so tiny,” the child said, in awe. “I thought they would be bigger.”

“They shall grow,” Leola replied.

“They are looking at me!” Gratianna gasped.

Leola noticed that both of the infants peered up at their sister.

“You look like Tada,” Gratianna said to one of them, “and you look like Mama,” she said to the other.

Leola didn't know what the child meant by that, for the babies were so tiny and red, she doubted that anyone could tell if they looked like one parent or another.

Gratianna's excitement over her new brothers soon exhausted the child so much that she curled up on the foot of the bed and fell asleep.

Leola watched all three until a quiet peace flooded over her.

She thought how unfulfilled she had been in Anlofton, and how empty she seemed in Holton before that. Now that she was the mother of three adorable children, for she felt that Gratianna was her own as well, she was both satisfied and at peace.

Leola missed her aunt and cousins and wished that there was a way to get word to her so that she would know that she was well and that she had given birth. But she no longer had that grave longing in her heart.

Wouldn't they be so pleased to see my sons? They are the most glorious creatures in all the world.

Perhaps that was to be expected, for she was certain that Owain was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

“Beauty.”

That was what Owain had called her, with all of the affection and acceptance that that word entailed.

With that last thought, she drifted off to sleep.

“Da!”
Owain cried, as if to escape some torture.

“You are returned, I think, from under the earth, I think,” a voice said. “You were dead but now are back from the under-earth, you are. You must eat, you must.”

Owain opened his eyes again to see an old hermit at the other end of the little hut. The hermit crawled over to where Owain sat on the sleeping mat and handed out a bowl to him.

“You do not speak, I think,” the hermit said. “But try to eat, try.”

The hermit laid the bowl into Owain's shaking hands.

“Try,” he said, again.

Owain took the wooden spoon and scooped up a mouthful of the porridge. He winced as he tried to swallow.

“It is hot, I think,” the hermit said.

Owain twisted his body in the hope of gaining a more comfortable position but a flooding pain filled his back.

“Ugh!” he cried.

His hands shook, and the hermit quickly took back the bowl lest Owain spill porridge all over.

“You must rest, I think,” the hermit said. “Ie, rest.
Rest.”

Owain lay back down, but the pain seemed to consume his whole back.

“Wha-” he gasped.

But he could not form a question on his stiff lips.

Leola did not know how long she had been dreaming but when she woke, Gytha brought her something to drink.

“The master is here waiting to see you, Mistress,” Gytha said.

Leola started at the word “master,” for it was the same title she had called Owain many months before.

Gytha opened the door for King Irael and curtsied as he entered.

“Are you well, Leola?” he asked, taking a chair by her bed.

“I am, Father,” she replied.

She lifted a weary hand and brushed the soft red fuzz on the babies' heads to one side.

“They’re beautiful,” the king said.

Leola thought she saw a hint of longing in his green eyes.

“Aren’t they?” and she giggled. “I did not realize there were two of them.”

The king laughed. “Your mother had twins, did she not?” he asked.

“That is true,” Leola replied. “She did. And she was a twin herself. My aunt Redburga and my mother were.”

“How fortunate we are.”

“What’s this?” Leola asked, touching the purple cord that was tied around one baby’s right wrist.

“He is the elder, the first born, the heir to the Kingdom of Glouia,” the king replied.

An heir in place of your son.

Leola noted the serenity and awe in his face, as he gazed down at the sleeping infants.

“They look like Owain did when he was born,” he said, choking back tears. “Perhaps they are a little smaller and a little redder.”

“Do you want to hold them?” she asked.

“No, no. Not I,” the king said, putting both hands in defense.

Leola thought his reaction odd but did not mention it.

“My nephew, Prince Britu, has returned to Venta,” King Irael said. “So it shall be quiet for a few days.”

Leola sighed in relief. She was too weary to even look on that man. She hoped it would be a long time before he visited Baddan once more.

“You must get as much rest as you can before King Emrys and his wife Queen Madge arrive,” the king continued.

“Who are they?” Leola asked.

“They shall be the children’s godparents. King Emrys is renowned for his wisdom and charity, and Queen Madge is one of the most revered people in Albion. They have been good friends to me for over fifteen years.”

A godparents then, as their father is gone and their grandfather ill.

Leola did not wish to think about King Irael's impending death, but knew that she must be prepared for it, and powerful friends would be of the highest advantage.

Something about the babies and her presence there, even her marriage, seemed to stare at her, demanding that she speak.

“Father,” Leola said, choosing her words with care. “Did Owain marry me, hoping that I would bear him a son?”

King Irael gave a long sigh and looked off into the empty space, before he slowly nodded his graying head.

“He knew that he was to die and wanted me to have an heir,” he said at last.

Leola let out a sigh of her own.

“Does it hurt you to know?” he
asked, his voice cautious and tender.

“No,” Leola said, simply. “I know that he did not love me. I am not
so naive as that.”

Leola was positive that Owain could have taken any woman in that mead hall and had chosen her. Perhaps he had done so because
her saw her crossed herself, or because her ankle was hurt, or because he really did like to look on her. Leola suspected that it had been a little of each and did not mind. He still would not have married her if he had thought her ugly or unpleasant.

“Owain wanted a son, Father,” Leola said aloud. “He would be so pleased if he knew that he now has two.”

“He would,” the king replied. “But, Leola, babies or not, I'm glad that he married you, and I'm pleased that you are here with Gratianna and I.”

He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I shall let you rest, Daughter,” he said. “Sleep well.”

“I shall.”

He bent over her, kissed her on the top of her head, and went out.

Leola lay back in her bed and closed her eyes.