The Captive Heart

Chapter Ten

The summer came, and at Lamastide Alix knew she was with child. Fenella confirmed it, smiling. The two women hugged each other and, seeing it, Iver asked Fenella afterwards, "Why were you embracing our mistress?"

"You will know soon enough," Fenella chortled, "but first the laird must know."

"Woman, you have as good told me our mistress is with child," Iver said.

Fenella clapped her hands over her mouth, but then removing them said, "I have told you naught! And do not dare to say I did."

The steward grinned at her. "I know how to keep a secret," he replied. "You need not worry about me. It is the laird who will announce this happy news to all of Dunglais after she has told him. I will say nothing, and you had best stop being so smug because you have the confidence of our mistress."

Alix sought for her husband and found him at the keep's smithy talking with the blacksmith. He had recently found his cattle herd increased by several beasts, and they had no markings on them. He wanted them marked with the Dunglais D so if they wandered again he could find them. He had waited the summer long for someone to come and claim them, but no one had. She waited while he discussed the matter, and when he had finished he turned to her, smiling.

"Why have you sought me, lambkin?" he asked her, taking her hand and walking from the smithy. "Have you missed me this day?" He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the palm tenderly.

"I have news I believe you would want to hear," Alix told him almost shyly. "I am with child, Colm. Come late winter, with God's blessing, I shall give you a child."

The laird gave a joyous whoop, and picking Alix up, he swung her about. "A child!" he exclaimed happily. "We are to have a child!" Then he kissed her hard. "Thank you, my darling lambkin! Thank you!"

"You want a son," Alix said as he set her down upon her feet again. "I hope it is, but it could also be a darling little girl like our Fiona."

He sighed. "Aye, I find I am like other men after all," he admitted. "I do want a son, but should it be another daughter I will be content, Wife."

Alix glanced about the courtyard at the curious faces of the men-at-arms. "We must tell Fiona before you announce it to the hall," she said.

"You are certain?" he asked her anxiously.

Alix nodded. "Aye, and Fenella concurs. I have had no show of blood since the end of May, my lord. And my breasts are growing fuller and I am suddenly always craving cheese."

"You always loved cheese," he noted.

"But not like this, my lord. I sat at the high board after you had left it this morning and ate cheese until Fenella finally took it away from me," Alix told him. "She says there is no doubt I am with child."

"Do you know when?"

"We think sometime in late February or early March," Alix said.

They entered the house to seek out Fiona. They found her playing with her cat in the hall. Both the little girl and the creature were enjoying themselves as Fiona pulled a piece of yarn to which was tied a rag and the cat pounced and wrestled with the toy. She looked up as her father and stepmother came into her view. "Finn likes to play with me," she announced to them. "He is more fun than his mother ever was."

"His mother is older, and older cats do not play as much," Alix said. "Come, Fi, and sit with us. Your father and I have something to tell you."

Fiona arose from the floor where she had been sitting and came to join them by the hearth. "Am I to be betrothed?" she asked. "Have you found a husband for me? Is he handsome? Is he rich? How old is he?"

The laird laughed. "Ever since you visited the king you have been fixated upon a match for yourself. Nay, lass, I am not of a mind to let you go yet. Perhaps when you are thirty or forty I may consider it."

"Da! You know I should be wed by the time I am fifteen or sixteen else I be too old," Fiona scolded. "Well, if it is not a marriage, then what is it?"

"Your mam is with child," the laird told his daughter. "You will have a brother or a sister come the spring."

"I hope it's a brother," Fiona surprised them by saying. "I don't want to be the heiress of Dunglais. That would mean I would have to stay here and have a second son for a husband. I want only a first son and an even bigger keep of my own."

"Gracious!" Alix exclaimed. "You have been thinking about this, haven't you?"

"I will be eight this year," Fiona said. "The young king explained to me the importance of make a good match and making it early. Why, surely you remember that before the old king died he made a match for our king with the king of Denmark's daughter, and James is but two years my senior. But his bride is younger."

