Epilogue
“Do we tell him now or wait until he discovers for himself?”
Tate and Morgan stood at the entrance to Ravendark’s massive keep, eyeing their liege as the man rode in beneath the raised portcullis.
The bailey was awash with activity, man and servant alike greeting their returned lord from his three day visit to Chaldon Castle following Edward du Bonne’s death.
The new Baron Lulworth, Stephan du Bonne, had been most grateful for his brother-in-law’s wisdom and presence in a time of change.
It was a calming presence that nearly made up for the absence of the new baron’s very pregnant sister.
Even though she had three weeks yet to go, as Stephan’s very own wife had another two long months, Lady de Moray’s husband had forbade her to travel, even to her father’s funeral.
In her stead, Bose had attended the mass and mourned as he properly should.
But his heart wasn’t supportive of his actions.
Simply his duty, as required of a good husband.
Not that Lady de Moray was particularly eager to attend her father’s funeral.
The past nine months had seen little progress in mending the father-daughter relationship that had been so damaged by the episode with Breck Kerry.
Summer doubted that she could ever forgive her father for his treacherous actions.
But for the sake of family harmony, she had tried. She was still trying.
But it was a new life she sought, a new life far away from her father and the horror of his doings.
The memories of the first few days of her marriage had mercifully faded as Summer rapidly settled into her new role as Lady de Moray with delight.
Bose, too had settled in to being a husband again, incredibly at peace with his beloved second wife.
But his peace was short-lived; shortly after they had set up house in Ravendark, Summer announced her pregnancy.
It had been the longest eight months of Bose’s life.
His greatest fear had become reality and for the first few weeks of Summer’s pregnancy, he was literally beside himself with panic.
He knew his wife was aware of his terror, a terror that kept him awake at night, watching her sleep with tears in his eyes.
But he kept his apprehension well-hidden, instead, finding delight in the kicking movements of his child or lending sympathy to a wife who seemed to cry with the change of the hour.
All of this kept him distracted from the true panic that lay ahead; the birth of his first child.
A panic his knights refrained from mentioning because Bose was far more easily disturbed these days and they struggled to maintain a calm, even atmosphere in his presence.
The subject of childbirth was off-limits in conversation, although it was difficult not to broach the subject naturally when Lady de Moray began to speak of her plans for the child.
A child that was apparently unwilling to wait for his designated time to be born. On this day as Morgan and Tate watched Bose casually dismount his charcoal steed, they began to nudge each other encouragingly.
“Go ahead, Morgan. You’ve known him longer than any of us. ’Tis your duty to tell him.”
Morgan jabbed the younger knight with his armored elbow. “You can run faster than I can. Tell him quickly and run for your life.”
A bushy red mustache joined the conversation; Farl strolled up beside the two twitching knights, having been on the battlements when his lord arrived home.
His faded green eyes focused on the distant warrior.
“Well? Morgan, we’ve agreed that you would tell him.
You’d better do it before some fool inadvertently spills the truth. ”
Morgan sighed, watching his liege approach. The closer the man loomed, the more anxious the knights became.
“I do not know why we are acting as if something terrible has happened,” he grumbled, though he knew very well the reason.
“The child is fine, as is the mother. Moreover, it was Lady de Moray’s demand that we not send word of the birth for fear that Bose would kill himself in his desperate attempt to reach home.
Look at him,” he gestured to his unconcerned liege as the man lifted his visor, his black eyes glittering at the three huddled knights.
“He looks entirely calm. Pity I am going to have to destroy his state.”
Farl cleared his throat loudly, turning to leave. “I have duties, gentle knights. Good day to you.”
“If you leave, McCorkle, I’ll tell Bose it was your idea to withhold sending word of his child’s arrival,” Morgan did not look to the knight as the man stopped in his tracks, groaning softly in protest. But he obeyed nonetheless, resuming his stance beside Tate.
As Bose drew closer, the knights seemed to visibly shrink.
“I see that three days has seen nothing changed within my fortress,” Bose said, removing his helm and scratching at his sweating scalp. “Is there anything to report?”
