Elizabeth Chadwick - The Love Knot

'No time. Too late. Spread your horse blanket on the ground.

'Christ, Catrin, you can't! He gaped at her in sheer horror.

'Tell that to your offspring! she gasped. 'Quickly, you'll have to help me, there's no one else!

'I don't know what to do! His voice rose and cracked.

'I'll show you. She curled her fingers in his hauberk and pressed her forehead into his chest. The urge to push was unbearable.

With a gasp like a drowning man, Oliver left her to run to his horse and tug the blanket off the crupper. At the same time he yelled at the wide-eyed Richard to go and find some female help.

He spread the blanket against the palisade fence lining the ditch. Catrin propped herself against the stakes, her legs drawn high and wide and her skirts soaked with mud and birthing fluid.

'Jesu, Oliver said hoarsely. His face was ashen.

'Tell me when the head is there. You will need to support it as it is born.

Oliver swallowed. He felt sick. He wanted to run and hide. The nearest he had been to a birth was pacing up and down outside a closed bedchamber door while behind it Emma died. Now Catrin was demanding that he play midwife. He glanced over his shoulder in the forlorn hope that help might be at hand, but there were only more soldiers going brutally about the business of securing the keep's outerworks and driving Eustace's troops from the town. Smoke billowed and there was a sting of rain in the wind.

'Oliver! she screamed, her spine rammed up against the wood of the palisade.

Her cry brought him reeling to his senses. With no one else to help them, he had no choice.

'It's all right, I'm here, he said, in what he hoped was a reassuring voice, and knew that he would rather face heavy battle with his injured hand a hundred times over than crouch here now and watch Catrin suffer.

She grunted and strained, putting all her breath, all her will and effort, into pushing the baby into the world. Wet and dark, the head crowned at the birth entrance.

'It's here, Oliver said and reached out. Catrin was biting her lip and her face was flushed with exertion, but her eyes were lucid and fierce on his, demanding his attention.

'Is the cord clear?

'It's not around the neck. Sweet Christ, its eyes are open!

'Wouldn't yours be? Catrin panted. 'Now the shoulders, take the shoulders. Don't pull on the cord.

Once the shoulders were out, the rest of the baby followed in a slippery rush and Oliver only just kept hold of his offspring. 'A boy, he said, on a note full of stunned surprise at the swiftness with which matters had progressed. The baby regarded him, a similar, if more myopic, expression on its face, then yelled lustily and waved its tiny arms. Removing his cloak, he wrapped it around the infant and laid it beside

Catrin. The cord still pulsed between her thighs. Her belly looked little smaller than it had done before. Blood smeared her flesh and welled around the birth passage but the flow was not copious.

'You see, I promised you, she said, with a tremulous smile.

'Jesu God, I don't want any more promises in this fashion! Oliver retorted, a quiver in his voice. His eyes went from her to the crying baby. He could feel his limbs weakening. In a moment he was going to collapse.

'Wait, it's not finished yet, she said sharply as she saw him waver. 'Did you not hear me say that there were two of them?

Oliver licked his lips. 'Two? he said hoarsely.

She nodded, unable to speak, and braced herself against the palisade. 'Pull gently on the cord, the first afterbirth's coming.

By the time two women from the castle finally arrived, so had Oliver and Catrin's second son. He was a little smaller than his older brother but just as loud. Hands trembling with shock and relief, Oliver wrapped him with the first one and gazed at their two crumpled little faces side by side.

'Twins, he said numbly. 'Jesu, Catrin. Even to deliver one would have been a baptism by fire.

'So now you are thoroughly scoured. Through the weariness, her voice held a note of triumph. 'You need never fear again.

He rubbed his hands over his face. 'I wouldn't say that. I tell you, if men had to bear children the human race would quickly come to an end. But there was a gleam of satisfaction in his grey eyes. The very fact that he had been able to do something, instead of standing helplessly outside a locked door, had been a catharsis.

Crying and exclaiming over Catrin's state, the women bundled her into warm blankets and gave her wine to drink. Richard had possessed the foresight to send out two men with a rope stretcher and, in no time, Catrin was lifted up and borne with her new sons into the keep.