"The old king began the marriage negotiations, but they are not yet confirmed," Alix told Fiona, "although Queen Marie says they will be. It takes time to negotiate a proper marriage contract between kings." She reached out and smoothed her daughter's dark hair. "Are you content you are to have a sibling, my daughter?"

"Aye," Fiona said with a smile. "But, Mama, please have a lad."

The laird laughed. "I am pleased to see you will not be jealous," he told his child.

"Da!" Fiona gave an exasperated sigh. "Why would I be jealous of a bairn? I shall be married and gone long before he is grown. I have seen bairns in the village. They suck, shit, and sleep, and then suck some more for at least a year. They are really not very interesting at all." Then she put her arms about Alix. "I am glad for you, Mama." And she kissed Alix's cheek sweetly. Then she ran off to find her cat, who had disappeared from the hall.

"I suppose you must begin considering a match for her," Alix told her husband.

"Not until she is twelve and her beauty can be seen. Her dower won't be a great one, and so it is her beauty that must help us to make Fiona the best match we can."

"You know I saved some of what my father gave me for myself after I gave you a dower portion," Alix said, and he nodded. "I will have a gold piece for Fiona's dower."

"How fortunate I was that you were found on my lands, lambkin," he said. Then he reached out and gently touched her belly.

"How fortunate I was that it was your men who found me and not some hungry beast," she answered him, holding her hand against her still-flat belly.

In the hall that night Malcolm Scott announced to ail there that his wife was with child. A child to be born at the very end of the winter. A health was drunk to the laird's wife by all there. By the following day all of the Dunglais folk knew that Alix was expecting a bairn. Walking or riding through the village she was smiled at and blessings called out to her. Dunglais would have an heir, for it was certain that the laird's wife would have a son, all the women of the village decided.

The autumn arrived and one bright blue and gold late October day Alix decided that she would ride out one final time, for now that her belly was beginning to grow round she thought perhaps it would be wiser to forego her daily ride. And the winter would set in before long, making it impossible to ride anyway. She was accompanied by two of the castle's men-at-arms and little Fiona. The sun was warm upon their backs as they rode.

But as they topped a hill they unexpectedly came face-to-face with a large band of men coming up the other side. Immediately one of the Dunglais men-at-arms reached for the bridle of little Fiona's mount, and turning, began to dash back towards the keep. The other soldier with Alix called to her to do the same while he remained behind to give her a head start and defend her flight. A band of armed men in daylight upon the moor could only presage a raid or some other mischief. Alix took flight, as she had been bid.

She turned back once to see the Dunglais man battling valiantly, but he soon fell to the ground mortally wounded. There was also a group of men galloping after her. Alix urged her mare to greater speed, but to no avail. The creature could only go so fast. She was shortly surrounded. A man reached for the mare's bridle. Alix slashed out at him with her reins. "Take your hands from my horse!" she shouted at him. "How dare you attack a woman out riding upon her own lands?"

"You have a choice, madame," the obvious leader of the group said. "You will come quietly with us upon your own mount, or I will take you by force upon mine."

"Do you know who I am?" Alix said. She was terrified, but would not show it.

"You are the Laird of Dunglais's mistress," the man replied.

"I am the laird's lawful wife, you fool!" Alix snapped back.

"Not according to the church in England," the man said.

"We are not in England," Alix answered, but an icy chill ran down her spine.

"We will be by tomorrow" came the reply.

"Sir, I am with child," Alix told him. "My husband will pay the ransom you ask, if you will but approach him. Even now my daughter has regained the keep and given the alarm. You will quickly be caught. Do not be foolish, and endanger your life or that of your men. My husband is a fierce fighter." Alix attempted to bargain with the man.

"Madame, I have been sent by your betrothed husband, Sir Udolf Watteson, to retrieve you from the shameful captivity in which you have found yourself," the man told her. "I have come to bring you home to Wulfborn. What Sir Udolf does with the bastard you now carry is not my affair. I have but one mission. To bring you back to Sir Udolf. Only then will my men and I be paid."

