1008 AD

‘What’s going on, why haven’t I heard anything yet?’ the king thought to himself, as he rubbed his temples, wiping beads of sweat that had formed on his brow. He stood alone on the battlements of his castle. Often he would come to this particular place to absorb the amazing vista of the Kingdom that his forefathers had built over the past two centuries. He was proud of this city, of his city, the people that lived here, under his protection, were his family. From his vantage point the king could watch them going about their daily lives, busily working in the market, children playing in the streets or fisherman pulling in their nets filled with fish from the sea to the South. He knew when the streets were bustling and the nets were full the city was happy and healthy.
News had spread quickly the previous morning that the Queen had gone into labour. She was adored, as was the king, by the people of the Kingdom and the birth of their first child was greeted with much excitement. Many well wishers came to the castle gate throughout the day leaving flowers and gifts for the mother and baby; but as the day went on, and the presents still hadn’t been collected, the sense of anticipation turned to trepidation.
The night came and went, and the flowers still remained. The king looked down at his people and as they looked up to him, expectantly awaiting the news he could not give them, he could see fear in their eyes. He turned and looked away, trying to focus on the horizon, the sea, the sky, anything other than their faces of anguish in a vane attempt to stop their fear entering his mind, but his actions were futile. He was for the first time that he could remember truly scared.
His wife; the woman he had loved for all his adult life, and who filled his every day with happiness, the woman who’s side he had not left since the first day that he had saw her had now been in labour for a full day and a half. The king felt a paralysing sense of helplessness. All he had ever wanted to do was protect her, but this time he could only wait. ‘Wait outside my love, I’ll send someone for you when your child is here,’ she had said to him. But those words felt like they were spoken a lifetime ago, so long ago that he painfully couldn’t even remember her voice any more.
He looked out across the bay to try to recapture the voice, the voice that been his companion for so many years. The king concentrated on the fishermen as they pushed their boats out for the first sail of the day. Seagulls circled above waiting for any scraps that might be thrown. He watched as he had done many times before and longed for their freedom; how it must feel to have no responsibilities, no duty, to live a life of simplicity where decisions can be made from the heart, and not restricted by fear or thoughts of consequence, how it must be to fly.
He stood watching the birds circle and swoop jostling for best position when the silence of his solitude was broken with the sound of a screaming baby. His baby. He knew instantly. The king ran through the door that led from the battlement and down the stone spiral staircase. His mind had completely left his body, he ran across his chambers where he and his Queen shared breakfast every morning and charged through the door into his chamber.
The king burst through the door and surveyed the room looking from where the noise had come. He could see his wife lying in bed with her nurse kneeling beside her. Across the room he could make out the silhouette of another nurse with what looked like a small bundle of rolled up blankets in her arms, the features of her cast into darkness by the dawn’s sunlight from the window in front of which she stood. It was his child, his first-born. He ran over to the window to see his new born baby. The king leant over to see the small face barely visible from the swaddling. “It’s a boy Sire, you have a boy,” the nurse said. She lifted the bundle in order that the king could see his son’s face. He looked down at his son and smiled, pride burning his chest. He then looked up at the nurse and his smile ebbed from his face as he noticed her eyes were red from tears, and tracks had formed on her cheeks.
“What is, what’s wrong, is he ok?” asked the king.
“He’s perfect Sire,” replied the nurse in a whispered tone.
“Well what is it, why are you crying? Tell me.” But the Queen’s nurse could not reply. She turned away and looked out of the window her body visible quivering with sorrow. The king looked at her as a crippling sense of dread filled his body. Slowly he turned to face the direction of the bed in which his wife lay. He didn’t want to turn around, if he didn’t turn everything would be fine, but he did, and instantly his fears were realised. The nurse was still kneeling in the same position she was when he first came in. He could see his wife’s beautiful long golden hair on the pillow but her face was turned away from him. He walked towards her and noticed for the first time the nurse was crying also. As he reached the bed the nurse stood and moved to the side so the king could get to his wife. He paused, not knowing from where to summon the courage to lean over and see his wife’s face, wishfully looking at the nurse hoping that she would guide his next actions, but the nurse turned away. Carefully he leant forward putting his hand on the bed in order that he could get closer to her.
“Lillian.”
The king was barely audible; tears were rolling down his cheeks landing on the bed sheet that covered his wife’s slender pale shoulder. The familiar voice made her stir. She rolled from her side onto her back so she could see her loving husband.“Lillian, are you alright?” She looked up at him, her skin was pallid, her beautiful eyes ashen, she went to speak but the pain made her wince. The king turned to the room, frantic for help. “What’s wrong with her? Why won’t someone tell me what’s wrong with her? Why will you not help? I order you to help.” The king felt his wife’s hand slowly find his.
“My darling, you have a son.”
She pulled his hand to her lips and softly kissed it. “He needs you now, and so do your people. I love you,” and with these final words she was gone.