Indeed, he ranted in Crevy’s hall as never he had ranted before. He paced and he shouted and his staff eased back against the walls, as though they would put as much distance between themselves and their raging lord as possible. Even his mother had the good sense to hold her tongue, which was something indeed. Guillaume raved because the babe was late. Not only was it late commencing the labor, but it lingered over the task. He began to suspect that the babe had no inclination of coming forth into the world at all. Aye, this babe was taking longer than all the babes in Christendom had taken in sum! And worst of all, there was naught Guillaume could do about it. His wife screamed far above him, she raged in pain at a volume quite unlike her docile self, and he could do naught to make this easier. Much less faster. So, he paced and he growled and he snapped at anyone fool enough to venture close to his side.
