Part Three—Postpartum

August 22, 1133

Tre-Arilan, Sophie's bower

Bishop Duncan held the sobbing woman in his arms, glancing up at Father Nivard as the younger priest entered the room. Sophie sniffed, dabbing at her tears with a handkerchief.

John paused in the doorway. "What's wrong? Is it the baby?" He looked around the room in alarm, but his newly-christened namesake was peacefully sleeping in his cradle next to the cushioned bench where his mother sat, his small chest rising and falling slightly with the rhythm of his quiet breathing.

"No, the baby's fine," Sophie assured the new arrival, her voice sounding forlorn. "It's Seisyll. He says we can't have any more children."

John looked at Duncan in confusion, then glanced back at Sophie. "The midwife said there was some...injury during the birth?"

"No, Seisyll just won't allow it to happen again. He says he's not willing to risk me." The tears threatened to start up anew.

Duncan patted the disconsolate woman's shoulder. "Well, sweeting, you gave us all quite a fright last week. We were certain we were losing you. Once a little time has passed, I'm sure he'll be willing to reconsider."

She shook her head. "No, he won't. This is Seisyll we're talking about. You know how stubborn he is! Damned Arilans..."

Duncan suppressed a chuckle. "Well, maybe Denis can have a little talk with him in a year or two, once John Denis is fully weaned and you're back to your full strength again, and they can butt heads like rams over it. Though given what you just went through, I'm a bit surprised you're so eager to repeat the experience. I'd have figured you'd be grateful for some respite, especially given how sick you feel at the beginning of each pregnancy."

Sophie threw up her hands. "All right, so I don't especially like being pregnant, but it's rather hard to make more babies without that step, and if Seisyll would like to have a go at it for once, I certainly wouldn't mind!"

John stifled a laugh. Is there some sort of medicine in her wine? he mind-spoke to Duncan.

Not a single drop, Duncan assured him silently, his answering twinkle gleaming at him above Sophie's head. "I know you've had a long day, and you've got a house full of extended family you'll want to spend more time with in the morning, so we'll let you rest, heart. John and I need to get back to Rhemuth."

She gave him a trembling smile. "Thank you for being here for me." Glancing over her shoulder at John, she added, "Both of you!

#

August 23

St. Hilary's Basilica, bishop's study

Father Nivard stared thoughtfully into his wine cup. "Is there truly some way Seisyll could eliminate the risks of Sophie experiencing another difficult childbirth like that, or at least minimize them?"

Duncan raised an inquiring eyebrow at the younger priest. "No one's ever brought up the subject of contraception during Confession with you?"

"Well, no, I know about that! Though mostly I get those sorts of confessions from unmarried men wanting to avoid fathering bastards without being abstinent as they ought to be; married men generally want as many children as their wives can bear, since there's no guarantee they'll all live to adulthood. A few women have confessed to it as well, but more often they're poor and worried that they'll not be able to feed more than they've been given already, or they're in bad situations they fear to bring a child into. I almost never hear them from young married folk who can afford to support a family. But in any case, those methods for preventing children are generally unreliable, aren't they?"

The bishop swirled the red Fianna vintage in his glass before taking an appreciative sip. "Quite often. There might be some methods more reliable than others, possibly even some that only a formally trained Deryni like Seisyll would be likely to have discovered." He gave Nivard an ironic smile. "As I've never sought to use contraception myself, I can't say I've made a very thorough study of the matter."

John's eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. "Yes, your women keep dropping babies all over Rhemuth, don't they?"

Duncan laughed. "Not what I meant, as you know full well, though I suppose I could have phrased that a bit more clearly!" He sobered, looking thoughtful. "Of course, unless Seisyll simply plans to abstain whenever Sophie's most fertile—assuming he can determine such matters with certainty—I'm sure Denis will have an opinion or two to share on the matter. He's bound to notice if no new Arilans are forthcoming in the next few years. Sophie's only twenty-five, after all." Duncan took another sip of his wine. "In any case, unless Seisyll's planning on coming to either of us for spiritual counsel on that issue—which is probably as likely as me waking up tomorrow to find all of Rhemuth littered with my by-blows—I'd say it's a matter between him, Sophie, and God. I'm neither his confessor nor his conscience."

John took a swallow of his wine, looking thoughtful. "Duncan, have you ever questioned your vocation or had a crisis of faith?"

The bishop leaned back slightly in his chair. "Oh, a time or two. Not recently, but at one time I wrestled quite a bit with whether or not I ought to have taken holy vows, knowing I was Deryni and that I was violating man's laws to do so, although I truly believed I was following God's call. And years before that, when I fell in love with Maryse, I questioned whether I was really meant to be a priest at all. How could I love a woman so intensely, if I was called to live a life that would require vows of celibacy? I thought perhaps I had simply misunderstood my vocation, that God still intended me to serve Him, but in marriage rather than in the priesthood. Then once I found out she'd died...well, as you can imagine, I was angry, confused..." He took another sip of wine before continuing. "Deep down, though, I knew I had a genuine call within my soul, so when it came time for me to take final vows, I didn't hesitate. I still had some doubts, but not about God, and not even about my vocation. More about...I don't know, my own suitability for the task, I suppose. What in the hell was God going to do with a young, wet-behind-the-ears, unfaithful to my calling, grieving Deryni seminarian?"