"Sir Udolf is not my betrothed husband," Alix said, struggling to keep calm. "I am wed under Scotland's laws and in Scotland's Holy Catholic Church to Malcolm Scott, the Laird of Dunglais. It is his heir I carry. Please, sir, I beg of you, allow me to pass and return to my home."

"For the sake of your unborn bairn, lady, I advise you to come quietly," her captor said. "I am a man of my word, and I gave it to Sir Udolf." He reached out again for her bridle, and Alix again lashed out at him, but this time he grabbed the small riding whip from her, yanking it roughly from her gloved hand and flinging it to the earth. Then, grasping her horse's bridle, he leaned over and clipped a leading rein to it.

Alix opened up her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs. Her cries were of no use, for her captors led her away nonetheless. She continued to shriek until she could cry out no longer and her throat was raw with her efforts. Then they rode in silence, and they rode swiftly, putting as much ground between the laird who would be pursuing them shortly and themselves. They did not stop the day long, only slowing now and again to give their horses a chance to catch their breaths. Alix was hungry and very thirsty by the time they finally came to a halt.

They stopped in a deep hollow even as the sun set. She was lifted from her horse, and to her embarrassment her legs gave way beneath her. The captain of the raiders caught her and set her down carefully in the grass. He gave her a drink from his own water bottle and handed her an oatcake to eat. Alix was exhausted and fell asleep shortly after she had managed to swallow down her small nourishment. She was astounded to be awakened while it was yet dark, and protested.

"There's a good bright border moon rising tonight, lady," the captain told her. "The horses are rested enough to go on, and so must we." He pulled her to her feet. "Your mare has been watered and grazed for the past few hours. We must be on our way." He helped her to her horse and boosted her into her saddle before she might protest further. "We'll get to Wulfborn by midmorning if we leave here now," he said.

Alix had always preferred riding astride when she could. As part of the queen's household she had been forced to ride sidesaddle when she was with her godmother, but when she was not she rode astride. She was relieved she knew how, for it made the pace they were keeping easier for her. A full moon was just rising as they began their journey again. Soon the bright moon made it almost as bright as daylight. But it was cold and slightly damp. Alix was glad she had her cloak with her. It helped some, but she was still chilled to the bone. Where were Colm and his men? Why hadn't they caught up to the raiders by now?

The Laird of Dunglais had already heard the shouting in the courtyard of his keep when his little daughter burst into the hall screaming his name.

"Da! Da! Some men have taken Alix!"

The man-at-arms who had accompanied Fiona back to the keep ran into the hall. "My lord! My lord! The lady has been stolen by raiders. Tam remained to defend her and allow her retreat, but when I looked back I saw them reach her and lead her away. Tarn can only have been killed, for he would fight to the death to defend the lady."

"Fenella!" the laird called out. "Take care of Fiona!" And Malcolm Scott, hurrying from his own hall, called out to his men and for his stallion. "Bar the gates and lower the portcullis," he instructed the few men who would remain behind. "Open to no one but me no matter what they say to you. Do you understand me?" And when he was assured that they did, he mounted his horse and rode from Dunglais Keep, a large party of men accompanying him.

Led by the man-at-arms who had been with Alix and Fiona, they reached the spot where Alix had last been seen. Noting the trampled grass, the laird could determine that it had indeed been a large party of raiders. Now they had to discover in which direction these strangers had gone. At first the riders had gone in one direction. East. But then after several miles it appeared as if they had broken into two groups. The laird stopped to consider. One group had turned northeast while the other had gone south. Malcolm Scott considered carefully before turning northeast, but night set in quickly as it was late October. They were forced to stop.

"We'll rest here until moonrise," the laird said, "and then continue onward."

And when the moon arose they moved out again, until suddenly, to their surprise, they came upon an encampment of men, all sleeping but for the watch, who had little time to cry out before the laird's men were upon them.

