By Order of the King

By Order of the King

By: Amanda Pate

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PROLOGUE:  OF MOURNING AND MARRIAGE

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“Push!” Etta encouraged the young woman lying on the bed. She was swollen with the small life within her and had been screaming for the last eight hours while enduring labor pains.

“It hurts so much!” Grevaine cried as another contraction gripped her body. Her hands, white with pressure, clung tightly to the blanket adorning her bed.

“The baby is crowning, my lady. Only a few more pushes and it will all be over,” she called above the shrill screams of the mother. “On three; one, two, three!”

Soon all the physical pain was over and in Etta’s arms lay a small child, red from the birthing and full of wailing that filled the entire manor. The midwife took the newborn over toward a wash basin and gently washed the infant with wet cloths along with rubbing salt on the skin to keep out infection.

Etta stared down at the wee babe in her arms and immediately felt love gush from her heart. The child’s skin was flawless, wails loud and proud, and already showing an unbelievable long fuzz of red hair upon the brow.

After wrapping the child in fresh linens, she turned back to the woman in the bed. Her dark hair was matted with sweat but in her eyes shown all the excitement of the world.

“Boy or girl?” she asked, eager to know. Grevaine had wanted a girl ever since Etta had delivered her first son some ten years ago.

The midwife smiled down at the exhausted yet glowing woman. “She is beautiful, my lady.” Etta placed the little baby girl in her mother’s arms, and as Grevaine stared widely and animatedly at the child, Etta began cleaning her up.

At the sound of a baby’s screams, the door creaked open to reveal Gareth, Lord of the manor and husband to the Lady Grevaine. He stepped fully inside and softly shut the door behind him. “What is it?” he asked cautiously, almost seeming afraid to know the answer.

“It’s a girl, Gareth; a lovely baby girl!” she held out the wailing bundle for him to hold, eyes glimmering with pride. “Come, hold her.”

Lord Gareth came closer and reached for the child to place her gently in his arms. As he took hold of the baby, Grevaine let out a blood curdling scream of pain and both arms flung from Gareth and the baby to clench her abdomen in agony.

Etta cursed as she began reaching for clean cloths, her hands drenched in blood from the hemorrhaging. Etta looked up at Grevaine, who made eye contact with her. Gareth’s panicked cries seemed to become background noise as the silent message was sent between the women’s eyes.

There was not much time.

Grevaine turned suddenly to her husband. “Gareth, listen to me,” she said calmly and slightly sleepily, lifting her hand to cover his cheek to let it drift down upon the baby. “Anna. That is her name. Promise me, Gareth.”

Her husband’s eyes swam with unshed tears as the full extent of the situation came crashing down around him.  He looked to Etta and then back to his dying wife. “Everything’s going to be alright. You’ll be fine, I promise,” he answered, grappling for any reassurance he could.

Etta shot glances up toward the couple as the mother’s words became more hushed and the pallor of her face dipped to white.

“Grevaine!  Do not leave me!” The woman’s eyelids slid shut as energy left her, but before she passed on, she whispered one word, “Anna.”

“NO!” Gareth cried in anguish, making the baby’s screams reach new heights.  In one arm he held the babe, and with the other, he held his wife’s body to his.

Etta watched the scene as tears rushed down her face. There was nothing she could do; nothing to bring her back. She watched the emotions run over the man’s face; Lord Gareth clutched Grevaine’s body and rocked her in time to his sobs as he held the new life in his other arm.

She walked over toward the man and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. “She’s gone, my lord.” Without looking up at her from his tear-drenched face, he placed Grevaine’s body back down on the bed, brushing back her damp hair from her face. She looked as if she were asleep, her dark hair made her look even that more pale. The widow stood back, away from her; his eyes were blank as he looked between his dead wife and his squealing newborn child.  He stood there only a short moment before holding out the crying infant to the midwife.