Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 158: Seperate Ways

22 July, 1360. Westerhaven Palace, Islia

Camilla slowly descended the staircase on her way to Tession’s rooms. The days of skipping nimbly down the stairs were far behind her. These says, she couldn’t even see her own feet. One of her ladies would always walk slowly in front of her down the stairs, to make sure Camilla didn’t trip or lose her balance.

Partway down the stairs, Camilla had to stop as she felt the little one begin to restlessly roll inside her. She waited it out, wincing at the sensation. Meg and Katerine stood waiting patiently for her, giggling good naturedly at the odd expression on her face.

"I’ll remember all this when both of you start carrying babies." Camilla complained under her breath as she slowly started descending the rest of the stairs.

Elizabeth had been right - what had started as sweet little flutters in her belly had now grown into increasingly uncomfortable kicks and jabs that often startled her. Unluckily for her, the baby seemed fond of being most active at night, often jostling her awake with a shock.

Will I ever have a night of continuous sleep in my life, wondered Camilla? Just one night when I’m not interrupted by nightmares or backaches or belly kicks?

Or an overly eager husband...Camilla smiled to herself even as a stab of loneliness hit her.

She had been apart from William for five months, almost as long as the time they spent together as a married couple before war broke out. It was hard to comprehend - those six months of joy seemed to be but a blink of an eye.

Camilla hoped that he thought of her even half as often as she thought of him.

Upon entering the old man’s rooms, Meg and Katerine greeted him cheerfully before immediately starting to rustle through his bookshelves. Tession smiled at all the young women, then quickly cleared a wooden stool of books so that Camilla could sit. She smiled at him gratefully and sat down with a tired groan.

"Is everything alright, my lady?" Tession asked in a low voice.

Camilla smiled back, though she knew her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Oh, yes. I’m just getting a little nervous as my time draws closer."

In truth, she was petrified. Her fears had almost overwhelmed her several times in the past few days, ever since Queen Celia had ordered that an opulent nursery was to be set up in one of the unoccupied chambers not far from William and Camilla’s apartments.

That in itself had upset Camilla - that her defenceless newborn baby was expected to spend the majority of their time in a completely separate room from her.

But what had truly upset her was the parade of women that had then been presented to her, all well experienced with infants and who would have roles in the care of her baby - wet nurses, dry nurses, maids, even a dedicated cradle rocker...

Camilla knew the queen was arranging everything with the best of intentions, the same way she’d done for all the other princesses. She knew she was fortunate that her baby was being born into a royal family and would benefit from every luxury possible. As a mother, Camilla would have an abundance of help and would want for nothing.

But it all left her feeling rather pushed to the side, as if her child would be looked after by everyone but his or her own mother. Almost as if after giving birth, she’d become surplus to requirements.

Camilla wondered if she’d have to petition to be allowed to visit her own baby every day.

- - -

"Tom!" William hollered as he ducked into his cousin’s tent. "Hey, Tom! Have you spoken to Rufus today? He just told me-"

William stopped talking the moment he saw Joan in the tent, sitting on the bedding tossed on the ground and mending a torn blanket.

"Ah. Good morning, Joan." William muttered, feeling rather awkward. "Do you know where my cousin is?"

Joan looked amused at William’s surprised expression. She bowed her head to him but didn’t bother standing up. "I believe he went to fill up his water skin, my lord."

"It’s alright. I can come back later." William started backing out.

"Don’t be silly, Your Grace! Just wait here. Tom will be back very soon."

Tom? William raised his eyebrows. Since when was she on a first name basis with a king’s son? He didn’t ask the question, though.

Instead, he said, "So, it’s as you told me, Joan. With Sir Robert gone, you went and found yourself another bed in another tent."

"Indeed." Joan kept her eyes on the blanket she was calmly stitching but her voice was smug. "You made it clear I wasn’t welcome in yours, didn’t you? I assume you haven’t changed your mind?"

"No, I haven’t." he replied stonily. If she wanted to be Tom’s bedwench then that was her own affair, but William wanted no part in that conversation.

"What’s the matter, my lord? Regretting your decision now to continue sleeping in your cold, lonely bed? Or is my presence here making you uncomfortable?" Joan gave him a sharp little smile. "Don’t worry, your wait will be over soon. Any moment now, Tom will be home."

William blinked at Joan’s haughty tone.

"You realise, Joan, that this isn’t a home? It’s a tent thrown onto muddy ground for a few days before it’ll likely move again." he finally said. "And you’re not the leading authority on a prince and his whereabouts. You’re keeping his bed warm but when this war is over, you realise everyone will go their separate ways?"

"Are you jealous of Tom, Your Grace?"

"No, I’m not." William replied honestly. "I’m just reminding you that none of this," he waved his arm around, "is permanent. Lord willing, Tom and I will be departing from here and back to court in a few months, if not weeks. You must find a way to move forward with your life too."

"Why can’t I go to court with Tom? He’s told me his wife is a bitch."

"She is." William agreed. "But she’s a princess regardless, bound to him by wedding vows. Tom will never be given permission to divorce her."

"Then why can’t I be Tom’s mistress?"

William gave a short laugh. "You wouldn’t last a week against Tom’s wife. Eleanor’s temper is famous. She’d rip your throat out before ever accepting Tom having another woman under the same roof as her. Besides, Tom’s never been one for keeping a single bedwench. He prefers visiting bathhouses as he likes, ah, the variety, you see."

Under Joan’s withering glare, William stood up to leave. As he ducked out of the tent, he almost crashed headlong into Tom.

His cousin grinned in greeting. "I was looking for you earlier, Will."

William smiled back. "Let’s go back to my tent then. There’s something I need to discuss with you."

Tom’s brow twitched as he gestured to his tent. "Why don’t we just talk here?"

"I don’t really fancy discussing battle strategy in the company of strangers. Besides, your bed warmer is almost as foul tempered as your wife!" William gave Tom a teasing smile. "Admit it. You have a soft spot for angry women."

Tom guffawed as he followed William away from his own tent. "Sadly, no one has told Joan the best wenches keep their mouths closed and their legs open. She asks me nonstop about what court’s like and who she’d see there. As if she really thinks I’d just take a peasant girl back with me!"

William changed the subject. "The king is keen to press the advantage of our location, especially since the Moraigthians still seem to be hampered by illness worse than us. You were aware the plan had been to march north tomorrow night to the river bend where the granite arch is, and set up camp there?"

"What do you mean, that had been the plan? Why has it changed?" Tom said. "The arch will provide us a measure of protection and give our men something to defend in the next battle."

"Yes, but Rufus’s scouts came back before dawn today, from scouting the terrain between the arch and our camp before. The Moraigthians are already there!"

Tom’s shocked face mirrored the frustration churning through William. "But how...? How did they even know the arch existed, or what our next move would be?"

"That’s what we’re trying to work out. Everyone is meeting in the king’s tent shortly. I expect you’ll want to join us?"

Tom nodded grimly as both men walked to King Edward’s tent, his face twisted in puzzlement. "It seems an odd coincidence that both armies tried to move to the same landmark at the same time."

"There are no coincidences in war, Tom. We both know that." William’s voice was flat. "So we need to change our forces’ next movements and devise another plan."

- - -

Late that night, fire tore through the Islian camp.

It seemed like luck had once again turned her face away from King Edward and his men.