While the men planned and plotted in the solar, Christopher sat in the great hall with his brother, perched like a stone at the long table and staring off into space. He hadn’t slept since Dustin’s labor began and the more time passed and no child was forthcoming, the more anguished he became.
There was a midwife and a physic with Dustin, monitoring her progress closely. She had the best of care. But it was Christopher’s worst nightmare come to life when the physic approached him on the eve of the second night of his wife’s labor. The old man’s face was grim as he stood next to the table, gazing down at the haggard earl.
“My lord,” he said. “I have discussed your wife’s condition with the midwife and we have come to the same conclusion. This child is too big for your wife to birth him. She needs help or we will lose them both.”
Christopher wavered unsteadily even as he sat there. “What kind of help?”
“We must cut her open and take the child.”
Christopher bolted to his feet, weaving dangerously. “Cut her open? What in the hell are you suggesting?”
“It is not as it sounds,” the old man assured him. “We make an incision in her belly and pull the child forth. Then we stitch the wound and she will heal. I have done it in the past when there is no other alternative.”
Christopher didn’t know what to say. By this time, the men in the solar had heard the conversation and they trickled out, watching the situation with concern. Edward and Rhys made their way over to where the earl and David stood, facing the little physic, to better hear what was said.
“But… how will you do this?” Christopher asked. “Will you give her something to make her sleep so she will not feel pain?”
The little man shook his head. “I have nothing of that nature. But I will be swift about it, be assured.”
Christopher’s eyes opened wide. “You are going to cut her open while she is conscious?”
“If I do not, she will eventually die and the child with her. She is already weakening.”
Christopher looked as if he was going to pass out. But he steeled himself, wiping a hand over his face as if that would help him make the correct decision. He looked at his brother, who was gazing back at him with great fear, and then to Edward. The dark-haired knight merely stared back without any outward reaction. But when Christopher’s gaze fell on Rhys, the unshaven, shaggy man nodded strongly at him.
“Knock her unconscious with the butt of a blade, my lord,” he told him in a quiet, assured voice. “It is the merciful thing to do. She will awaken with a headache but no memory of being cut into.”
The physic nodded in agreement. “If you have the courage to do it, then it would indeed be merciful. It will take me only a few minutes to make the incision and remove the child. But we must do it right away. You must make your decision.”
Christopher drew in a sharp breath, raking his hand through his hair and struggling to make the right choice. If he refused, his wife would probably die and the child with her. But if he agreed, it would be the most horrific event he had ever experienced. Still, he could not lose her. Not when he had been given the choice to save her.
“Very well,” he agreed hoarsely, moving for the stairs that led to the upper levels. “I will do it.”
The little physic scooted after him, following the lumbering earl up the steps. David was still stunned, so he sat back at the table with Edward beside him while Rhys returned to the solar. The men were speaking quietly of the earl’s wife and he snapped his fingers to get their attention. Posting himself by the giant map table, he put his hands on his hips decisively.
“We cannot control what happens with Lady Dustin, but we can control the events of this siege,” he said firmly. “Let us return our attention where it belongs. We are preparing to breach Ludlow and we must have a firm plan in place. I would spare no detail for this event, mostly because it is such an enormous place and, given the size of it, it multiplies the things that can go wrong. I do not want to lose anyone due to poor planning or stupidity. Agreed?”
The men around the table, including Conrad and his retainers, nodded with varied degrees of enthusiasm. Rhys seemed to be shedding his somber persona by the second, becoming much more of the man that most of them remembered. Rod stood next to his brother, watching the change, hearing the words of self-assurance and wisdom coming forth from the man he had grown up idolizing.
“We have sent word to most of those locally who oppose the king,” Rhys said with authority. “Our request is for manpower and materials and thus far we have received word from Hay Castle that de Braose is sending five hundred men. The trick is moving them past Clifford Castle, to the north of Hay, which is held by the king. If Walter Clifford sees de Braose troops moving northward, he could either engage or follow them. We clearly do not want that to happen. Additionally, de Braose is sending one hundred men from his holding of Knighton Castle to the north.”