In Pursuit of the Green Lion (48 page)

“Oh, yes, you can, and just to show you I mean it, I’m going to speak to Messer Pietro and get you off that horse and onto the lead barge at the next stop.”

“Don’t you dare bother with that. I’m doing very well just as I am. Besides, I told you I get seasick easily. The rolling might affect me.” The truth was, he still looked pallid and frail to me, and I had no intention of leaving his side. Like someone who’s found a valuable ring that she’s lost, I didn’t want him out of my sight again. But I guess my excuse sounded a little farfetched. First he looked at the barges, being hauled along so steadily on the rushing waters of the Rhône. Then he inspected my face intently, a long, amused look, and a strange little smile flitted across his face. Oh, caught again, I thought.

“I need to see your face,” I confessed, looking again at his profile, as if I could fix it in my mind forever that way. “I’ve missed it too long.”

“Have I told you today that you’re a silly woman, but very precious?” he asked with a smile.

“Not today. Yesterday. And, I hope, tomorrow.”

But several days on horseback, even at this slow pace, took their toll on him. I could see the gray lines of fatigue in Gregory’s face, so I hid from him the news that the baby, now tightly folded in my immense stomach, was moving in that strange, impatient way that signaled that it wished to be born. Brother Malachi could see our strain, and tried to lighten our trip by telling stories of other trips he’d taken, mostly either in search of the Secret, or to evade people who wanted the Secret from him. It was all very entrancing, for he knew about the long apples of Egypt that when cut have the sign of the cross in them, and of the deadly serpent called the crocodile, which can swallow a man in one gulp, and also of the geese that grow on trees in the countries of the far north, and so are fitting food for Lent.

“Isn’t there anyplace you’ve never been, Malachi?” I asked.

“Why, Tartary and the Indies—lots of places. Africa—I’d like to see that. And Cathay, too, though some say it’s a myth. There’s wisdom in those places. Things that might lead me to the Secret.”

Mother Hilde nodded happily from the pillion seat behind him.

“If you go to those places, Malachi, I’ll go too. For I’ve found travel agrees with me. Have you seen all of my seeds, Margaret? I’ve some real curiosities. Some of them may even grow in England.” At every stop, until the winter winds had knocked the last rattling, dry plants bare of seeds, Mother Hilde had searched for seeds. You could see her beam as she found a plant she liked the look of, and tapped the seeds off into a little bit of colored rag. And her memory was so good that she’d describe the look of each of the plants by looking at the seeds alone, though sometimes if they resembled each other too much, she’d make a little stitch or two—parallel or crossed—to mark off the packet as different. Then she rolled up all her little bundles at the end of the day in a big napkin, which she sometimes opened on gloomy days to count over her treasures like a miser. And once the season of green had come upon us, she had with equal fervor made forays to the local wisewomen, where, gesticulating and miming, she contrived to work trades for even more seeds with which to extend her collection.

“The world is so full of things to learn about,” she’d say dreamily. “It wouldn’t be so bad if Malachi did find the Secret. If we lived longer, we could go to all those places, and just
think
of the seeds I’d have then! But it’s a great pity it’s too cold to grow oranges at home. Now, if you could think of a way to keep them warm in winter, it would be very fine to have an orange tree in the back of our house …”And she’d be off, as full of fancies as a child. It’s odd, how close wisdom and childhood are together, and Mother Hilde, who is the wisest woman I’ve ever known, is a good example.

“In a few days, we’ll be at Vienne. Then to Lyons, it’s hardly anything. These merchant folk will unload their goods and return downriver. We’ll sell another book—and what a stroke of fortune it was to sell two already!—then hey, ho, in style to Paris in the company of the papal grandees! Good fortune is smiling on us, my dears! Gilbert, you’ve not congratulated me even once on my clever planning. You should be thanking God for the powerful mind that’s made our return so comfortable. Ah, my! It’s a lovely day! I feel all brain—just pure intelligence, soaring into the ether! Could it be you’re not anxious to see Paris again? Never fear, you’ve changed entirely since then. They’ll never recognize you, I guarantee it entirely. Just keep your hood up and don’t trim your beard. Yes, yes. You look entirely different. Don’t look to tomorrow for trouble, I always say, the troubles of today are usually enough.”