"Which one of you is in charge?" the laird demanded when all the sleepers had been roused and stood before him. No one spoke. With a sigh the laird stepped forward and yanked one of his prisoners to him, pressing his dirk to the man's throat. "Who is in charge?" he asked again. The man in his grip shook his head, and so Malcolm Scott pressed the sharp tip of the dirk into the flesh beneath it, drawing a small bubble of blood. "You have taken my wife," he said in a cold, hard voice. The dirk pressed deeper, and the flow of blood grew just slightly. "Now, who is in charge? Fail to answer me this time, and I'll slit your throat and move on to someone else until I have gotten my answer. Or killed you all. You understand me?"

The man's eyes bulged with fright as he looked into the laird's merciless face, and with a small whimper he pointed to another man among the prisoners, gasping out one word. "Him!" Then, as the laird released him, the man fell to the ground, soiling himself in relief, although he still wasn't certain they wouldn't all be killed.

The Dunglais men grabbed the man pointed out to them, dragging him to where the laird stood and forcing him to his knees.

"Where is my wife?" Malcolm Scott asked in a soft but deadly voice.

"I don't know," the leader of the raiders said, yelping as one of the laird's men hit him a fierce blow. "My lord, I swear I do not!"

"Do you deny taking her?" the laird asked. "Lie to me, and I will personally see you suffer a most painful and drawn-out death."

"Nay, my lord, we were part of the band that took her, but we do not know where she has been taken," the man said. "We are Douglases from near Jedburgh. We were contacted by some of our English kin a few months back. They told us the wife of an English lord had been taken and he wanted her back. When the time was right they would send for us. We joined with our kinfolk yesterday and took the woman. We were then paid for our trouble and told to go home. But we don't know who this English lord is. I swear to you, we don't!"

"But I think I may," Malcolm Scott said. "I am the Laird of Dunglais, and rest assured I will inform the king of this treachery. Do you Douglases have no loyalty except to yourselves? Do you always betray your fellow countrymen?"

The Douglas captain flushed angrily, but he held his peace except to say, "You are free, my lord, to inform that puling brat who is our king. We Douglases care not!"

"Take their horses and the coins they were paid for their perfidy," the laird said coldly. "I will have something for my trouble before we ride after my wife."

"But we're miles from home!" the Douglas captain protested. "And we earned that coin fairly, my lord. How are we to feed our families if you steal from us?"

"You purloined from me something far more precious than a handful of coins. You took my wife who is with child. While you are walking, consider the sin of disloyalty," the laird snapped. "And the coin you earned was hardly acquired honestly, stealing my wife to deliver to some English lordling!" Reaching out, he cut the purse from the Douglas captain's belt, hefted it in his hand, and smiled at the weight of it. "Aye, this will compensate me somewhat for my trouble."

While the laird had berated the Douglas captain, his men gathered up their horses and were ready to depart. Malcolm Scott mounted his stallion, and without a further glimpse at the Douglas clansmen, rode off with is own men and their newly acquired beasts. As they rode towards Dunglais, the captain of his men-at-arms spoke up.

"Why do we return home, my lord? Should we not go over the border after our good lady?" The captain's name was Dugald, but he was called Beinn, which meant mountain, by all who knew him, for he was a giant of a man standing six feet six inches tall with a massive head covered in russet hair, and limbs like tree trunks.

"I am certain I know who has absconded with my wife," the laird explained. "She will be safe once she has reached her destination. He will not harm her. We will get these scrawny beasts safely back to Dunglais, and then tomorrow we will cross over the border to retrieve my wife. We can hardly go raiding with a herd of horses now, can we?" He grinned at Beinn, who grinned back.

"Aye, my lord. But can you tell me, do you know, why this Englishman took our lady?" For all his size Beinn was a gentleman except when provoked. All the village children and every dog for miles around loved and gravitated to him.

"This lord believes my wife was betrothed to him. She was not," the laird told the faithful Beinn. "You recall how my lady was found?"

And Beinn nodded. "Aye, I do."

