บท 80: It was Christmas
It was late at night.
A December night so dark and cold as to enclose the warm souls of each person in its frost.
It was long past midnight, they read it, on the heavy golden hands of the majestic clock tower.
They were beating, slow, hard blows on the gold numbers.
The seconds went by, the minutes went by.
Time passed, but with that no one was asleep yet.
It was close to Christmas and France had not waited in the least to show the world how important that holiday was for them.
Christmas markets had been set up in the large square, the city was full of a thousand lights, flashy candles lit and mass was celebrated every evening at Notre Dame.
Whenever possible, the prince also tried to play some role in the celebration.
Even going there and just listening was a pleasure for him.
Hearing French, his mother's language and still being able to understand the meaning of every word.
Knowing he hadn't forgotten.
Obviously it was not possible for him to take part every evening, as the protection of a single member of the royal family in a public place would have required many guards.
And more than anything else because the royals were in possession of immense lands and churches and even chapels it would not have been a noble act to have to work alongside commoners.
But Henry didn't care what people thought.
On the other hand, France was a free land, with a monarchy, yes, but still where people were able to make decisions on their own.
And it was precisely on that evening, dark, cold, during the Christmas Eve that one of the royal servants approached the prince, until he could whisper words in his ears.
-My lord- he began to talk trying to arouse the slightest suspicion in strangers -your wife, she is about to give birth...-.
At those words Henry's heart leapt in his chest, he had waited all that time, all those months and now he was finally becoming a father.
He had left Kara in Versailles because of her pregnancy she was not allowed to get far from the palace.
They had married the month before, in a hurry, before their child was born, to give the unborn child at least a noble title.
Their wedding hadn't been flashy, gorgeous or anything else, they had married in the royal family chapel and the dress her wife had worn was the same one Henry's mother wore at her wedding.
And now, Henry was becoming a father, to a boy or a girl, he still didn't know it, but all this, that fact, made him happy and nervous at the same time.
He silently got up from his seat, trying to arouse less suspicion about every present but not tearing the bow of someone who still believed in the monarchy.
They were in the territory of the church, more than anything else, there the domain did not belong to the king.
He was led out of the cathedral, in the cold, in the dark of the night, a carriage of a majestic black colour was waiting for the prince to enter, illuminating his golden hair with the pale light of the lanterns.
Henry hurried in, he wanted to see his wife, he wanted to get to the castle before she had already given birth to their child.
The horses trotted, their hooves echoed on the pavement of the Parisian streets together with thousands of other smells, perfumes, which flooded the prince's nostrils.
It was dark outside, not even a shadow was visible outside the dim light of the torches and city lamps.
He imagined, in his mind, what their child could have been.
A prince perhaps, a princess, from whom would she inherit his eyes? From whom the hair?
Too complicated for the tense situation, when he hadn't even thought of a name.
He knew, if she had been born a girl, he would have wanted to call her by the name of his late mother, Eleanor, a sweet, noble, royal name.
If he had been born a boy he would definitely not have given the baby the name of his father, no, he would have called him Charles, after his maternal grandfather or maybe Philip, the name of Kara's father, he had no ideas.
He had succeeded as fast as possible to get inside the huge royal garden.
He wouldn't wait any longer, he had to make sure his wife was fine, healthy and so was the baby.
Henry wished she had every help, that Kara hadn't risked her life, that she would not suffer too much in giving birth to their baby.
The prince shook his hands in each other as if he had finally found the room where his wife, in labor, was moaning and screaming.
He, as a father and man was forced to wait outside the door until the baby was born.
It would not have been allowed to attend a birth, to see blood, a new life come out of the body of his wife.
But he felt that the child would not take so long to be born, he felt it, in his heart, that he would soon become a father.
He waited, the minutes passed, the seconds, seemed to last forever.
In the darkness of the night, time seemed to pass slowly, slower than usual.
He heard a cry, after all that time along with the happiness of the midwife and the attendants who had witnessed the birth.
The door was opened, softly, slowly and from that the figure of the midwife emerged.
-The baby is born, it's a boy, his health conditions seem perfect- she said as the excited and happy prince couldn't wait to pick up his baby.
-How is my wife?- asked Henry with apprehension trying to peek inside the room.
He saw her, the woman's body, lying on top of the bed, their baby's body on her chest, in her arms.
She was covered up to her lap in light white sheets.
-Your wife is fine- the midwife reassured him -twenty is the ideal age to give birth to a child...-.
The woman let the prince enter the dimly lit room.
He wanted to meet his wife and his son.
Kara lay, under the sheets, inside the large bed.
Henry looked at his wife's face, it was reddened from pain and fatigue.
Her long brown hair lay scattered on the pillow beneath her head, while her eyes, large, sky-blue, stared lovingly at her husband's face.
-You have arrived ...- Kara stammered, holding their baby tighter to her chest.
-I have always been here, with you...- the prince took her hand, squeezed it, caressed it, she had made it, she had given birth to their baby.
Henry was proud of her, happy that their child was born, finally, he could live, observe, perceive, be independent.
Kara sensed the curiosity and desire that the prince felt in seeing their baby, so she, gently handed him to her husband.
Henry took him in his arms.
He smelled of sweat but he also smelled good.
-What should we call him?- Kara asked involuntarily breaking those sphere of love that already linked father and son.
The man didn't hesitate, he chose the name from his heart as soon as he could hold his baby in his arms.
-We will call him Philip, after your father...-.
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