Prince Henry, still in his mail, his red hair rumpled from wearing a coif, came striding across the hall to look as mother and babies were carried through. 'Born against the palisade wall in the pouring rain and delivered by their father; that marks them out as unusual from the beginning. He smiled at Oliver. 'Name the eldest Henry, and I'll stand godfather to them both.

It was not an offer that Oliver was about to refuse. A royal godfather was a giant step up fortune's ladder. 'I was going to do as much, sire, he said gracefully, and bowed.

'Just as long as you don't name the second one Eustace. Henry's smile became a grin, although there was a hint of a snarl at its edges. Eustace had almost seized Devizes. Although he had been thwarted and his mercenaries had taken a battering from Henry's troops, houses and livelihoods had been destroyed and Eustace had proved that he could strike right at the heart of Henry's defences.

'My wife has the gift of his naming, sire, Oliver replied, with a tender look at Catrin.

'Then what say you, mistress?

'Simon, Catrin said immediately. 'For Oliver's brother, killed in the first years of the strife.

Henry nodded and looked pleased. Across the hall Roger of Hereford beckoned his attention and, with a parting murmur of congratulation, he strode off.

Catrin was conducted to a small wall-chamber where she was cleaned, tended and left to rest with her new-born sons.

On his way out to find Rosamund and bring her to see her new brothers, Oliver paused on the threshold and gazed at Catrin and the babies, one either side of her on the pallet.

'What? She raised heavy lids to look at him.

Oliver shook his head and smiled. 'I was just thinking that once I had nothing but dregs in my cup and now it's full to the brim.

She smiled back at him. 'So is mine, she said.

April 1153

Chicken stew bubbled gently in the cauldron, the steam enriched by the scent of cider and herbs. Outside the alehouse, a rainy April dusk was settling over the land. Inside it was cosy, the main room glowing with warm red light from the lantern and the fire.

Catrin gave a small sigh of contentment. 'It is good to be back in England, she told Edith, and cast her glance around the cosy room. 'And I always feel at home here.

'So you should, Edith replied. 'You know there's always a welcome for you and Lord Oliver at our hearth. Her hands were floury as she rolled herb dumplings to add to the stew.

Catrin smiled her gratitude and for a while just sat and gazed into the fire, absorbing the warmth and comfort. Outside Oliver, Godard and the children were looking at a mare and her new-born foal. Catrin savoured her moment of peace. Not that she would be without Rosamund and the boys, but it was pleasant to have a respite.

Edith plopped the dumplings into the stew and wiped her hands on a linen cloth. 'So, where have you been? she asked with genuine curiosity. She had no desire to travel beyond her own backyard, but she had a lively interest in the experiences of those daring enough to venture further afield.

Catrin clasped her hands around her raised knees. 'You know that the twins were born at the fight for Devizes?

Edith clucked her tongue. 'Aye, in a ditch, so Godard heard when he went to Bristol for news.

Catrin laughed. 'Not quite — on the outer palisade with Oliver acting as midwife, the houses burning and rain pelting down.

Edith folded her arms and hitched her vast bosom. 'The wonder is that you all survived, she said, with a shake of her head. 'You'd never think to look at those two little lads that they had such a start in life.

'A start that made Prince Henry their godfather and brought them more christening gifts than we could stow in our baggage. They've become a sort of talisman — proof of success against the odds. It's an ill wind, Edith.

'Aye, I suppose it is. Edith sucked her teeth and nodded as she absorbed the words. Then she cast a bright glance at Catrin. 'Well, where did you go after Devizes?

Catrin frowned in thought. 'As I remember, they were less than three weeks old when we crossed the Narrow Sea to Normandy. Henry needed more resources. We were too small in number to have a hope of defeating Stephen. She gave a little shiver of remembrance and hugged herself. 'It was the middle of winter, freezing, raining and rough. The sea crossing alone made what happened in Devizes seem like a summer picnic'

'And you only three weeks out of childbed? Girl, you must have been mad, Edith snorted.

Catrin smiled. 'I thought that myself by the time we reached dry land. She slipped another piece of split wood beneath the cauldron and watched the flames explore its sides. 'I was so sick that I would have paid a fortune to anyone willing to throw me overboard.