"She had been fleeing this man," the laird explained. "Do you remember the Englishman who came to the keep some months back? It is the same man. My wife and daughter kept to their chambers while he was at Dunglais overnight, and I told him I had no knowledge of the woman he sought. He is half-mad, I believe, but he will not harm Alix. Of that I am certain."

Alix, however, was not certain at all that Sir Udolf was harmless. She was utterly exhausted when they finally arrived at Wulfborn. Had it always looked so bleak and lonely out upon the moors? Aye, it had, she thought with a shiver. It had been almost two years since she had escaped from here, and she was not pleased at all to be back when she first saw the house from a distance. The captain of the raiding party came to help her down from her mare. As shaky as she felt, Alix pushed him away, glaring.

"I don't envy your lord, lady," he said quietly.

"The old fool who lives here is not my lord. I expect my husband is not far behind, and there will be blood before this is all over," Alix snapped. It was all she could do to keep standing.

And then Sir Udolf hurried from the house, smiling broadly. "My darling Alix, welcome home!" he gushed and made to put his arms about her so he might kiss her.

"This most certainly is not my home, Sir Udolf!" Alix said, shoving him away and wondering where she had gotten the strength to do it when she could hardly remain on her own two feet. She was surely going to collapse if she didn't sit down soon. Pray God the bairn was all right. The bairn! She had called it the bairn. I am becoming a Scot, she thought, and almost smiled, but caught herself in time lest Sir Udolf think she was smiling at him. She gazed hard at the man in front of her. He had aged. How old was he? she attempted to recall. In his late fifties, for he had been close in years to her own father. "I am weary beyond telling," Alix said coldly. "Let us go into the hall." And she pushed past him as she moved into the house.

God's wounds! The hall had become a pigsty. There were rushes upon the stone floor, and those rushes were filled with animal bones and other bits of garbage. The whole place stank of sour wine and beer, rotting food, and chimneys that were not drawing properly. It had certainly not been this way when she had first come to Wulfborn, nor while she lived here.

"He beat me black-and-blue when it was discovered you had escaped him," a voice whined by her elbow.

"Why is the hall so filthy, Bab?" Alix demanded to know, recognizing the woman's voice. "Where are the servants?"

"He kept saying you would take care of it all when you came back," Bab told her, coming around to face Alix now. She hadn't changed either, Alix thought. She was still a bawdy old slattern.

"I did not come back," Alix told the serving woman. "He had me kidnapped from my own lands, from my husband, Bab. The laird will be here soon, and I will return home to Dunglais with him."

"He were very excited when he found you," Bab nattered on.

"I am not remaining," Alix told her.

"He won't let anyone else have you, lady, and under the law you are his wife."

"As his son's widow it was my right to choose a new husband if I wanted one. Your master is a lustful fool, but no decent woman would wed her father-in-law," Alix told Bab. "It is ungodly. It is incest certainly."

"But he got his dispensation from York," Bab protested.

"A dispensation he told me he would buy," Alix said. "When I could not dissuade him from his folly, I fled Wulfborn as any respectable woman would have done! I am not betrothed to your master, nor am I his wife. I am the wife of the Laird of Dunglais, as all at Wulfborn will learn to their misfortune when my husband arrives. Our marriage was sanctioned by the bishop of St. Andrew's. Now, Bab, I am exhausted. I must rest. Tell your master I will see him on the morrow." And without another word Alix went upstairs to her old bedroom.

She was shocked to find everything exactly as she had left it two years ago. Although dusty, it was still obviously the cleanest room in the house. Her trunk was yet at the foot of her bed and filled with her own clothing. The scent of roses assailed her nostrils as she opened it. It would appear it had not been opened since she had left Wulfborn. Alix whirled at a scratching on the door. "Who is it?" she asked.

"Only me," Bab said, coming into the chamber with a pitcher of water. "I remember how you liked to bathe yourself, and you have been traveling for several days." She set the pitcher down on a table. "I told the master what you said, and he has agreed to see you on the morrow. Are you hungry? If you are I'll fetch you something to eat."