Father Nivard smiled. "Well, I can relate to some of that, at least. I had my own crisis of faith during my seminary years, and yes, some of that hinged on the Deryni question as well. Fortunately Denis discovered me at that point, and took me under his wing."

"Yes, and I doubt either of you have ever truly regretted that, though perhaps there might have been a time or two since then when you wished you had some of the freedoms that other men have. The freedom to marry, the freedom to father children, perhaps simply the freedom to express deeper feelings for a woman than mere friendship or even brotherly love." Duncan gave a faint smile. "That, too, seems to come with the territory at times. At least for me it has."

John was silent for a long moment. "I...struggle with that too at times. But I think...no, I know I've made the right choice." He swallowed hard. "My vocation and my love for the scholarly life completely aside, I'm not sure I would have the courage it would take to be a married man, to wonder every time my wife quickened with my child if this one would be her last, if the tangible evidence of my love for her would bring her death instead." His sea green eyes shimmered with moisture in the firelight. "I don't envy him that fear and uncertainty."

Duncan merely nodded, not needing to ask who John meant.

"When did you learn the full truth about what happened to Maryse?" the younger priest finally asked.

"When I discovered Dhugal was my son. And no, the impact wasn't the same as it might have been had I learned sooner how she'd actually died. I felt sorrow for her sake, of course, but..." Duncan shook his head. "It wasn't like a fresh grief. More like a fresh reminder of an old wound, still a little tender but mostly healed."

"I know you only had the briefest of opportunities to experience marital love, but did you ever think you might lose her that way? Oh, maybe not from that one time, but someday?"

Duncan gazed down into his wine, a rueful smile on his face. "John, my brother, I was fifteen. Young, utterly stupid with fledgling love, and immortal. You assume I gave it any thought at all."

#

September 26

Rhemuth Castle, Royal Library Annex

"Happy Birthday, John!"

Father Nivard turned away from the bookshelf he was restocking. Sophie was walking towards him, a swaddled bundle in her arms. He smiled.

"Good morning, Sophie." He glanced down at the sleeping infant she held. "How are you and John Denis today?"

"Well enough. He's finally sleeping through most of the night, thank God." Sophie handed the baby to the priest. "Here, hold him just a moment, would you?"

Nivard took the child, startled, holding him a little awkwardly as Sophie fished inside her belt pouch. The baby awakened, wide eyes staring solemnly up at him.

"Seisyll's taken to calling him 'Jack,' by the way. Says it's less of a mouthful."

"Has he?" John stared back at his tiny charge. "His eyes aren't exactly blue, are they? Aren't most babies' eyes blue at first?"

"Most are, yes. Blue or brown...oh, there it is!" Sophie pulled a small bag out of her belt pouch. "Stefania's and Jamyl's eyes eventually darkened to the Arilan blue-violet, but I think Jack's might end up looking more like mine. Sort of goldish-green. As my stepmonster Alienora used to call them, 'queer-colored eyes'." She offered John the tiny bag. "Shall we trade now?"

The priest laughed. "That would probably be best, yes. I haven't all that much experience with small children. At least not any this young." He handed the swaddled bundle back to his mother gingerly, sighing with relief once she had him firmly in her grasp, then accepted the bag she held. "What's this?"

"It's called a birthday present. Surely you're not so secluded from the world in here, you've never heard of that custom?" Sophie grinned.

"Oh, I've heard of it. I might have even received one or two on occasion." John chuckled. "I just wasn't expecting you to show up with one today."

"Why not? You're practically family."

He glanced up at her, surprised, but she was fussing with the baby's blanket. He looked back down again at the present he held, opening the drawstrings and reaching inside to draw out a set of prayer beads. Polished olive wood, from the look and feel of them, though the crucifix attached to the string was of gold, and the medallion above it appeared to be wrought of gold cloisonné, inlaid with thin layers of garnet, lapis, and other semiprecious stones to create an icon of the Madonna and Holy Infant.

John touched the icon reverently. Under his fingertip, he felt a faint tingle.

"Sophie, it's beautiful, but..." He hesitated. "Surely it's far too dear."

She smiled. "It's from Byzantyun. Seisyll somehow managed to acquire it—no, don't ask me how; I don't know all the details myself. But as you can probably tell, it's of Deryni craftsmanship, and Denis believes it probably originated somewhere besides Byzantyun, though God alone knows where or how old it is. And yes, it is dear. So are you." Sophie grinned. "But don't get too used to receiving such largesse from us. That was a very lucky find; next year you'll probably just get a hand-drawn bookmark."

He chuckled. "Sophie..."

"Is Duncan at the Basilica this morning?" she asked, pointedly changing the subject.

"No. He's still in Cassan, visiting his newest grand-baby. Jared was born a week ago today."

"Oh, that's right!" She hesitated. "Duchess Mirjana is doing well, I hope?"

"Yes. The Duke's messenger said she'd had an easy labor."

"I'm glad. She's had an awful year, by all accounts; it's about time something went right for her." She smiled up at the man who had been like a big brother to her since shortly after her first arrival in Rhemuth, when she'd been a shy, homesick maiden grateful for guidance and new friends. "I'd better go; Seisyll's entrusted me with a message for Kelson that I need to deliver before I get too sidetracked. I'll try to stop back by for a longer chat on my way back out, if you'll be here later this afternoon."

"I'll be here. I might even set aside a few books for you."

He watched them leave, fingering the prayer beads thoughtfully for a long moment. He whispered a brief prayer for mother and child before tucking the beads into his pouch and returning to his work.