This thing about the troubles of today being sufficient—I don’t like it at all. I’d prefer no troubles today at all, but that’s not how it works most of the time. We were still far from anyplace at all when I felt something unmistakable. “Gregory, help me,” I hissed between my teeth, for the waves of pain could not be taken for anything else. “The baby’s coming.”

“It can’t be,” he said. “We aren’t home yet.”

“For God’s sake, whoever gave you the idea it wouldn’t come until we’re home? It’s coming now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Gregory, I’ve had two already. I’m sure, I’m sure as can be. Now please tell Malachi and Hilde,” and he turned and rode ahead to where Malachi was telling Hilde all about Hippocrates’ daughter, who was changed into the form of a hideous dragon by enchantment, and lives on the isle of Langos near Greece, waiting for a knight brave enough to kiss her and change her back again. I was now bent over in the saddle, my hands clasping the sides of my immense belly as if that would somehow slow it all down. The reins slid onto the horse’s neck, and the little mare, sensing that something had gone wrong, picked up her head and began to amble away. The jarring made it worse. I could sense Gregory as he rode in close and grabbed the mare’s reins.

“Hide me, oh, please. Don’t make me have it in front of all these people,” I wept. Wordlessly, he signaled, and Malachi and Hilde followed. Behind, Hugo broke from the line of march behind us and cantered forward.

“She’s having the baby,” Gregory told him.

“Oh, can’t do that. Very risky to leave the line of march just now. Say, Margaret, can’t you just tell it to wait until later?”

“It’s not waiting,” I said, my face all red and the tears running from my eyes.

“Well, brother, I never thought I’d do a thing this stupid for you,” said Hugo as he rode ahead to the captain of the mercenaries, and then signaled his men to follow us off the road. There, in a copse of trees that hid the blackened ruins of what had once been a little village, they spread out on guard as Gregory pulled me, gasping, from my little mare. I caught a glimpse of his horrified face as I bent to my work. Somebody had spread his cloak underneath me.

“Don’t look, don’t look,” I panted. “It’s not decent.”

“It’s not a question of decency at this point, Margaret,” said Hilde. “The head’s already showing. Now don’t make a peep. Heaven only knows who might hear it here. Bite on this if you feel like screaming.” It was a belt, the one Gregory had been wearing. Thank the Holy Virgin for Mother Hilde! If one must go traveling while pregnant, it is always a good thing if you can have the best midwife in London with you. It was as I felt her hands, so steady and sure, that I knew all at once she had come along for more than Malachi’s sake. The most generous friend in the world had followed me on a crackpot scheme, because she knew all along I couldn’t manage.

“Keep pushing, Margaret. We’ve almost got the head. Gilbert! Could you kindly avert your eyes? This is women’s business. It’s not for husbands to see. If you are curious, go look in a book.” The effort was big, bigger than I remembered somehow, for God always hides the difficulties from our memory each time, so we won’t be afraid of the next. And to keep silence the while—it was agonizing. It was then I felt a hand holding mine. His hand. It was wrong, I know, and not proper at all. How many times had Hilde and I barred husbands from the labor room? Everyone knows if a husband sees his wife at this time, he won’t love her anymore.

“That’s it—if you must be here, sit beside her so you’re facing the other way. It’s not proper to be watching every move I make,” Mother Hilde scolded. He rearranged himself, never letting go of my hand. I could see his face against the sky, all shadowy with worry, his dark hair blowing against the aureole of the sun. He was watching my own face intently. Then he leaned over me and took my other hand too. I grabbed them both and heaved.

“We’ve got it,” Mother Hilde said. “Keep at it.” Gregory’s face looked so shocked, I was about to say something altogether snippy about the male half of the human race, until I realized suddenly what was wrong. He was afraid I’d die.

“Hold my hand tighter, Gregory.—This is how it always is.—Don’t worry.—I’m strong.—I’ll be fine—” I found myself reassuring him in between gasps and groans. He never said a word, but held on with all the strength that was in him, as if he could give it to me. And it did strengthen me. I could feel it renewing me with each great labor pain.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the sweat matting my hair to my face, all decency long forgotten. “Now you won’t think I’m pretty anymore.”