"Aye," Alix answered her. "I would like that. Thank you, Bab."

The serving woman left the chamber. Alix stripped off her cape. It was dusty. She would have Bab brush it. Pulling the chamber pot from beneath the bed, she peed, tossing the water from the window. Then she bathed her face and her hands in the water Bab had brought. The woman had remembered she preferred warm water to wash in, and not cold. Where was Colm? Alix wondered. Certainly he had been only a few hours behind her captors. She had been surprised when he hadn't caught up to her before they arrived at Wulfborn. Sir Udolf would not be easy to deal with, but her husband would quickly settle the matter to his own satisfaction, but not to Sir Udolf's.

Bab returned carrying a small bowl of soup, half a loaf, and some cheese. She set it down upon a small table near the hearth. "You'd best eat it while it's hot, lady," she advised. Then she sighed. "The soup I fear will taste of nothing. The bread is stale, and the cheese hard with age. Nothing has been right since you left us."

"Do you understand why I left, Bab?" Alix asked the serving woman.

"Aye," Bab said. "So you have told me. But he's mad. The dispensation he gained cost him dearly. The priest had to make two additional visits to Yorkminster before it was granted."

"God and his Blessed Mother!" Alix swore lightly. Then she shook her head. "Are there no suitable women of childbearing age hereabouts he might take as a wife? Why has he fixed all his hopes upon me?" She broke off a piece of the stale loaf and dipped it in the soup to soften it before popping it into her mouth. Bab was correct. The soup had no flavor at all, and she would swear that the piece of cheese brought to her had the marks of mouse teeth in it. She pushed it away.

"I think most of the gentlefolk in the region kept their daughters from the Wattesons because of Master Hayle. He were an odd boy, as you would surely know, lady. Sir Udolf has not spoken with his neighbors in many years now. I think he took offense towards them because of their attitude against Master Hayle," Bab said. "But I know there are at least two ladies still young enough to give him what he wants that he might take to wife. Their families are good and equal to his. He just doesn't know how to approach these families after all the time that has passed and the animosity between them. And you were here. Young and fecund, lady."

"But after I was not here why did he pursue the matter?" Alix wondered aloud.

"Sir Udolf is like a flock of sheep. Once he gets going in a certain direction 'tis nigh impossible to turn him into another path, lady, without much effort."

Alix shook her head. "I wish your master no ill, Bab, but my husband will come for me, and when he does I will go with him. If Sir Udolf attempts to stop us, Colm will surely kill him. As it is, I shall have to dissuade him from slaying Sir Udolf when he first arrives. My husband is by nature a peaceable man, but he loves me and will be very angry that I, or the bairn I carry, might have been harmed."

"You're with child?" Bab exclaimed, and then she looked closely at Alix. "Aye, I can see it now. When is your child due to come into this world?"

"Late winter," Alix told the woman.

"Will you tell the master?" Bab wondered fearfully. Sir Udolf was not going to be pleased at all to find that his heart's desire was carrying another man's child.

"I most certainly will tell Sir Udolf, Bab. Do you think I want to endanger my bairn, having to fend off his unwanted advances?" Alix pushed the tray away. "And you say naught to any until I have."

Bab nodded her grizzled head. "Aye, lady, you may be certain I will say nothing, for I do not wish to be the victim of Sir Udolf's disappointment and outrage when he learns your secret. I still ache two years after the fact from the beating he gave me when you ran away," the older woman said.

"He should not have punished you at all," Alix said angrily. "Everyone had been told I was praying and fasting and had no wish to be disturbed. You were simply obeying the orders that he himself had approved."

Bab picked up the tray. "I'll leave you, then, but a word of warning, lady. Bar your door this night against any surprise incursions." Then she left the chamber.

