Brief Summary And Analysis Of Joan's Narrative-Railing Baby

Though exhausted beyond belief and weaker than she had ever been, Joan sat straight up. She did not hear the baby crying and terror gripped her heart. If this baby did not survive, she would not, either.
“Mary?” she asked, her voice tremulous, but before she could carry on, a lusty wail rang throughout the chamber.
Hearing that cry, Joan sank bank into the pillows with relief. “And Perceval? Is he all right?”
“Oh, don’t worry about him. He’ll come ‘round soon enough,” said the older midwife with a hint of a smile in her voice. “I’ve shoved him aside.”
A deep fatigue settled over Joan, and she was barely aware of delivering the afterbirth. But in her post-delivery haze, she was Alis caring for her baby with gentle hands, cleaning and checking
Joan chuckled. “I forgot to ask. It’s a boy?”
“Yes, and a large one.” Alis rocked the wailing baby. “I’ll hand him over once Mary and Carina have you cleaned and changed.”
The moment Mary and Carina eased Joan into a clean, dry gown, Perceval came to and sat upright, though he did not stand.
“What happened?” he barked.
“You had a son is what happened,” said Mary, though she sounded far less annoyed now than he had. “Can you get yourself into the chair so you can hold him?”
Wide-eyed, Perceval’s gaze shifted from Mary to Joan, then over to Alis, who still held the baby. He lurched into the seat and held out his arms. Alis handed him over, and he pulled down the swaddling blanket and studied the newborn’s face.
“It’s him,” he whispered.
“The baby from your vision?” asked Joan.
He shifted his chair closer to the bed and nodded. “Look at him. He’s perfect. Bald and chubby. Just as I knew he would be. And he has your eyes.”
Perceval, Knight of Camelot, fierce on the battlefield, sobbed openly with emotion, and Joan could not help but join him. The moment held so much joy and pain for them, joy over the fact they had a healthy son, but the arrival came with the sting of loss over their first baby who had never been born. Though they did not know if their first baby was a boy or a girl, they had given the child the name Elli, after Joan’s mother. They would select different names for their other
“What are we calling him? Two Percevals in the same room might get confusing.”
“For now, we’ve decided on Percy,” said Percival.
“Would you like to hold him?” Joan asked Perceval from her “bed nest” as she had grown to call it.
“Me?” Lionel tapped his chest. “Oh, I, uh… He’s awfully tiny. I wouldn’t want to do something wrong or drop him.”
Alis took a step forward. “I’ll help you. And you won’t drop him.”
She collected Percy from Gawain’s arms and urged Lionel to take Gwaine’s seat. Lionel appeared as if he wanted to object, but instead he took a set and sat up straight.
“All right,” said Lionel. “What should I do?”
“Hold your arms low and close to your body,” Alis explained. “Support Percy’s head with the crook of your left elbow. I’ll settle him in the right spot.”
“If I do something wrong, will you help?” Lionel shot Alis a pleading look.
“Of course I will, but you’ll be fine.”
She leaned down and settled Percy into Lionel’s arms, but she and Lionel gazed into one another’s eyes for a long moment. Everyone, Perceval included, watched the exchange. But in the next instant, it seemed as if the two of them were drawn back into reality. Lionel sat up stiffly and Alis drew