He found his voice. “I’ll always love you, Margaret. Always. No matter what. And—and you’re still pretty.” Gallant liar, I thought.

“Why, goodness, Margaret. Who’d have thought it? You’ve got a boy this time. Sir Gilbert, it’s a son and heir. The very first try too. You’re a lucky man.” Hilde held the baby up by the heels until its mewling told her it was breathing well. Gregory turned his head so he could see it. I’ve never seen him look more horrified.

“That—?”he stammered. “Is it
supposed
to look that way? It’s not abnormal, is it?”

“Of course not. You looked exactly the same when you were born.”Mother Hilde was wiping the baby off the best she could with a cloth dampened from her water flask. She delivered the afterbirth and cut the cord. Gregory looked paralyzed.

“Now, just look at
that
, will you, Margaret?” said Mother Hilde as she held the naked baby out to me. Its skinny red arms and legs wheeled uselessly. I saw right away what she meant. Dried off, the fuzzy hair looked all brownish, and stood up straight out every whichaway, like the homely fluff on a baby swan. The baby had the most shocked expression on its face. Its mouth worked up and down, and its eyes were wide open, as if with amazement. Without a doubt, it was the oddest, funniest looking face I’d ever seen on a baby. I loved it immensely.

“You shouldn’t act so surprised. You’re the one who had the idea of being born,” I scolded it. Then Mother Hilde held it up face-to-face with Gregory, so he could see it better. I could see its eyes as it caught sight of Gregory’s face. I know some people think new babies are blind, like kittens, but if they are, then why don’t their eyes stick shut, like kittens’? I think they see, because I watch them see, and because even little babies aren’t stupid. The two of them stared at each other, father and son, their faces mirror images of utter astonishment. Both sets of eyes widened, both jaws dropped in exactly the same way. I’ve never seen anything so droll in my life. I couldn’t help it. No matter how much it hurt, I had to laugh. I tried to stop, and made a weak coughing sound that shook the poor, loose muscles of my belly like the waves in the ocean.

“You’re
laughing?”
Gregory couldn’t believe it. “At your own son?” There was something infinitely touching in the way that he rushed to defend the tiny creature against the imagined slight.

“I’ve never seen such a funny-looking baby in my life. Give him to me, Mother Hilde, so I can feed him before he starts peeping.” And when the baby started to suck, making such vast gulping and smacking sounds that I had to laugh again, Gregory, taken aback, stared and said, “It’s
greedy.”

“You should know,” I said drowsily, for I was very tired now. “You’re something of a trencherman yourself.”

“Not like
that,”
he said, as the baby fell asleep after an immense belch.

“Margaret, he needs to be baptized,” Mother Hilde prompted.

“I’ll do that,” Gregory answered, looking suddenly pleased with himself. “I’ve just thought of a good name.”

“You know the form for emergency baptism?” Hilde was always careful. It won’t do to make a mistake at a time like this with something as important as somebody’s soul.

“Of course. I used to be something of a specialist, as you may recall,” said Gregory. And before I’d really had time to think about it, he’d collected his brother and Malachi to be witnesses, and splashed water on the sleeping infant’s head from the leather water bag at his saddle.

“Peregrinus, I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

My eyes opened wide with shock, but they were already reciting the Paternoster. It was already done.

“What have you named my baby?” I said, with rising suspicion.

“A perfect name, considering the circumstances. Peregrine.” Gregory looked benignant, as if he’d done the baby a great favor.

“Peregrine? What saint is that?” I was appalled. At the very least, he could have asked me first.

“It means pilgrim—traveler—or wanderer in Latin,” said Brother Malachi, as if he considered the name perfect himself.

“Peregrine? You named my beautiful baby
Peregrine?
Instead of for an evangelist or a saint, or even just a holy martyr?”

“Why, Margaret, it’s just perfect.” Gregory beamed. “You have to admit not many babies have done so much traveling before they were born—or need to do so much before they get home.”

“It’s not bad,” opined Hugo. “Not bad at all, except it might have been better to name him for a hero—say, Oliver or Floris, or maybe Gawain.”

“Oh, worse and worse. Your whole family is the same. A saint’s name is best.” A conspiracy, that’s what it was. A conspiracy of men.

“Well, best or worst, we’d better get out of here. We have some catching up to do.”