Taking her advice, Alix went and turned the key in the lock of her door. She then took the heavy wooden rod that was used to barricade the door to ensure her privacy, and lifting it not without some difficulty, Alix set it in its place. The master of Wulfborn would not be disturbing her this night. But where was Colm? Should he not have come to retrieve her by now? But as he had not, Alix lay down on the bed to rest. She would just have to wait. Today was over, but Colm would come tomorrow, she was certain.

"It isn't her," the Laird of Dunglais said, looking down at the ravaged body of the almost naked woman who had been found out on the moor and brought back to the hall by the men who had made the gruesome discovery. He looked down with pity on the bruised and battered body. The woman had been very ill used, raped and beaten. Her face was a swollen mass of bloody pulp. It wasn't Alix. It couldn't be!

"Can you be sure, my lord?" one of his men asked nervously.

"It is not my mam," Fiona Scott said with great certainty as she came around her father's tall frame and peered down at the body curiously.

"Fiona! What are you doing here? Fenella, take her away," the laird cried, disturbed that his almost-eight-year-old daughter should have seen such a terrible sight.

"Da, it is not Alix," Fiona insisted. "Alix was wearing breeks. Those shreds of clothing still left on that poor lass are not from her breeks. And look closely at her hands, Da. The nails are cracked, broken, and dirty. And they are large hands. Alix has dainty hands, and her nails are never broken nor her cuticles cracked. And this lass has no belly. My mam's belly was beginning to grow round with my brother."

"The lass is right," Fenella said quietly, quite startled by the child's sharp perception as she too stared down at the body. The woman was too big-boned to be Dunglais's lady. "This isn't your wife, my lord."

"The Englishman is clever in attempting to make me believe it is. Yet he was careless in his choice of henchmen to carry out his nefarious plot," Malcolm Scott noted. "They did not bother to consider the differences between my wife and the victim they chose to masquerade as her. Poor woman. Can anyone identify her?"

"It may be Vika from over the hill," Beinn said thoughtfully. "She's a local whore, my lord." He looked the body over very carefully and then nodded. "Aye, that's just who it is, my lord. See that round pinkish brown mole there on the side of her ankle? Vika had just such a mole."

Another man-at-arms sidled forward and peered down. "Aye, 'tis Vika, poor lass. She were a good whore, and never stole from a man when he slept," he remarked.

"Fenella, find some respectable garments for the woman, and we'll bury her decently. Someone go and fetch the priest. Father Donald can say a word over her. Did she have any bairns?" the laird wanted to know.

"Two," Beinn answered him. "Lads both. Maybe three and five."

"Is their sire or sires known?" the laird asked.

"If Vika knew, she never said, my lord," Beinn told him.

"Find those lads," the laird instructed, "and bring them to the keep. In an odd sense their mam died for my wife. I'll see her lads aren't left to starve or be mistreated."

It had been a day now since Alix had been kidnapped, but with the discovery of the dead whore Malcolm Scott was once more delayed from leaving Dunglais to seek out his wife at Wulfborn, and bring her home. The Englishman had to be mad to concoct such a wicked scheme. And what in the name of all that was holy had convinced him he could get away with it? While Malcolm knew Alix was safe, he was still concerned for his lambkin and the bairn she carried. An almost-two-day ride across the hills and over the border could not have been easy. If anything had happened to either his wife or his son the Englishman would regret his folly with his last dying breath, which the Laird of Dunglais promised himself would be a long, painful time coming. And not a stone of his house or village would be left standing.

Malcolm Scott decided he needed more men to ride with him. He sent to his uncle at Drumcairn, requesting that he come with all haste, bringing his clansmen with him. Then, despite his impatience, he waited another day, for to meet up with his uncle in the roadless borders would be more difficult. Early the next day Robert Ferguson arrived at Dunglais with twenty of his clansmen.

"What has happened, Nephew?" he asked as he dismounted his horse.

"Come into the hall," the laird invited him, "and the rest of you. You'll eat and then we ride for England!" He led the way, his uncle hurrying to keep up with him. Once at the high board Malcolm Scott explained the situation to his uncle. "I don't know how he learned she was here, but he did. Now I must go and retrieve my wife. She is with child, Uncle. She carries my son."

