Epilogue #2
Artur was close behind, as were the other three knights.
“As healthy and whole as the day ye left her,” the old man replied steadily.
“She began having pains on the night ye departed for Chaldon and by dawn she was holding yer squalling son in her arms. We hardly had time to work up a substantial worry.”
“And my son is well?”
“Well, Bose. Well.”
Bose did not know whether to laugh or cry.
All that mattered was the fact that his son had been born, healthy and strong, and by the grace of God his wife had survived unscathed.
God’s Beard, he was desperate to hold her, to tell her how much he loved her and to thank her for her most gracious gift of a son.
Into the massive keep, even the servants were smiling broadly as their rushed lord mounted the stairs, followed closely by his knights. The closer he came to his wife and new child, the more tears and emotion threatened to overwhelm him.
As Bose entered the familiar second floor where the bedchambers were situated, he realized he could hardly breathe through the force of his feelings. Closer and closer he drew until finally he burst through the master chamber door. What he saw nearly sent him to his knees.
Summer was sitting up in bed, holding a swaddled bundle and smiling radiantly at her pale-faced husband. When the man seemed unable to move his feet in a forward direction, she held out a hand to him.
“Welcome home, my darling,” she said softly. “Come and m-meet your new son.”
Bose let out a ragged sigh as Artur gave him a shove, pushing him into the warm, sweet-smelling chamber.
“God’s Beard, Summer,” he croaked. “Why… why did not you send word? Why did not you demand I return home, to be with you while you…?”
“Because you would have been absolutely useless,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “Look at you now; I am fine, the babe is fine, and still you look as if you are seeing ghosts. Believe me when I tell you that you would not have survived my night of labor.”
Near the bed, Bose collapsed on the edge, staring at the small, squirming bundle in his wife’s arms as if unsure of the truth of the matter. As if hardly believing all had happened as it should, a healthy wife and a healthy child. Summer smiled at his disbelief and patted the bed beside her.
“Do not sit so far away,” she commanded quietly. “Come and sit with us.”
Woodenly, obediently, he rose and moved around the bed, staring down at the two human beings most precious to him. After a brief, hesitant moment, he lowered himself carefully beside his wife and son.
“Hold out your arms,” Summer commanded, preparing to hand over the child. “He shall not bite you, Bose. H-Hold out your arms, I say.”
He extended his hands awkwardly, unsure of himself. “I have… I have never held an infant before, Summer. God’s Beard, what if I drop him? What if I crush him?”
She laughed, listening to Artur and the knights titter. “He shall scream like a banshee if he’s not comfortable. You w-worry overmuch, husband. Now fold your arms; that’s right.”
With a good deal of coaching, Bose finally placed his arms in the correct position and Summer neatly deposited the tiny bundle in the crook of his left elbow. Peeling back the swaddling, Bose was blessed with the first glimpse of his squirming, fat-cheeked son.
“Oh, Summer,” he breathed, his uncertainty and surprise being replaced by awe. “He’s marvelous. Absolutely marvelous.”
Summer’s eyes were filled with tears as she watched her husband’s expression. “Indeed, darling,” she stroked his clammy black hair, feeling her strength return by the mere sight and smell of him. “Since you refused to discuss names, I was forced to choose a proper title without your consent.”
Bose watched the infant as he suckled on his fingers. “I apologize for my reluctance,” he offered feebly. “I… I was afraid to. Afraid to hope that our child would not live long enough to be named and afraid that you would not live long enough to name it.”
She shushed him softly, kissing his ear. “I know,” she whispered. “There is no need to explain your fears to me, darling. But I refuse to hear any c-complaints should my choice not be to your liking.”
“As long as it isn’t Kermit.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Nay, husband, I have spared you such embarrassment of a first name. But have no doubt my son will bear the name somehow.”
He smiled for the first time since returning home, his face soft with enchantment as he continued to gaze at the bundled infant. “Anything you choose is fine, love, truly. I swear I’ll not dispute you.”
Summer watched his features carefully as she replied.
“I rather like your father’s name, Garret, but I wanted to honor my brother as well.
Stephan has meant a good deal to us both,” gazing down at the fair baby’s face, she ran her finger along a silken cheek.
“Therefore, I have decided to name your son Garran. Master Garran Kermit de Moray.”
Bose gazed down at the rosy face, more wonder and joy and contentment filling him than he ever thought possible.
All of his fears, his pain and his sorrows were fading rapidly until he could scarcely recall the feelings that had been a part of him for more years than he cared to count.
For within his arms lay the catalyst to a greater healing and sitting beside him on the massive bed lay the very key to his heart.
A key that would give him three more children in the years to come. All of the Gorgon’s children would grow to see adulthood and one would live to fight alongside his mighty father. But for now, there was no more misery and no more sorrow. No more woes to plague him.
Finally, the Gorgon had found peace.
* THE END *