Farl coughed loudly, Tate pretended not to understand the question, while only Morgan seemed able to maintain his composure. But it was a desperately fought battle.
“Welcome home, my lord,” he said. “How went the funeral?”
“Smoothly enough. As soon as Edward was buried, the man was forgotten,” he fumbled to remove his gauntlets.
“Stephan is finally in control of Chaldon and there is a good deal of gladness with his assumption of power. The new baron aside, however, I had the pleasure of meeting Ian’s new wife for the first time.
A pretty woman. Looks a great deal like Genisa, in fact. ”
Morgan nodded faintly, struggling for courage to bring forth what he knew he must when the opportunity was right. “Your wife was disappointed that she was unable to attend the wedding. In Banbury, wasn’t it?”
Bose snorted. “As if I would allow her to travel over miles of territory in her condition. I thought she was going to knock my teeth out when I denied her.”
“She is only now speaking to you.”
He snorted again. “That will change soon enough when I tell her that Ian’s wife is expecting, also.”
Tate, having recovered from his bout with stupidity, leapt into the conversation. “But they were only married three weeks ago!”
Bose cast him an obvious look, sending Farl and Morgan in to snickers of realization. “Dare I say that he had to marry the woman, Tate. Already her belly is rounding.”
Speaking of rounded bellies, Morgan thought. No better time than the present to broach the subject. Summoning the courage, he opened his mouth to reply just as Artur came shuffling from the keep with more speed than the old man had exhibited in years.
“Congratulations!” he shouted happily. “Your son is magnificent, Bose! Why are ye standing out here gabbing at these three? Yer wife’s waiting for ye!”
Time came to a screeching halt. Bose stared at the old man as if he hadn’t understood a word; the blank expression on his face was indicative of the level of shock.
Morgan, Tate and Farl scrutinized the man closely for signs of collapse or fury, waiting with anticipation as news of the birth of his son sank deep.
“Bose?” Morgan muttered timidly. “Are you well? Can you speak, man?”
Bose swallowed, his black eyes still riveted to his ancient uncle. Artur drew close to the group, waving his good arm in agitation and unaware that he had blurted the news to his unsuspecting nephew.
“Why do ye stand there like a fool?” he demanded. “Summer knows yer here. Better go and see the lass before she comes down here. And she shall come, too, looking for ye.”
As the old man chattered like a magpie, Bose suddenly emitted a harsh gasp that sounded more like a cry for help. His knights continued to watch him apprehensively, Morgan going so far as to reach out and steady his arm.
“You have a son, Bose,” he said softly, a twinkle of mirth appearing in his eye as the expression on his liege’s face provoked a sense of humor. “A strong healthy boy was born to you yesterday morn. And Summer came through without incident.”
“I…,” Bose tore his gaze away from the old man, looking to Morgan with a degree of shock never before witnessed.
When his friend smiled encouragingly, the startled father seemed to snap out of his trance and he grabbed the older knight by the arms, hard enough to break bones.
“I have a son? Summer has given me a son?”
Soft laughter could be heard from Tate and Farl, convinced that Bose was not going to tear them all to pieces for failing to relay the news in a more timely fashion. Morgan merely smiled into the ashen face.
“A fat little lad with your dark hair,” he replied. “He eats constantly and screams loud enough to rupture my eardrums. He shall be a mighty warrior someday.”
Bose’s eyebrows rose as his shock wore thin, a faint mottle of color reappearing on his pale cheeks. “God’s Beard,” he mumbled, turning to look at a beaming Artur. “I had no… for God’s sake, it’s not time yet. The babe is not due to arrive for three more weeks.”
“He is here nonetheless,” Artur said over the knights’ laughter. “Summer forbade us to send word of her birth, knowing how panicked and irrational you would become. She was afraid you’d kill yourself riding day and night to return home.”
Bose took a deep breath, running a gauntleted hand through his wet hair.
His eyes moved from the men surrounding him to the keep beyond.
An unmistakable longing pulled at him, tightening his throat and squeezing his heart until he could hardly breathe.
He could not stop the well of tears filling his eyes.
“I must see them,” he muttered, pushing past the men in a blind rush to reach the keep. “Summer… you say she is fine?”