At the mercy of her husband's ambitions
Inhabiting Eleanor of Castile's perspective of birth in an unfinished wilderness castle.
A series of short stories set in the deep past but inspired by small moments in my own life: seeking to illuminate mundane moments like these lost to the mists of time. These are intended to be little vignettes of every day life: small moments that don't warrant a whole narrative but are the substance of our experience of life on this earth.
Click here to read all previous short stories!
For the month of March, I am experimenting with audio read-alouds of some of my posts, mirroring the Anglo-Saxon storytellers who hold such a special place in my heart. While I’m experimenting, the audio quality might not always be the best: please bear with me! If you enjoy the read-aloud, please leave a comment below.
In that moment, she loathed him. With every fibre of her being.
They had been travelling for days across this wild and inhospitable landscape, battered by wind and rain as they wound their way past the mountains.
The horses kept sinking into the deeply sodden earth, up to their bellies in water where the path should be, shrieking and threatening to throw their riders into the flood.
Progress was slow, nature holding them back.
The Welsh didn’t want them there, symbols of their subjection. And it seemed that Wales didn’t want them there either.
As they journeyed, she felt an increasingly familiar tightening, painless and low in her belly, her body preparing for the baby’s arrival. It came and it went, catching her breath each time and causing her to close her eyes as she breathed through it.
Just a month away from her time, her breathing was shallow in her chest, the baby taking up the space usually reserved for her lungs. She felt perpetually full, constantly shifting on her horse to get some relief, arching her back and shifting her pelvis.
She could feel a little foot lodged under her ribs, feel it press against her inside as the baby struggled for space. It made her smile to think of her tiny companion, known only to her, snuggled inside. The two of them together, against the world.
Against him.
She loved her husband, with the kind of love that develops over time within a marriage arranged for the benefit of their kingdoms. It was perhaps more respect than love, but it was something akin to affection.
Right now, she loathed him.
All she wanted was to lie down somewhere warm, somewhere dry, somewhere safe. She wanted security, to know where her baby would be born. She had a craving to prepare, to get ready.
And yet he was dragging her across this mountain wilderness to a half-finished castle, drenched in seaside rain, to give birth to her baby.
All for a political stunt.
Historical endnote
This story is set slightly later than my usual tales, in the 1280s. I recently visited Caernarfon on a family holiday and was reminded of the story of King Edward II’s birth in the castle here. The fortress is immense, a formidable feature even today: it stands proudly on the shoreline, daring seaborne visitors to approach it.
According to legend (later medieval scholars will have to comment on how much truth there is in this story - it is far outside of my era. Maybe
can help us here!), King Edward I dragged his heavily pregnant wife to the extreme north-west coast of Wales, where he wanted his son to be born.
Caernarfon Castle formed part of his strategy for dominating heavily nationalist Wales under English rule. He claimed that he would give them a prince born in Wales who would be so much one of their own that he would not speak a word of English.
Unfortunately for his wife, carrying the promised prince, this meant giving birth in an unfinished castle on a storm-battered coast, having travelled hundreds of miles through a landscape that is inhospitable at the best of times today, let alone 750 years ago.
I found it unsettling enough waiting for birth (ten days overdue!) in my comfortable home, pottering in the garden and local village, before heading to the fully-equipped hospital to be tended by qualified medics. Imagine traipsing across Wales on horseback, or navigating rough seas, heavily pregnant, not knowing what state your home would be in!
I hope you enjoyed this short story! If you’re new here, check out this post linked below: it explains what Telling Their Tales is all about.
Evocative and fascinating as always! I love how you relate these tales to our experiences, it adds a beautiful layer within my imagination xx
Thank you for this little story Holly.