Lola's screams permeated the small cottage. She had lost count of how long she had felt her labor pains, but she knew it had been far too long. Her contractions were coming closer and closer together, which her hostess, Beatrice, had told her meant the baby was trying to come into this world. But that was the end of the comforting words. Beatrice was clear with her that this did not seem like it would be an easy birth, and she herself had no skill in delivering babies. The local midwife was not coming. Lola was virtually alone.
Her only hope was that Mary would send help. Surely she could at least send Nostradamus, whose skill in medicine would provide great comfort to her. But she estimated it had been over two hours now, at least, since she had sent her letter, and there was no sign of any assistance.
Beatrice tried to provide some physical comfort, wiping Lola's brow as she tilted her head upward to scream. She had tried to be reserved with her pain at first, desperately not wanting to frighten her hostess, but she had lost all will to be decorous hours ago, when the pains had turned to be particularly sharp.
A heavy knock sounded at the door, and Lola thought she might be hallucinating. Could help have really come? She was doubtful, but Beatrice had clearly heard the knock too, as she rose from Lola's side to answer the door.
Lola used all her strength to sit up slightly to see who had come. She questioned her own mind once again when she saw Francis walk through the door.
He went straight to her, without taking a second glance at Beatrice. "Lola… my god, are you all right? We received your letter at the castle and I came as quickly as I could."
Lola stared at Francis, not believing that he was really there. "Francis… you've come. Did Mary tell you…" she trailed off, not knowing how to ask the question.
Francis nodded, taking Lola's hand in his own. "I can't believe you kept this secret from me this whole time. You should have told me!" he nearly yelled, but thought better of starting an argument. "Anyway, none of that matters now. I'm here to help in whatever way I can."
Lola winced, managing to stifle another scream as a contraction came on. She squeezed Francis's hand, grateful for a friendly face to help her through her pain. But then it dawned on her… no one was with him.
"Did you not bring Nostradamus? Or a midwife?"
Francis closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. "There has been an outbreak of plague in the village, and they have closed the castle gates. I only just made it out in time, but we could not allow anyone else to leave, for they would not be allowed to return."
Lola stared straight ahead, trying to process what she had just been told. No one was allowed to leave… but Francis did. How could Mary have let him venture into a village that was ravaged by plague?
"But… but you left. How could Mary let you? You're the Dauphin of France. You can't just ride out into a village that is currently beset by plague!"
In the background, Beatrice gasped at the dark word: plague. "Plague! This must be why the midwife could not come - she has been afflicted! How do I know you have not brought the plague here yourself?" She yelled, and then, suddenly remembering herself, "if you don't mind me asking, your royal highness."
"I have rode straight here from the castle, there is little chance that I have brought plague, madame. And to answer your question, Lola, Mary did not want me to leave. She begged me to stay. But… I couldn't leave you alone. My duty is to protect the people of France, and you are one of those people."
Lola did not know what to say to Francis's proclamation. Surely her relationship with Mary would now be ruined forever, if she were to survive this ordeal. Before she could respond, Francis spoke up again.
"And I suppose it is my duty to inform you that my father has died… I am now King of France," Francis nearly choked out the words, as if he did not want to admit it to himself.
Beatrice immediately sunk to the ground in a bow to Francis, letting out a small "your majesty" as she did so. Lola was in shock, though her contraction pains had started again, saving her from having to say anything further.
Francis turned to Beatrice, reaching out his arms to raise her up to standing. "Please, there is no midwife, and I obviously have no experience in bringing children into this world. Have you given birth yourself? We must work together to help my lady in any way we can."
Though Beatrice had been quite blunt about the direness of Lola's situation before, she suddenly changed tunes in knowing that she was addressing the King of France. "Of course, your majesty. I helped my sister give birth, and will do whatever I can to help the lady along. I should warn you though - she has been in labor for too long already. I fear this will not be an easy birth, and both mother and child are at risk."
Francis winced at this, and Lola noticed the pain visible on his face at the sign that death could come knocking at this door. She felt momentarily touched. Though she was unsure how much help both Francis and Beatrice would be, at least she had a close friend by her side.
Beatrice prepared boiling water and began ripping cloths in a nearby corner, while Francis removed his riding cloak and knelt by her side. Lola tried to smile at him, through her discomfort. She was not only in pain, but also slightly embarrassed that he would witness what was about to take place. She had never seen a childbirth herself, but she understood that it was a messy business.
"We're going to get through this. Together. I don't want you think that you will ever be alone in this, Lola," Francis said, staring into Lola's eyes with true sincerity. Lola knew that he meant beyond just the birthing itself.
Taking advantage of her moment in between contractions, Lola decided to speak frankly to Francis. "Francis, I don't want to become a burden for you and Mary. I don't want to be in the way. All I ask is that I can retire to somewhere in the country, where I can raise the child on my own," she said, and, as she felt the sharp pain return once again, added "that is, if we both survive this."
"Don't say that," Francis said, almost frantically. "You'll get through this… and we will decide together how best to raise our child."
It sounded strange to her, "our" - but she couldn't deny that it made her feel better. It's not that she wanted to be alone with a child, but her guilt over the whole situation was constantly nagging her. It would be my punishment to be alone, she thought.
Beatrice returned then, setting her boiling water and rags at the foot of the bed, and she indicated that it was time for her to take a look at how far long Lola really was.
Lola nodded, hesitating, for how much did this stranger really know about birthing? Even so, it was better than nothing, so she allowed her to reach under her dress and to her most intimate spot to examine her.
Beatrice nodded, saying that things were looking better than expected. "She is dilated as much as she should be… it shouldn't be long now. As long as the baby is not breech, all should go according to plan."
Lola let out a sigh of relief, a breath that she felt she had been holding since the labor pains started. She might just get her child after all. It was a strange feeling, for she hadn't done much thinking about the actual baby - she had been too busy thinking about the predicament she was in, the problems that this baby was causing. Now that he or she was almost here, it dawned on her that she was about to become a mother. Beyond that, she was about to become the mother of the King's first child.
Beatrice motioned that it was time for Lola to begin pushing. The time was here. Francis immediately offered Lola his hand once more, and she took it gratefully. The pains increased, and Lola did all she could to push, as Beatrice had instructed. This was it. She wanted this baby now more than anything, and so she braced herself, agreeing to take on whatever pain was necessary to bring her and Francis's child into the world.