Cavall’s Heart: Daughters and Sons

“This was the worst one yet,” Lady Nalda told her son outside the bedroom. “Young Duke Baird insists that she rest now, so you must take care not to wake her.”

Wyldon sighed. “Mother, I’ve been through this three times before. I know what to expect.” He reached impatiently for the door handle, only to have his arm brushed aside.

“Wyldon, listen to me.” Nalda’s voice was low and severe. “Baird says she should have no more children – it is much to dangerous for her. And apparently this is not the first time this has been suggested. Your foolish quest for sons is taking its toll on her body, so you must stop this nonsense.”

His cold glare quieted her. “There will be no more children. Now please let me through so I can see my wife.”

She stepped aside, sniffing indignantly.

Wyldon entered the room quietly, although his anger – so barely held in check – demanded a hearty slam of the door. But the sight of his small, pale wife gently cradling his fourth daughter was enough to curb his annoyance. “I was told you were asleep,” he said softly, sitting in the chair next to the bed.

Vivenne smiled wearily. “I dozed off for a moment, but how could I sleep with this beautiful girl to admire?”

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Tired. Incredibly tired.”

“Mother told me you’d had a difficult time of it,” Wyldon said, brushing Vivenne’s dark hair from her face.

“The worst yet,” she said with a yawn. “Duke Baird says we were lucky to be in Corus – no Cavall midwife would’ve been able to handle the birthing.”

“The healers insist that we have no more children.”

She avoided his gaze, studying the infant instead. “What should we name her, Wyl?”

“Name her after your sister,” he suggested. He was fond of the Tusaini names in Vivenne’s family.

“Margarethe? No, that’s too formal.” She cooed at her daughter playfully. “Do you like Margarry?”

“What does it mean?” Although Wyldon knew Tusaini well, this word had never entered his vocabulary.

“Daisy,” Vivenne translated. “And she’s a beautiful little daisy, isn’t she?”

Wyldon smiled. “Yes, she is.” With great care, he took the baby from her mother’s arms. Like always. He was a little surprised by her smallness. Even with a two-year-old running about the house, he had forgotten how tiny infants were. Her eyes were as brown as his and she had every indication of inheriting Vivenne’s small nose and full mouth. “She’s lovely.”

Vivenne sat up further, wincing slightly. “Your mother suggested a permanent ward. Duke Baird offered to request a woman from the temple to do it. The palace healers don’t have any religious alignments, so we’ll need to bring someone in.”

Wyldon nodded. “That’s probably the best idea. I’d hate for an accident to lead to something worse.”

Vivenne sighed. “I always wanted a home full of children. I’m blessed to have four, but…” her voice trailed off and she stared at her hands.

Wyldon sat on the bed next to her, putting Margarry back into her arms. “I know, Vivenne,” he whispered. “And I know how much you wanted to have boys, as well as girls. But they’re right – they’ve been telling us since Solanne was born that we shouldn’t have any more.”

Vivenne nodded sadly. “I know you’re right. I should ask the duke to send for a priestess healer immediately.”

****

“I can’t believe you dealt with this four times,” Owen muttered to his father-in-law, pacing up and down the corridor.

“And I can’t believe that you’re a seasoned knight who can’t sit still for ten minutes,” Wyldon growled. “Sit down, Jesslaw.”

Owen sat. Within five minutes he was pacing again, stopping occasionally to press his ear to the door.

“You don’t want to do that.”

Jesslaw stepped away from the door, looking at his father-in-law inquisitively. “Because of the screams?” he asked, grey eyes troubled.

Wyldon shook his head. “Screams are nothing. You know that soldiers will scream and yell with any inkling of pain. It’s the crying between the yells that are difficult.” He stood up, rubbing his elbow slightly. His eyes were focused on the window at the end of the hall. “Must you be here? Should we go riding, perhaps? This has been known to take a long time.”

“Mithros curse you and your calmness,” Owen muttered, eyes flashing. It had taken him years to work up the nerve to remark angrily toward his father in law, let alone swear oaths and curses at him. Yet they made him feel no better; insults simply rolled off of the man. “I would prefer to stay here.”

A sharp yell from inside made them both jump. When the door opened, and the third Cavall daughter entered the hall, it was Lord Wyldon who reached her first.

“Paci, is everything going well?” he asked.

She glanced up at him, almost as if she were startled that anyone was addressing her. “My nephew is not coming easily.”

“You know it’s a boy?” Owen asked eagerly.

Pacienne shrugged. “I’ve known for months. But no, he hasn’t made his way out yet.” With that she glided down the hallway and headed down the stairs.

“I’m going to kill her one of these days,” Owen growled.

Wyldon nodded in agreement. “She’s yet to be wrong, though. She’s been a Seer since she was a child, and has always told us truths. If she saw a boy, you will have a son.”

“A son…” Owen’s voice trailed off, and he sat down on the bench in front of the lone window lighting the passage. “I never imagined. I mean, of course I imagined what it’d be like to have a son or daughter, but I didn’t want to focus on either because I didn’t want to be disappointed that those dreams wouldn’t come true. I’d be happy with a girl – more than happy – but I’m glad to have a Jesslaw heir, if that’s what’s bound to happen.”

Wyldon shook his head, smiling slightly. “It makes no difference, you know.” He sat next to his son-in-law. “My friends and comrades were always sympathetic when Vivenne and I had girls. They assumed that boys were all a family could want or need.”

“The Jesslaw clan is almost entirely male,” Owen said with a lopsided grin. “I don’t think it did us well.”

“In this case, I think I agree with you. I never wanted my family any other way. Not having an heir is not terrible. There might be some knight out there – a second son like I was – who has merited a fief, but has no claim to one. That’s how Cavall came to me, and I could hardly begrudge it being passed along that way again.” He gazed at his son-in-law thoughtfully. “No, I certainly wouldn’t trade one of my girls for ten boys.”

Paci came back into the hall, carrying several blankets. The dreamy expression was still in her dark eyes. When she saw Owen, however, she smiled in a very down-to-earth manner. “It’s almost time,” she whispered.

She stepped back into the birthing chamber, allowing snippets of conversation and Margarry’s heavy breathing to reach the ears of the concerned fathers. The two men remained silent after the door closed again, listening to the struggles within.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was nearer to twenty minutes, a silence fell over the house. Owen and Wyldon could hear the murmurs within the room, and the high-pitched cry of an infant.

When they were finally permitted inside, Owen rushed to his wife’s side, nearly tripping over the elderly Lady Nalda of Rosemark, who sat in a chair near the door after hours of advising the delivery. A young midwife slipped out of the room, and Lord Wyldon stopped her.

“Everything went well?” he asked, his voice low. “There were no complications?”

“None, sir,” the girl replied, curtseying prettily. “She is a healthy woman, and the baby was positioned properly. They will have plenty of more babies in their lives.”

“Thank you,” he said warmly, then went into the room to meet his newest grandchild.