I feared you'd all mutiny if I didn't solve the cliffhanger in a timely fashion...
Marie felt as though she were being torn in two. She was weeping with pain even as she struggled to obey the midwife’s orders to “Push! Push, Your Majesty! Push as though your life depended upon it!” and, whenever the contractions abated, however briefly, she slumped back into her pillows, sobbing.
“I can’t do it, Mama, I can’t!” she wept, clinging to her mother’s hand as she bent over to wipe her brow.
“Yes, you can,” Elizabeth soothed. “I know it hurts, but you can do it. And trust me, it’s worth it. When you hold that boy in your arms, when you see the King’s face as you show him his son, it will all be worth it. I promise.”
“Of course you can do it,” the midwife said bracingly, “A healthy strong girl like you won’t have any more trouble than this. The first babe’s always the hardest. The next one will be as easy as pie.”
Elizabeth wanted to curse the woman when she saw how Marie blanched at the thought of the next one, but her next words changed all that.
“The head’s crowning, Madam! Some nice pants and a few more steady pushes and it will all be over, I promise!”
Spurred on by the thought of the pain ending, Marie did what she was told with new impetus and, minutes later, a healthy baby boy was greeting the world.
Marie slumped back into her pillows for what felt like the thousandth time. This time, however, she was weak with relief at the sound of her new-born son’s hearty cries.
“My word!” the midwife exclaimed, “We certainly have a healthy one on our hands here. Most babies cry, but this one’s roaring like a lion!”
“The Lion of England,” Marie whispered tiredly. Elizabeth stooped and kissed her forehead.
“Rest for a moment, darling. You’ve done so, so well. I’m so proud of you.”
“Henry – the King...”
“I’ll tell the King. Don’t worry about that. It’s all fine. It’s all going to be fine.”
“I want to hold my boy.”
“I know. And you will. He just needs to be cleaned and swaddled first, that’s all. Now lie back and rest for me. That’s it, good girl.”
As soon as Marie had done as she asked, Elizabeth slipped out of the room in search of the King, a beaming smile on her lips.
*** *** ***
Henry was not more than half a dozen paces away from Marie’s outer rooms. He had rushed over as soon as Francis had told him the head was crowning and had been rewarded with the sound of a baby’s cry. As Marie’s mother came out, the look on her face told him all he needed to know.
“I have a son?”
“Congratulations, Sire. The healthiest Prince I’ve ever seen.”
“Truly?”
“He came out roaring like a lion. Indeed, the Queen christened him ‘The Lion of England’ before she’d even laid eyes on him, so strong were his lungs.”
At that, Henry couldn’t help but laugh out loud, throwing back his head so that his red-gold hair caught the May Day sunshine and shone like burnished copper.
“Then it appears my wife has the right of it. We shall call him Lionel,” he announced, “Lionel Tudor, Prince of Wales. Lionel for the three lions of England and for my illustrious ancestor, the Duke of Clarence. What say you, Lady Ormonde? As the child’s grandmother, how do you like that idea?”
“He could not have a more suitable name, Sire,” Elizabeth smiled.
He laughed again, spun her around and kissed her jubilantly. Then he glanced around him.
“Sound the bells!” he cried, “Sound the bells and let all of England know she has a Prince at last!”
Then he shot like an arrow into Marie’s rooms to meet his son.