Prologue

Prologue.

England, 1517

"Come on love, you've got it...push now..."

Rose, though already in considerable amounts of endless pain, stuck her chin to her sternum forcibly, holding her breath in her racking mission to send her unplanned, fatherless firstborn into the world.

She tugged at the bed sheets, her nightcap sticking to her forehead.

"Almost, darling," the midwife, Hannah, cooed, supporting the young girl's throbbing back as she struggled to breathe. She had been at it for hours.

Rose huffed and puffed, her pale cheeks beet red, but squeezed her muscles to guide her child out.

"The child crowns, Rose."

Rose felt her energy fading, but gave a final push, allowing the squealing baby the precious gift of life that was quickly becoming scarce to her. But she held on...for just a moment.

"Oh, Rose love!" Hannah praised, "A beautiful infant girl you've borne this night."

The young mother struggled to see, feeling her minutes numbered.

"Hannah! Bring her forth...so I might give my girl a name."

After quickly wrapping the healthy babe in cloth, the middle-aged woman presented her to Rose.

"Oh," she breathed, tears in her eyes. "This," she said, planting a kiss on the dark-haired and -eyed infant, "Is my Isabell."

And with a conclusive breath and a smile on her face, Rose passed into oblivion.