'Here now, lass,' admonished Dame Hulda, raising her head at the sound of Ailith's loud sniff. 'There's no cause for that. You put your boy to suckle and thank God you be safely delivered.'
Ailith swallowed and placed the baby inexpertly to her breast. His head rooted back and forth, snuffling and seeking. Finally he latched onto her nipple, but once he had it in his mouth, he took two weak sucks and then pulled away with a feeble wail. 'He's not hungry,' Ailith said anxiously.
'Some bairns are like that at first,' Hulda said comfortingly. 'Besides, he popped out of you so fast that like as not he's got a mortal sore head. Ah, here comes the afterbirth. Push when I tell you, mistress.'
Later when the baby had been bathed and his gums rubbed with honey and salt in the age-old tradition, Hulda wrapped him in linen swaddling and laid him in the bed beside his mother. Although she said nothing to Ailith, the midwife was concerned. The child was very small — no bigger than one born a full moon early, although she knew that Ailith had gone to her full time. His extremities had a bluish tinge and the rest of his body was unhealthily pale. Ailith had tried to suckle him again, and Hulda had observed that although the infant was interested in the sustenance, he did not have the strength to suck for long.
'How do you intend naming him?' she asked, thinking that the sooner the babe was christened, the better.
'Goldwin desires him to be Harold, but I am not so sure. It doesn't seem to be a name that carries good fortune with it.' Ailith sighed. 'Edward perhaps. It is a good English name, but with Norman connections.'
Hulda snorted and folded her arms vigorously beneath her breasts, making it quite clear what she thought of that notion. 'And if King Edward hadn't been so fond of all things Norman, our King Harold need never ha' died.'
Ailith chewed her lip. 'Hulda, I know what you think about the Normans. God knows, the ambition of their Duke has caused much grief in this household, but I want you to do something for me.' Hulda raised her brows, and Ailith plunged on before her nerve failed her. 'Will you take a message to Felice de Remy at the convent of St Aethelburga, and tell her that I send my greetings and the news that I have been safely delivered of a son?'
Hulda eyed her darkly. 'I don't know as I should,' she muttered.
'Please, I would not ask unless it was important. It may be that we will need her goodwill in the months to come, and I want to keep our friendship fresh in her memory. I promised I would send word as soon as I was delivered, and she did the same.'
'Very well, mistress,' Hulda capitulated, still looking none too impressed. 'But it will have to wait until I'm up that way. I'll not make a special journey'
And with that Ailith had to be content.
Goldwin came home at dusk. His face was grey with fatigue and Ailith could see from a single glance that he had pushed himself too far. But there was a sparkle in his eyes that had been absent for a long, long time. He sat down heavily beside her on the bed and she presented him with the son born in his absence.
Goldwin cradled the sleeping baby gingerly in his arms and gazed into the puckered little face. 'God save us, Aili, I've never seen anything so small in all my life,' he said in a voice of wonder.
'Hulda says he'll grow.' Ailith's voice was a trifle defensive, but then she smiled. 'His eyes are going to be dark like yours, and his hair too, I think. And he has all the proper equipment to make him a fine man.'
Goldwin kissed her clumsily and she saw that there were tears in his eyes. 'My son,' he said, his throat working. 'Perhaps I can think about rebuilding our lives now.' He returned the baby to Ailith and left the bed to sit down stiffly on the stool beside it. Wulfhild approached to remove his boots, for he was unable to bend over and manage for himself. Sigrid brought him bread and ale.
'Did you hear any news?' Ailith asked as Goldwin began to eat. At first he just nibbled, but as his appetite took hold, his bites became larger and more appreciative.
'The Norman Duke is to be offered the crown and London will officially surrender to him on the morrow or the day after,' he said between rotations of his jaw. 'There is no-one of Harold's status to hold us together any more, and our best warriors are gone… as well this household knows.'
'So the Norman army is to enter London?' Ailith asked apprehensively.
Goldwin nodded. 'Resistance would be foolish, and I have heard from all quarters that the Norman Duke is a man of his word. If we surrender to him now, he promises to be lenient.' Goldwin rested his gaze on the sleeping baby in her arms. 'At least we have certainty now,' he said in a voice full of weary relief. 'It was the not knowing that was killing me.'
Two days later the Normans rode into London to claim it as the greatest spoil of the English conquest thus far.
In the convent of St Aethelburga, Felice flung her arms around Aubert's neck and greeted him with floods of tears and passionate kisses. 'Oh, Aubert, I thought I would never see you again!' she sobbed. 'Every day has been like a siege!'
'I know, I know,' he soothed, his hands stroking. 'I have lived through torments myself, wondering if you were all right and unable to reach you.'
'Just look at the gift you left me,' she sniffed, patting the enormous swell of her belly. 'I almost miscarried in the early days, and now he doesn't want to come out!'
Smiling, Aubert let her guide his hand to her belly and was rewarded by a vigorous kick. His smile broadened.
'Ailith bore a son two days ago,' she told him. 'Their midwife came to tell me this morning – and a grumpy old besom she was too.' Her expression grew pensive. 'I wish that I was Ailith and that it was all over.' A note of fear entered her voice and she checked herself, knowing that if she dwelt on thoughts of her labour, her qualms would only intensify in the direction of terror. 'Goldwin was badly wounded in the battle against the Norwegians, and Ailith lost both her brothers at Hastings. I haven't seen her for almost three months.'
'I'll make sure that Ailith and Goldwin suffer no hardship under William's rule,' Aubert promised, and then grimaced ruefully. 'I do not suppose that the sight of my face will be welcome at their door, but I'll do my best to heal the breach.'
'I'll be glad if you can.' She looked tentatively at her husband. 'I don't want to return to the house yet, I'll feel much safer here until our son is born. The nuns know healing and midwifery.'
'Of course, I would expect you to do no other. Besides, the house is likely to be bursting at the seams with billeted knights for a few weeks at least. Do you remember Rolf de Brize?'
Felice laughed with something of her old humour. 'How can any woman not remember Rolf? I have never met a man so beautiful, or so dangerous!'
'A good thing I am a trusting, unjealous husband!' Aubert chuckled. 'He's going to stable his horses at the house and live there awhile. William is going to grant him the lands of a dead thegn on England's south coast, but he cannot take them up until the Duke has been anointed and officially pronounced rightful king. Rolf almost fell prey to looters on Hastings field, but he's recovering well.'
'Were you involved in the battle?'
The humour in Aubert's face abruptly died, and Felice realised that she had made a bad mistake in asking him. 'No,' he said after a moment. 'But I saw it from the baggage lines on Telham Hill, and it will stay with me until my dying day. I have never seen such waste, so many good men. I watched the English shield wall smash our cavalry in the first hours, and in turn I watched our cavalry smash their shield wall.' He drew his hand down over his face. 'Do you know, when we left Hastings, there were piles of bodies rotting where they lay, and the looters were so fat with plunder that they ceased combing the battlefield. Flocks of carrion birds arrived every morning at dawn and stayed feeding until dusk. Even the Duke was moved to pity by the sight of so many dead men.'