"Or a daughter," Robert Ferguson said.

"Lad or lass, I care not," Malcolm Scott said. "I want my lambkin back, and my bairn safe. The Englishman's a fool to believe I won't come for her."

Robert Ferguson speared himself a slice of ham with his dirk and began to eat it. "How far?" he wanted to know.

"I only know the direction in which they went and the area where this Wulfborn Hall is supposed to be located. I sent scouts out yesterday to find exactly where this Englishman makes his home, but Alix always said it was very isolated, and she never met any neighboring families. But I also know it cannot be more than a day and a half's ride over the border from Dunglais."

The Ferguson of Drumcairn chewed his breakfast with thoughtful care. "What exactly do you intend doing when we reach this Wulfborn Hall, nephew?"

"I shall demand my wife be returned to me immediately!" the laird told him.

"And if this English lordling refuses?" was the question.

"I'll pull his house down around his ears until I have my wife back!" Malcolm Scott said.

"Hmmmm," Robert Ferguson said. "How is the house defended?"

"I don't know," the laird said irritably.

"How many men does he have?"

"I don't know," the laird said again. "But I do recall Alix saying there were not many tenants, for the land was poor and not particularly arable."

"Hmmmm," Robert Ferguson considered further, but he could think of no other questions to ask his nephew. "Well, then," he said, "I suppose the first thing is to find Wulfborn. Unless the house is well defended we should be able to take it without sustaining serious losses, laddie. Will you kill the Englishman?"

"Only if I have to," the laird said grimly.

Robert Ferguson removed the last hard-boiled egg from the bowl before him, and after peeling it, neatly popped it into his mouth. "Well, then," he said as he chewed it, "I suppose we must ride. We've still got several hours of daylight before us."

After giving his housekeeper explicit instructions, and promising his daughter to return with Alix, the Laird of Dunglais, in the company of his uncle of Drumcairn, left his hall. Going into the courtyard of his keep, he mounted the large stallion he favored. Next to him Robert Ferguson had climbed atop his own horse. Raising his hand, the laird signaled his men to move forward, and they rode forth from the keep in a double line. Fiona and Fenella watched them from one of the keep's two towers.

"He will bring Alix home, won't he?" the little girl asked the woman by her side.

"Aye, he'll bring her home, lass," Fenella assured the child.

"I've lost one mother," Fiona said. "I do not want to lose another. This one loves me while the other did not."

"Whoever told you such a thing?" Fenella wanted to know. It might be the truth, but it wasn't a truth a child should be aware of, she thought angrily.

"I hear things," Fiona said, noting that the housekeeper did not try to tell her it wasn't so. "People do not pay a great deal of attention to me when they are involved in their own purposes, Fenella. She who birthed me did not love me. I tell everyone she loved my father, but if she did not love me how could she love him?"

Fenella pressed her lips together. How could she admit to the truth of what little Fiona was saying? She would not hurt this child, though it would appear Fiona Scott was wise beyond her years. "Let the past lie, my bairn," she told the girl. "Your father loves your stepmother, and your stepmother loves you both. It is far more than most people get in this life."

"I will only marry for love," Fiona responded.

"Neither your da nor Alix would ever force you into a marriage that did not please you," Fenella assured her young companion. "But you are just going to be eight in a few weeks, my bairn. There is more than enough time for marriage."

The day was gray and the air about them still as they stood watching the laird, his uncle, and the fifty men with them ride over the hill and out of sight.

"Will they be gone long?" Fiona wondered.

"A few days, certainly no more," Fenella said, and hoped it would be so. "Your da will send to us if 'tis to be longer. Now, is it not time for you to go to Father Donald for your Latin lesson, Fiona Scott? Just because your mam isn't here does not mean you can shirk your duties. With Martinmas near, I am going to teach you how to salt meat today. Bacon does not appear magically upon the high board." And Fenella led her charge from the tower top back down into the hall of Dunglais Keep.