Page 108 of Bound By Honor
“Nay. ’Tis not possible. Lord Angus will be proud of you.”
Brian seemed comforted by Dermot’s words. Áine would miss her son but she knew this was important to his future. He was an Irish prince and needed to know his own people. One day, he might rule them as King of Tirowen.
The rain continued as the burial proceeded the next day. The ceremony reminded Áine of the burial of Alexander Macdonald, which had also been a somber affair. The monks chanted their songs as the people filed into the priory church built by the O’Cahans out of Ireland’s rocks.
The black-robed abbot, who knew her father well, officiated, recalling the great deeds of the O’Cahan lord who had provided wisdom for his people for decades. As the senior subking to The O’Neill, her father had been held in high regard by Norman nobility. Earl Richard had come to pay her father honor in death as he befriended him in life. That meant much to Áine, for her heart was rent by so great a loss.
The words spoken by the abbot over her father’s body were comforting:
Our Lord keepeth thee. Our Lord is thy protection.
By day the sun shall not burn thee, nor the moon by night.
Our Lord keepeth thee from all evil. Let our Lord keep thy soul.
Our Lord keepeth thy coming in and thy going out from henceforth, now and forever.
Eternal rest give unto Your servant, O Lord, and let Your perpetual light shine on him.
When the last prayer was said and her father had been laid to rest in the new tomb provided for him inside the church, they thanked those who had come and rode back to Dunseverick.
Áine began to feel fevered and unwell as they arrived at the inner bailey. The feeling persisted as she climbed the stairs to her bedchamber with Nessa. It was then the cramps began. She gripped her belly, bending over with the pain. A warm liquid flowed down her leg and one look told her it was blood. A moan escaped her lips.
“What is it, Mistress?” Nessa asked, alarmed.
“The babe,” said Áine between stabs of pain. “It is the babe,” she said in a harsh whisper as she doubled over in pain.
Nessa hastened to remove Áine’s gown and turned down the bedcovers, placing a drying cloth over the sheet. “Mayhap not. Get into bed and I will call the physician.”
Áine did as Nessa bid her, her handmaiden helping her as the pain continued. She hoped she was wrong. But the bright red blood flowing onto the cloth and the clots passing from her womb told her she was right. She was only a few months gone with child, not enough to show, but the bond between mother and child was already strong. She longed for the comfort Angus would bring yet she was glad he was not here to see this.
The physician, when he came, was not encouraging. The older man had served her family for decades, tending her scrapes and scratches as a child. “You have had two healthy children, my lady. A small amount of blood and the child can survive. But there is much here. I do not wish to give unwarranted hope.” To Nessa, he said, “Clean up your mistress and give her honeyed wine to drink. She will not be hungry. Rest is what she needs but stay with her. If the babe is not to live, it will eventually pass from her body but that can take some time.”
“I will not leave her,” said Nessa, her brown eyes full of concern. “Can you send a servant up?”
He nodded. “I will look in on her tomorrow. Call me before that if need be.”
When the servant appeared, Nessa issued instructions for the fire to be kept burning and the honeyed wine to be brought. Beyond that, the servant was asked to bring hot broth for Áine’s supper and a pallet for Nessa to sleep on so she could stay in the bedchamber. “The mistress needs to rest. It has been a trying few days and I do not wish to leave her.” Áine admired Nessa’s discretion, for if the babe lived, none need know of the crisis once past.
Áine waited until a cramp subsided and then she told the servant, “Please tell my son that I am tired from the travel and the burial. He can see me tomorrow.” When the servant left, Áine said to Nessa, “Thank you for your kindness. As for Brian, say nothing of this should he inquire. It will be days before he goes to the O’Neills. Mayhap I will be up by then.”
“Do not worry, Mistress. I will see to the lad and to you.”
The next day, the physician came and went. “Stay in bed this day” were his only words.
Brian came, too. He held her hand and listened to Nessa’s encouraging words. “She will be well very soon.”
“My uncle wants me to meet my foster family so I might be gone for a day or two,” Brian said. “Is that all right?”
“Yes, Little Prince. It is as it should be. This is a chief your uncle knows well. His family has flame-colored hair, just like you. I will be here when you return.”
The following day, the tiny child passed from her womb, miniature in size but recognizable as a male, a son.
Áine had known there was no longer a child growing in her womb. Her breasts were no longer tender; she had no nausea. But it was only when she was sure the child was dead that the tears began to flow. “This is all my fault,” said Áine, speaking her thought aloud to her handmaiden. “I should have taken more care.”
“Nay, Mistress, do not blame yourself. You were never overcautious before and delivered two healthy babes. It may be this one was intended for Heaven before he was born. There will be others.”
“What will Angus say when he learns I have lost him a son?”
