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Jordan was quickly falling into the world of agony, where the only thing that mattered was making from one wave to the next without screaming her head off. Byron was in the process of helping her sit up to drink an ergot potion for the pain when another contraction hit her and she yelped aloud before gritting her teeth against it.

“I dunna care what ye do,” she grunted.

He looked uncertain, preparing to reason with her when Analiese put her hand on him. “If I were you, I would go unless you are prepared to take on a barrage of insults,” she told him with a faint smile. “Women in childbirth often do and say strange things, I have been told. Go out and wait with Kieran and Deinwald. I will let you know when your son arrives.”

He almost argued with her but thought better of it. He was having difficulty seeing his wife in so much pain, wanting so much to stop it but being entirely helpless against it. It would get worse, he knew, and drive him mad with his impotency. He would do her no good in that state. Sighing with great reluctance, he complied.

Two of the knights’ wives were at the door when he opened it, respectfully explaining that their husbands had requested they help attend the champion’s wife. William wasn’t about to let anyone he didn’t know into the room, but he knew their husbands and they were good men. With a wave of his hand, he ushered them in.

Kieran and Deinwald, as well as several other knights he had come to know over months of battle service were in the hall, all looking as if it were their wife who was expecting. When William came from the room, a company of faces turned to him eagerly.

“No baby yet,” he told them. He meandered over to where Kieran was standing and leaned heavily against the wall.

“She will be fine,” Kieran said calmly.

William looked at him. “How can you be so composed when at this very minute your wife may be going through the same thing and you are not there to comfort her?”

Kieran smiled. He had always been the most collected of his knights, and certainly one of the wisest. The man lent new meaning to the term ‘gentle giant’.

“Jemma would be using me as her punching bag, so mayhap it is best I am not there when she gives birth,” he quipped. “However, in all seriousness, I believe that I shall leave on the morrow if you will not be needing me, and make way back to Northwood.”

“Good,” William said thankfully. “I am glad you have finally come to your senses. Jordan will be thrilled.”

The two men rested against the wall, joined by Deinwald. Silently, they pondered their thoughts, each to his own, waiting as patiently as they could muster as a new life was brought into the world.

For as peaceful as it was in the hall, Jordan was in a living hell. Unbelievable pain and pressure were doubling her over, and the instinct to push was like nothing she had ever experienced. Byron was bent over between her legs; his old face was serious, while Analiese stood over his shoulder looking rather pale. Jordan would find out later that it was the first birth she had ever attended.

“Push, my lady,” Byron’s voice never rose above a normal speaking tone. “With your next pain I want you to bear down as hard as you can.”

Jordan tried, but God’s honest truth, she was exhausted. The pains had come so fast and so furiously that they had nearly overwhelmed her and sapped all of her strength. She had only been in labor a mere six hours but it seemed like six days.

Another pain came, tightening across her mid-section.

“Push!” Byron told her.

“I am!” she yelled back as if she were barking orders on the field of battle. Analiese looked startled that such a delicate lady could use such a tone, but Byron didn’t blink. He was too busy watching the baby’s head crown.

Analiese saw it, too. She was overwhelmed with excitement.

“Jordan, I see it!” she blurted happily.

Jordan flopped back onto her pillows in misery. She was about to yell a nasty retort when another pain seized her and she doubled up again, instinctively pushing as hard as she could.

Analiese left her post and went to assist her, sitting behind her on the bed to better support her efforts. Jordan was sweating profusely, her long hair clinging to her wet face. At Byron’s instruction, Analiese put her hands on Jordan’s stomach to aid her in her pushing when the next contraction came.

Jordan pushed and pushed. A half hour later she was still pushing. Analiese was beginning to worry, but Jordan was so oblivious to anything but the pain that she had lost track of time. The knights’ wives, having birthed five children between them, hovered behind Byron and looked quite composed, waiting to be called into service. When Analiese looked into their older faces, she felt somewhat better because she deduced if anything was wrong, the women would be reacting.

Byron was doing something neither Jordan or Analiese could see, but that Jordan could certainly feel. He felt as if he was trying to pull the baby free himself and she screamed at him to leave her alone. After a few moments of twisting and tugging, a faint smile finally cracked his face.

“Okay, ladies,” he said softly. “Push harder than you ever have with the next pain and this babe should break free.”

The pain came. Jordan grunted with the force of her pushing while Analiese bore down with her, all of her queasiness forgotten with the immanency of the moment. Surely as Byron had predicted, the infant slipped free and into Byron’s waiting hands.

A thin wail filled the stale air almost immediately. Analiese hugged Jordan, who was panting heavily but still managed to smile.

“Byron.” she gasped. “Is it…is he…?”

Byron looked up at her, grinning. “Your son is fine and as big as an ox.”