Ok, this is only my second story, so please be nice! Read and review! This is a short chapter, but there will be more!
Chapter 1
"Come on, Elizabeth… come on!" Will took his wife's sweating hand gently. She let out another groan. The midwife looked up, smiling.
"Not long now, Miss. I think you're just about ready to push!" She said excitedly, and dived out of sight again. Elizabeth let out another groan. "Push, Miss!" The Midwife repeated. Elizabeth screamed in pain as she pushed with all her might.
"Oh God, why does something this small cause so much pain!" She cried.
"It's coming Miss, it's coming!" The Midwife said, bobbing into view for a moment. Elizabeth gave another shriek. "It's here, Miss!" The Midwife appeared with a tiny, bloody bundle in her arms. The infant's cries soon cut across Elizabeth's now dying sobs. "You've got a little boy, Sir and Miss." The Midwife handed the screaming bundle over to Elizabeth. She looked at the tiny baby in her arms. Her eyes began to droop. She gave a small sigh a flopped back onto the bed.
"Elizabeth?" Will took the baby in his arms, and glanced concerned at his wife.
"Oh, not to worry, Sir. She's earned a small rest." The Midwife said, bustling over to Will, carrying a bundle of bloody sheets and towels. "Mind 'is 'ead, Sir. Hold 'im like this…" She showed Will the correct way to hold the baby.
"Will?" Elizabeth whispered. "Will!"
"What is it?" Will asked, leaning over to her. She looked in a bad way. She was sweating and trembling. The Midwife leaned over.
"Are you alright, Miss? Just tired I expect, aren't you?" The Midwife said, smiling. "Don't you want to hold your son?" Suddenly Elizabeth sat up, gasping for breath.
"Elizabeth!" Will said, awkwardly holding the baby at arms length.
"Are you alright, Miss?" The Midwife asked again, dropping her bundle of towels.
"Of course she's not alright! Do something!" Will said desperately, as Elizabeth gave a small "oh" and fell backwards onto the bed.
"Mrs Turner!" The Midwife leaped toward Elizabeth, and checked her pulse.
"Do something!" Will said, looking for somewhere to put the baby.
"I'm sorry, Sir! I'm only just qualified! I… I don't remember… I can't…" The Midwife stammered. Will finally found somewhere to put the baby, and bent over Elizabeth.
"Will." She whispered, and her eyes closed for the last time.
13 years later…
Will and his son, Johnny, danced about the workshop, their swords clashing. Will was attacking. He made a sudden lunge towards his son and lashed out with his sword, knocking Johnny's out of his hand. Will point the sword to his throat.
"Good," He said, lowering the sword. "But remember; footwork and always keep up your guard."
"Yes, Father." Johnny said, picking up his sword. "Can we have another go?"
"No, not today, son." Will said, taking the two swords and putting them away. "I have three orders to finish off today!"
"Oh," Johnny said, his face falling. "Can I help? I'm getting pretty good!" He glanced over at the pile of bent, broken and misshaped swords in the corner and grimaced.
"Yes…" Will said, also looking at the swords. "Um… well, practice makes perfect. Melt down one of the… other, ones and try again." Johnny smiled and turned to the swords.
A loud rapping on the door of the workshop made them stop and look up. Will was tending to a sword in the furnace.
"Get that will you, Johnny? If it's the Commodore, tell him the sword will be ready on Thursday." Will said, still bending over the sword.
"Yes, Father." Johnny jumped up from the stool on which he had been perched and ran to the door. He opened it and started. "Uncle Jack!"